Words in the Kitchen Sink

2012 Academy Awards

2012-01-24T18:19:00.001-06:00

I was really big into the Academy Awards in my late teenage and early twenties years. In recent years though, I've lost interest somewhat. I still follow who wins, but I've become bored with a plethora of nominees and winners that I have no interest in seeing. So many filmmakers are way too impressed with their pretentious, cynical views of the world. Where are the uplifting, positive films? Where are the films that don't fill your mind with scum?

And then the Academy broadened the Best Picture category to up to 10 slots. It's probably an attention seeking, and therefore, moneymaking ploy. The masses can be interested in the Oscars again because their tastes are represented a bit more. What results is, from an artistic standpoint, a watered down list. And you know what? I'm okay with that. Good, solid films that probably won't go down in history are at least recognized for being good, solid films. There are plenty of Best Picture winners through film history that wouldn't be remembered otherwise. Who watches Gigi anymore? Or Lawrence Olivier's Hamlet, or The Greatest Show on Earth? All are decent films that worked for audiences of their time, but none is Casablanca (course, nothing is Casablanca but Casablanca).

The Academy Awards have taken a turn recently. First was with the win of Slumdog Millionaire in 2009--a film that is gritty and difficult to watch, but ultimately uplifting and celebratory. The next year was when the slots were increased, and since then I've been interested in at least half of the nominees. My suspicion is that the economic downturn has influenced the Hollywood powers-that-be to give us some entertainment to be happy about--and feel good about appreciating happy entertainment.

This year's nominees, which were just announced today, particularly excite me. First of all, all but one is family-appropriate (it's no secret that I don't watch rated R movies unless they are edited). One. Can it be believed? That hasn't happened in a very long time. Here's a rundown of the major categories:

BEST PICTURE
The Artist
The Descendants
Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close
The Help
Hugo
Midnight in Paris
Moneyball
The Tree of Life
War Horse

I've seen four of these and The Tree of Life is my favorite so far, but responses were too polar for it to win. Frankly, I would be happy if almost any of these won, but my money is on The Artist (which I desperately want to see, along with Hugo). I am surprised not to see Drive nominated, as that had a lot of buzz.

BEST ACTOR
Demián Bichir - A Better Life
George Clooney - The Descendants
Jean Dujardin - The Artist
Gary Oldman - Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy
Brad Pitt - Moneyball

No opinion, as Brad Pitt's is the only of these performances I've seen, but I'm overjoyed to see chameleon Gary Oldman nominated. I'm sure my sister will be disappointed not to see Michael Fassbender, but he's on his way to superstardom, so there are plenty of years ahead for him.

BEST ACTRESS
Glenn Close - Albert Nobbs
Viola Davis - The Help
Rooney Mara - The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
Meryl Streep - The Iron Lady
Michelle Williams - My Week with Marilyn

Again, I've only seen one performance. Viola Davis was superb in The Help, and I will probably cry if she wins, because she made me cry in the film.

SUPPORTING ACTOR
Kenneth Branagh - My Week with Marilyn
Jonah Hill - Moneyball
Nick Nolte - Warrior
Christopher Plummer - Beginners
Max von Sydow - Extremely Loud & Incredibly Close

I doubt he'll win, but I adored Jonah Hill in Moneyball. I'm so glad to see him nominated partially because it's refreshing to see a major character who looks and acts like a normal person, and otherwise because he was fantastic.

SUPPORTNG ACTRESS
Bérénice Bejo - The Artist
Jessica Chastain - The Help
Melissa McCarthy - Bridesmaids
Janet McTeer - Albert Nobbs
Octavia Spencer - The Help

Octavia Spencer and Jessica Chastain should almost have been nominated together because of how much their performances depended on how they played off one another. The two had fantastic chemistry, and I wouldn't be sorry to see either win.

CINEMATOGRAPHY
The Artist
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo
Hugo
The Tree of Life
War Horse

Cinematography is one area where I dare to hope that The Tree of Life will win, but it looks like a competitive year for the award. I haven't even seen War Horse, but the cinematography in the trailer alone is awe-inspiring.

DIRECTING
The Artist - Michel Hazanavicius
The Descendants - Alexander Payne
Hugo - Martin Scorsese
Midnight in Paris - Woody Allen
The Tree of Life - Terrence Malick

I have no opinion but that these are all the Best Picture front runners (except for ToL of course, but I'm soooo glad Malick was nominated).

Other observations: Only 2 nominees for Best Song. I guess this just wasn't a great year for movie songs. Original Score (Tintin, The Artist, Hugo, Tinker Tailor, and War Horse): I haven't heard any of them--must listen asap! The two screenplay awards show nothing unexpected. Any thoughts or opinions from my faithful readers?

I know that Iron Supplements are true

2012-01-18T11:48:00.004-06:00

or, A Catalog of Complaints

I made a conscious decision when I was 20 years old that I didn't want to be a complainer. I slip up pretty often, but you don't see me complain much on the blog. Well, that's what I'm going to do today--complain, complain, complain! Here are my top 10 complaints:

Blood cells take too long to make.
I was stupid enough to not think about the consequences of having a near-vegetarian diet (not intentional, meat just isn't my favorite food) for months without taking supplements.
Which means my brain doesn't work very well these days and my work ethic sucks.
Having full use of my brain and work ethic is kind of crucial at this point.
My legs feel like they're the weight of an elephant's, with the strength and control of a cooked noodle, therefore
It takes me twice as long to walk to my car after work, therefore
I'm twice as cold when I get there, therefore
It takes twice as long to warm up.
I hate being cold.
I almost fell asleep at my own birthday party.
On the much anticipated Martin Luther King Day, grocery shopping in a dust storm left me just enough energy to stretch out on my friend's couch and watch a movie. I probably looked like I was about to start drooling.
I still laid in bed for an hour that night before I could sleep.
Laying on the couch and watching movies is about all I've been able to do for the last 2 weeks, with a few exceptions when some magical excitability trumped fatigue.
I can't exercise, therefore
I'm gaining weight, and
My mood sucks.
In short, anemia is kicking my behind.

Okay, that was 17 complaints. Don't worry, I'm done. The plus side is that it should only be another week or 2 before I start feeling better. Here are some other pluses:

Flintstones vitamins taste so good! I'm never going to go back to adult ones.
I also got these orange flavored, orange shaped Vitamin C gummies to help me absorb more iron. They're not sweet like orange candies, but they're still good enough that I have to be careful not to overdose!
I have an excuse to play the piano for an hour every day, since that's the only exercise I'm going to get for a while.
It's easier to prioritize time when my options are so drastically limited.
I've watched 3 really good movies during these periods of isolated invalidity--The Rise of the Planet of the Apes, Moneyball, and Zindagi Na Milegi Dobara.
I still had such a fun time with my lovely writing group last Saturday. We ate a delicious dinner, found that we can all wax long and eloquent on the minutia of fictional communication, and watched Midnight in Paris, another great movie.
I treated myself to Insalada Caprese for lunch yesterday.
I'm treating myself to Insalada Caprese again for dinner tonight.
I'm not in acute pain, this is not a chronic illness, and I don't have little ones to take care of.
I'm seriously blessed!

1 day later. This balance of complaints vs. blessings is looking so sad! I need 8 more blessings, pronto. Here we go:

Two of my good friends got back from trips in the past week. It's good to have the besties around!
I had enough energy and brainpower to plan and deliver a talk at church on Sunday.
There's a song that pretty accurately captures my mood (even though the video has nothing to do with it):
Did I mention that I made Insalada Caprese for dinner last night?
Umm...There's only 2 more days until the weekend. And I don't have any plans.
Another good friend is making me an after-birthday dinner tomorrow!
I have the most wonderful family on Earth. And the best friends.
The Lord loves me so much. He tells me exactly what I need to hear, and what I need to study to help me at this point in my life. So what do I have to complain about? Nothing.

Here's to a New Decade!

2012-01-13T13:25:00.000-06:00

My sister and several of my friends passed the big 3-0 in recent years, so I was prepared. I approached what some consider the funeral of young single adulthood with the determination to make it the best birthday of my life! What could be more exciting than having a whole decade ahead of you where you can literally do anything you want? I'm out of the structured years of college, well into my career (I have to admit, money does bring some freedoms). I. Can. Do ANYTHING (and not just by taking a look in a book).

I decided to count down to this special day by celebrating the last 5 years of my life, one for each of the last 5 days. Here are my recent Facebook statuses:

It's not every year that one begins a new decade of life! I'm counting down to the happy day by reminiscing about the last 5 years. When I was 25...I finished my Master's Degree, went on my first 2 major (, fantastic) road trips, did a lot of job hunting, and worked as a valet! Maybe I'll wear my bow tie today.

‎4 more days and counting. When I was 26 I landed my first real job in the great region of West Texas, grew up a little, didn't die traveling alone to San Diego and Harrisonburg, saw my oldest friend married, and discovered that some boys actually like Twilight (I still can't imagine why).

‎3 more days until a new decade! When I was 27 I went up the tallest structure in the Western Hemisphere; co-created the most delightful PJ Shrimp; bungled through 2 new leadership positions at work and one at church (and learned so much from them); and almost got killed 3 or 4 times in Amarillo by a candy-striped truck driving, non-seatbelt wearing, cigar smoking, rifle shooting, Mozart headbanging, cactus ramming, longboard riding kid!

‎2 more days! When I was 28 I met amazing authoress Shannon Hale (and kinda made an idiot of myself); went on epic hiking adventures to Julie Andrews Meadow and Stewart Falls (and tried to fulfill a life goal by climbing behind the falls, but it didn't work); discovered that every day is the best day of my life; and chanced upon a Halloween costume that was practically perfect in every way!

Only one more day until a new decade, so today is my day of 29! 29 was the year of wedding festivities and a series of reunions with my long-lost, much missed extended family. I saw 4 shows on Broadway, hundreds of kids sledding in Central Park, and kicked my way through 3 ft of snow up a steep hill on the north shore of Manhattan to get to a transported Medieval European Cloister. I drove through the worst haboob Texas has seen since the depression, played Fireball Tennis, and started documenting the insanity of my subconscious. It's been a good year!

I have to say, the actual day wasn't the most pleasant of all time. I've been beaten down by illness lately (my secret birthday wish was to be able to feel my legs again), and work shook me up a bit. Despite that, I'll have fond memories. I am so blessed to have very caring friends. As I was contemplating getting out of bed I heard shuffling in the hall. I opened the door to find my roommate Spikes and friend Sully trying to take a poster to the doorframe--so I would smack my face on it when I walked out this morning! I helped them move it to the actual door so I can enjoy it for the next week. I got another surprise when I went into the garage and found "I'm sexy and I know it", along with the more typical birthday wishes, painted all over my car windows.

When Sully asked if she could throw me a party last week, I told her she could as long as it was a surprise party. So the understanding was that I knew I was getting a party, just didn't know when. She and Spikes kept me guessing all evening! I knew they were taking me out to dinner but I didn't expect the big group waiting for us at Carino's. I wondered if there would be another party afterward, and Spikes made me pull my hat over my eyes while she went to an ATM and got gas. I could tell from the series of turns when we were back in our neighborhood, but when we pulled into the driveway she said something like, "What the fashizzle? A homeless person just hit my car with his body!" She pulled out again, did some weird turn (apparently they weren't ready for us yet), and parked again. I knew what awaited me by then, so I told Spikes I was too scared to turn the light on. She flipped it on, and there everyone was again!

This year will, without a doubt, be even better than what came before it. I've already made a list of what I expect to accomplish in my New Year's post. Even more fun are my goals for the next decade.

Get married and start a family (my powers of persuasion are much stronger than they were last decade, so I may be able to convince some unsuspecting chap)
Make funny home videos and laugh at them
Publish a novel
Ride an elephant (now that the camel is done)
Travel to a foreign country I've never been to before--anywhere outside the United States, Canada, England, France, and Italy (Barcelona, Granada, and Cordoba are on the goals for life, but my heart won't break if I don't see them in the next decade)
Fight a duel. Blindfolded. (courtesy of Abinadi)
Last, some old ones--build a snow fort, and walk behind a waterfall! Once upon a time I wanted to surf, but I think I'll replace that with scuba diving or indoor skydiving.

But first things first. I'm still working on being able to feel my legs.

Christmas at Downton

2012-01-07T10:00:00.000-06:00

I'm sure by now you're all sick of hearing about Downton Abbey, but I couldn't resist one more post. I am happy--no, overjoyed--to report that the Downton Abbey celebratory season special did its best to stitch up the tears in the story fabric made by that awful series 2. My expectations were in low places after the series finale, but it didn’t stop me from watching the Christmas Special the day after it aired in the UK.

The plot involves four events: a Christmas celebration, a hunting party, Bates’ trial, and the Servants’ Ball. You’ll notice that only one of those is a remnant of the series 2 soap. The others are household events reminiscent of our dearly departed series 1.

Things the Christmas Special did right (spoilers ahead, obviously):

Lady Rosamund. She’s such an awesome character and so well played by Samantha Bond that it makes me lament that she's barely showed her face before this. Hers was also the only story thread debuting in this episode, avoiding the plotcram that the beginning of series 2 suffered from.

Daisy. Not only did I like Daisy’s thread the best in series 2, but the way it resolved in the Christmas Special was fabulous. I adore her relationship with Mr. Mason. This episode was a real character developing moment for Daisy.
Mary/Robert/Matthew/Carlisle/Pamuk. Mary, Robert, and Matthew actually started talking! And did something with their shared information! The break off was handled well, as were the reactions to Mary’s secret. In fact, I didn't even expect anything of this nature to actually happen in this episode. I thought the torture would be drawn out through series 3 with Mary marrying Carlisle and suffering, Matthew seeing her misery and suffering for it, and Carlisle ultimately being subjected to a melodramatic death or divorce, etc. I'm ecstatic that Julian Fellowes decided to nip that train wreck in the bud.
Cora and Robert. Thank goodness their relationship isn’t stupid anymore. I LOVED the scene where Cora breaks the old (but so crucial) news to Robert. And Cora's Servant's Ball dress was lovely. Robert thinks so, too.

Sybil and Branson. I know, they weren’t even in it--and that’s why! I needed a break from the annoyance.
O’Brien to Thomas: “I don’t often feel selfless, but when I talk to you I do.” Good for you, Sarah!
Edith. She wasn’t in it for long, but her scenes were solid and I hope they lead to future development.
Isobel. This may be the only episode in the entire show, including series 1, that I cheered for Isobel. Bravo, way to give your son advice!
The ending, the ending! It’s about. freaking. time. This seriously makes me as happy as the ending of North & South did all those years ago, and the progression to it was just right. Although, like North & South, there was one element of unreality. Mary would've been freezing her tail off (not quite as bad as the Victorian faux pas of making out on a train station platform)!

Things it did wrong:

Not enough Dowager Lady Grantham. Now that I'm thinking of it though, I realize Violet did have several solid scenes--those with Daisy (delightful), Rosamund (impeccable), even Lord Hepworth. Perhaps it was the scarcity of zingers. Even when they're not exactly true to character, I relish Maggie Smith’s one-liners.
Thomas. When is Robert going to stop letting the wool get pulled over his eyes? If Thomas’ character doesn’t do something different soon, I’m going to completely give up on him. He has such potential and it ends up being the same thing over and over. Although I very much enjoyed his scene with Violet.

Things it couldn’t fix:

Anna and Bates. Even the likable actors can't make this anything other than the most boring story ever (in fact, their bland performances seem to confirm it), although it works well to set off the rest of the plot.

When I said the Christmas Special mended some of the tears, I was particularly thinking of the fact that some of series 2's stupidest plot threads, Bates’ trial and Robert’s near-infidelity, both intersected with the conflict which has been part of the show since the beginning--Mary’s past mistake and Robert’s reaction to it. At least some use has been made of them.

I have some hope that Julian Fellowes will descend again from Mount Stupid for series 3, but I'm not going to hold my breath. My predictions are these:

It’s wishful thinking to hope that Carlisle won’t exact his revenge. My guess is, it’ll be in a way that none of the Downton family ever foresaw. He’ll either come after the estate, or team up with “Patrick” to try to oust Matthew as the heir.
Bates’ situation will be long, soppy, and boring until he’s acquitted at the end of the series.

My hopes:

More Rosamund. I don't care how, just use her.
More Edith. Give her somewhere to go that isn’t a dead end, for once!
More Anthony Strallan. He has such pretty blue eyes.
Matthew and Mary won’t wait forever to tie the knot

Last, I'm going to gush a bit over Michelle Dockery. There's no shortage of actors whose careers I follow with a microscope, but it takes a lot more for an actress to impress me (the reason[s] why is another topic entirely). Michelle Dockery is superb. I could be biased because she's my age and looks to be almost my height, but I don't think so.

I haven’t seen her in anything other than Downton (and a distressing minute of screen time in the soulless film Hanna), but Lady Mary Crawley is a part that calls for a wide spectrum of attitudes and emotions believably coming from the same individual, and Dockery delivers far beyond anything that could be expected. In fact, she regularly out-acts Dan Stevens (and I’m by no means complaining about his skill, either) the same way Richard Armitage out-acted Daniela Denby-Ashe in North & South and James McAvoy put Anne Hathaway to shame in Becoming Jane (but what else could be expected when an American attempts to play Jane Austen?).

Here are a few things Michelle Dockery uses to full advantage:

Voice. I've seen opinions that her delivery is flat, but it's perfectly in character. Dockery has a low voice, and she uses it to portray Mary's blunt nonchalance, even when, as the show progresses, that nonchalance is a thin cover up for the feelings battling underneath.
Eyebrows. I've long had a thing for eyebrows, especially Aamir Khan's eyebrows. And Michelle Dockery knows that optimizing facial expression means working the eyebrows.
Wit. Mary Crawford is the clear inheritor of her grandmother’s quick tongue, and although her remarks are of a different timbre, Dockery makes you believe she could one day be Maggie Smith and more.
Posture. I could comment on her general gorgeousness, but much of the effect is created by how confidently (sometimes with a dual vulnerability) she carries herself in those costumes.
Emotionally charged scenes. Like I said before, Dan Stevens is a fine actor, but she is the one to watch in their scenes together. Every frame registers a different one of Mary's subtle, conflicting, complicated thoughts and feelings as they are fleetingly etched on her face. And there's nothing forced about it. Her truthful performance makes Mary the most sharply defined and easily empathized with character on the show.

Michelle Dockery is primarily a stage and television actress but if it would do any good, I would write and beg her to make her bid for the big screen. My hope is that she will make an impression with her upcoming bit part in Joe Wright’s Anna Karenina (which I am looking forward to, despite my reserve about Kiera Knightley in the title role).

I'm not so concerned about Richard Armitage. Have you seen how brilliant (and musical) he is in the trailer for The Hobbit?

Finally, if your as much of a Downton junkie as I am, this website is hilarious.

*screencaps courtesy of Ravenclawwit

2012 Resolutions...so far

2012-01-05T11:56:00.001-06:00

2012 has begun on a marvelous note! Not only did my friend Abercathy throw a sensational New Year's Eve party (with a wacky version of charades, chocolate covered pretzels, and lots of sparkling grape juice), but we skipped town after midnight to shoot fireworks. Some of us weren't content with just fireworks though, so we played us some FIREBALL TENNIS (the brainchild of a friend who will henceforth be known as Mr. Insanity).

This was without a doubt my most memorable New Year's celebration yet, and the last few days of leisure before returning to work this week were unquestionably fabulous--full of Willow, good food, and good friends. Now I have something even better to look forward to next week (which I'll write about next week).

I debated actually making resolutions for the new year, since next week I'll be making goals for my 4th decade of life. But I couldn't resist the opportunity to catalog all the phenomenal things I'm going to do this year! Read 'em and weep.

Make gnocchi successfully
Moderate persistent Insalata Caprese craving
Complete at least 100 pages of rubbish manuscript
Get a crockpot and cook meals in it
Amp resistance to personal blood-sucking demon (a.k.a take more iron pills)
Avoid occupational termination
Eat less sugar, more vegetables
Reunite with thermals and Ingrid Michaelson
Publish a scholarly article
Pursue literary love affair with Leo Tolstoy
Stop being upset about classic literature/musical cinematic adaptation casting decisions by focusing on happiness about classic fantasy cinematic adaptation casting decisions
Have epic adventures in San Diego, Boston, Houston, and one more unknown destination (possibly Anaheim or Raleigh-Durham)
Cultivate relationships with amazing, marvelous, and wonderful people (I might be able to squeeze in the awesome and intelligent ones, too)
Learn lots of stuff

Lastly, my most practical lesson learned this holiday season: when loving parents ask what you want for Christmas, don't ask for something you know you'll eventually buy yourself. Ask for things you really need but forget every time you go to the store--like thumbtacks and plastic sheet protectors. Or a crockpot.

Books of 2011

2012-01-01T13:00:00.000-06:00

Hello, 2012! Once again, it's time for the yearly roundups. It's been a fantastic year for reading, although it looks like my taste is becoming more pigeonholed. And I only read 7 off my 100 item reading list. It's harder to stick to the list when some of the books on it lead me to so many wonderful tangents! But back to the favorite 10. I recommend these first 7 unreservedly.

1. Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy (1870s) - One of the most astounding works of literature I've read, but it's length is not for the faint of heart. Based on this novel alone, I'm with Virginia Woolf--Tolstoy may be the greatest of all novelists.

2. Fire and Hemlock, by Diana Wynne Jones (1985) - Possibly one of my favorite fantasy novels, but I'll have to read it again to be sure. It has also been named by other reviewers to be Diana Wynne Jones' most complex and philosophical work, and all in the guise of a retelling of the old Scottish ballad, "Tam Lin".

3. Coronets and Steel and Blood Spirits, by Sherwood Smith (2010/2011) - A 23-year-old graduate student finds herself in the midst of a generations-old power dispute in a tiny central European country surrounded by myths and magic. I want another sequel!

4. The Queen’s Thief series [The Thief, The Queen of Attolia, The King of Attolia, A Conspiracy of Kings], by Megan Whalen Turner (1996-2010) - I read somewhere that Turner is planning two more books in the series. Thank goodness, because this is one series that deserves it!

5. To Say Nothing of the Dog, by Connie Willis (1997) -This comedy of errors encompassing time travel and Victorian society is delightful, and requires a particular sense of humor.

6. The Graveyard Book, by Neil Gaiman (2008) - This Newbery Winner is inspired by and structured after Kipling's Jungle Books, but instead of a child raised by wolves in the Indian jungle, this child is raised by ghosts in a graveyard. Like Diana Wynne Jones (who he was friends with), Gaiman never writes the same book twice, but all share his inventive, slightly dark humor. Gaiman is a master of atmosphere and is becoming one of my favorite fantastical wordsmiths.

7. The Help, by Kathryn Stockett (2009) - Occasionally there's a good reason for mega-bestsellers to exist. This one is nothing deep, but it's an enjoyable and rewarding read.

8. The Man of Property, by John Galsworthy (1906) - This is an elegantly constructed study of the upper middle class in England during the early 1900s, but I only recommend it for readers who've read most of the Victorian canon of social satire and crave more.

9. His Majesty's Dragon, by Naomi Novik (2006) - Finished this one in the nick of time to put it on the list! As much of a fantasy lover as I am, I've read surprisingly few dragon books. I've seen this one called a combination of Anne McCaffrey (the Dragons of Pern series) and Patrick O'Brian (Master & Commander), and that combination intrigued me. Laurence is captain of an English naval ship during the Napoleonic Wars until he captures a French frigate carrying an unhatched dragon egg. The hatching brings a whirlwind of change as the dragon, Temeraire, chooses Laurence as his handler and Laurence is hastily reassigned to a socially outcast branch of the military, the aviator corps of dragon riders. But Laurence realizes his newfound friendship with Temeraire is worth all the sacrifice. The early part of the novel suffers somewhat from the lack of major conflict, but Novik sets a quick pace and renders vibrant scenes of both action and interaction. In the end, it's the relationships between men and dragons that makes this read rewarding.

10. The Grapes of Wrath, by John Steinbeck (1939) - It's on here because it's a masterpiece, but reading such a depressing book is not something I can bring myself to do more than once a year. I doubt if I will ever reread this.

Honorable Mention:
The Alloy of Law, by Brandon Sanderson (2011) - Read it if you crave more exciting plot and the creatively utilized powers of Mistborn, but don't expect much substance or character development.
The Hunger Games, by Susanne Collins (2008) - Finally got around to it! Without a doubt the most riveting book I've read and a novel premise, but some things about the characterization and worldbuilding (or lack-of) bugged me. Reading synopses satisfied my curiosity about the sequels.
Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption, by Stephen King (1982) - This novella, the first I've read of King's, is as good as the movie but to be perfectly honest, I'd rather just watch the movie. Some things are simply more powerful cinematically.

Best rereads: The Story Girl, The Golden Road, and Jane Eyre were the only books I reread this year. Of course they're all worth reading.

I also read several nonfiction books for either curiosity or research. If that continues maybe I'll do some kind of review next year, but reading solely to learn about something means I don't have any kind of informed opinion of the subject matter. I can rate on little more than enjoyability.

Films of 2011

2011-12-31T14:27:00.000-06:00

Without preface, here are my favorite films watched in 2011!

English Language

1. The Tree of Life (2011) - Some art just strikes a chord. This is such a one.

2. True Grit (2010) - Old fashioned fun with fantastic characters and the Coen brothers' dark comedic touch.

3. The Help (2011) - Up there with the best of chick flicks.

4. Creation (2009) - Lovely exploration of Charles Darwin's struggle with the death of his daughter and the completion of On the Origin of Species.

5. Jane Eyre (2011) - From another post: Several of Jane Eyre’s iconic scenes may have been edited out or truncated in this theatrical version (as in Pride & Prejudice 2005), but what is left is a superbly crafted mood piece. Jane Eyre has plenty of Gothic elements but, oddly enough, many of them were downplayed or cut out altogether. It’s Fukanaga’s unique touches that bring back the spirit of the novel, rather than rehashing what we’ve seen before. And I’ve never seen Jane and Rochester acted so well (the Michael Fassbender love among my sisters still hasn't let up).

6. The Man Who Knew too Little (1997) - How have I never seen this fabulousness before? Bill Murray has the unique distinction of starring in 2 mainstream comedies of the last 20 years that I actually like. Seriously, wow. I'm now convinced that my distaste for modern comedy is not because I have a contrary fetish for '40s screwballs. It's because it's either not that funny, or the crassness takes all the humor out of it. Case in point: I have oh, such pleasant memories of the first 5 minutes of The Other Guys (the "aim for the bushes" scene), but the rest of the movie was kinda trash. But who am I to judge? I still think poop jokes are funny.

7. I Know Where I’m Going! (1945) - With The Red Shoes, Black Narcissus, A Matter of Life & Death, and A Canterbury Tale, Powell & Pressburger were some of the most skilled British filmmaking contemporaries of Hollywood's Golden Age. I watched a slew of their films this year, and I Know Where I'm Going! was my favorite. Wendy Hiller (who actually played a sharper Eliza Doolittle in 1938's Pygmalion than Audrey Hepburn's fair lady) plays a headstrong young woman on her way to a Scottish Island to marry a rich, older man. Both the people around her and the forces of nature seem to want to keep her from her destination. Does she really know where she's going, or is her stubbornness going to keep her from finding happiness in an unexpected place? Mixed with a legendary curse on the local Laird, the story results in a richly atmospheric conclusion.

8. Sita Sings the Blues (2008) - This film has two things going for it. First, the creator, Nina Paley, released it in the public domain, so you can watch it anywhere. Second, it's like nothing I've ever seen before--a retelling of parts of the Ramayana juxtaposed with Paley's own experience with marriage, using several different styles of animation, including one replicating traditional Indian Shadow Puppets, and several bluesy musical numbers. Both funny and insightful. Don't judge this marvelous film by my inadequate description, just watch it.

9. Hereafter (2010) - This film was much more organic than I expected, but considering Clint Eastwood directed, I shouldn't have been surprised. Those expecting a typical Matt Damon role were probably bored out of their minds, but although I had no idea where it was going I found the film very moving and, particularly in the subplot with Bryce Dallas Howard, realistic (after suspending disbelief about Matt Damon's psychic abilities, of course).

10. Since I haven't made it to the theater in months, there are several movies that might be on this list but aren't (Midnight in Paris, Hugo, Tintin, War Horse, The Artist, possibly Moneyball) Rather than filling this spot with one of the many films I liked but didn't love, I'll give a shout out to my favorite tv shows of the year. The first one is, of course, "Downton Abbey". But only the first season. The second show, I just watched this week: "Sherlock". Benedict Cumberbatch (soon to be Smaug!) and Martin Freeman (soon to be Bilbo!) as modernized counterparts to the world's most famous detective and his friend are marvelous. I normally don't care for crime shows, but in this one the investigations are well integrated with a superbly written character story. At 90 min a piece, the (so far) 3 episodes are paced almost like movies. And the dialogue is pure gold.

Others I enjoyed: Son of Rambow, Unfaithfully Yours, The Adjustment Bureau, Source Code, Black Narcissus, Days of Heaven, Dean Spanley, Red, The Secret of Kells, Doctor Zhivago, Waterloo Bridge, X-Men: First Class, Rango, The Way Back, Meek's Cutoff, Super 8, Larry Crowne, and Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows.

Non-English Language

2011 wasn’t my greatest year for foreign films. That’s probably because my favorite Indian actors haven’t had as much output the past couple of years, and the films they do put out are unconventional roles for them. So I've cut my list to 5, with only the first 2 as absolute loves, and the 1st one is actually a rewatch.

1. Nuvvostanante Nenoddantana (2005, India-Telugu) - Hyderabad is where it's at in South Indian cinema, as far as I'm concerned (as opposed to Bollywood, which is based in Mumbai). Magadheera is full of awesome (remember when the jeep flew into the helicopter? Let me give you a refresher), and I adore NVNV. Siddharth has all the charisma of a young Shahrukh in his role as Santosh, a spoiled NRI (non-resident Indian) who falls for Siri, a country girl he meets at his cousin's wedding. The first half has all the goofiness and contention that you would expect from an Indian romcom (no, that wasn't just a trick of the light or even a fantasy sequence--Siddharth wears that ostrich suit for real), but it's the second half that makes the film resonate. Siri's brother (played by the same awesomeness of an actor who drove that jeep in Magadheera), because of their traumatizing childhood experiences, won't give her up to a spoiled rich kid so easily. Santosh has to prove he's made of substantial stuff. Why don't I own this film?

2. Baran (2001, Iran) - I resisted watching this one for a few years because my previous experiences with Iranian cinema were sooo depressing. But Netflix kept throwing it in my face, so I finally caved. I can't say this is a happy film, but it's so sweet that it doesn't matter. Lateef is a teenager with a job serving tea to construction workers, until one of the workers is injured and his son is sent to take his place--or rather, Lateef's place, moving Lateef into manual labor. Lateef has it in for his replacement and continually tries to sabotage the boy's work until, one day, Lateef discovers that the boy is actually a girl. In a family of Afghan refugees the girl, Baran, has to work in order for her family to survive. Gradually, Lateef falls in love with Baran, resorting to any measures to help her, and although she doesn't say a word the entire film, it is clear from Baran's face that she cares for him as well. This is a very touching film about love and sacrifice, with visual images that leave a lasting impression.

3. Sophie Scholl: The Final Days (2005, Germany) - I first heard of Sophie Scholl, a member of a anti-Nazi non-violent student resistance group, a few years ago from the book Hitler Youth: Growing up in Hitler's Shadow. This film is a sharp and thought provoking account of her titular last days: her resistance involvement, arrest, and trial. The acting is tip top. I love hearing stories of German citizens around WWII who worked against the tyranny of their government.

4. Raincoat (2004, India-Hindi) - This may be inspired by O'Henry's "Gift of the Magi", but like most Indian adaptations, the final product has only the most basic of similarities to the original. Ajay Devgan and Aishwariya Rai play former lovers who meet to catch up, but as neither one's life has turned out like expected, they find it difficult to be honest with one another. The story is spare and naturalistic, in contrast to Bollywood's usual opulence, but I liked it because of the lovely music and the chemistry between the stars. It's one of Aishwariya's best performances.

5. M (1931, Germany) - This is a telling specimen of how shocking early cinema can be. It’s as high quality as a 1940s Hollywood film, but it covers a subject that wouldn't have been dared in America--a serial killer of children. Even farther than that, it delves into the psychology of the killer and makes him almost sympathetic in his derangedness. This would be impossible were it not for the masterful performance of Peter Lorre (who may be recognized from Casablanca or Arsenic & Old Lace). This is a seriously creepy movie for it's time!

Others I enjoyed: The Owl and the Sparrow (2007, Vietnam); I’ve Loved You So Long (2008, France); Dhobi Ghat (2010, India-Hindi); Dabangg (2010, India-Hindi); Yahaan (2005, India-Hindi)

Winter Must Be Cold for Those with No Warm Memories

2011-12-22T22:15:00.002-06:00

I just watched Christmas in Connecticut and since it's supposed to be a holiday classic, I expected to have a fuzzy good time full of emotional hot chocolate. It turns out to be a decent comedy of errors with Barbara Stanwyck in fine form, with about the only thing Christmas-related being that there's a sleigh! It was a slight disappointment, but there are plenty other movies to make up for it.

Do you have a favorite holiday movie? There are any number of Christmas movies around that people call their favorites: Elf, Miracle on 34th Street, White Christmas, Muppet Christmas Carol, Home Alone, The Polar Express, Charlie Brown Christmas, The Nightmare Before Christmas, even Die Hard.

Here are a few movies I like to watch every Christmas season:

A Christmas Story - I didn't watch the entire thing until college, but catching bits and pieces of it on television was an integral part of my childhood holiday season.

It's a Wonderful Life - I don't think anything needs to be said about this one.

My mouth's bleeding, Burt! What do you know about that!

How the Grinch Stole Christmas - another film integral to my childhood. Of course, I'm referring to the old animated short, which actually follows the original story.

Joyeux Noel - I've actually only seen this film once, but the story of a Christmas Eve truce during the trenches in WWI is so beautiful that I'm going to make my family watch it this weekend.

Mickey's Christmas Carol - there are undoubtedly better adaptations of Dicken's classic novella, but this is the first one I saw, and it is imprinted in my memory.

The Snowman - another classic animated short, it's so magical that I can't believe I never heard of it until I was an adult. It's also the origin of the song "Walking in the Air".

We're surfing in the air!

On the other hand, there are a couple Christmas themed movies that are so wonderful that I'll watch them at any time of the year: The Shop Around the Corner and Love Actually. I've watched them both this month though, and I have to say that each packs an extra punch when viewed in the appropriate season.

Why are there so few movies revolving around other holidays? On "Remember, remember, the 5th of November", a lot of people I know watched V for Vendetta. I'm thinking about keeping traditions for all the other holidays I can think of movies for.

The next holiday is, of course, New Year's Day. I'm thinking of The Hudsucker Proxy or The Apartment. The Hudsucker Proxy is funny, but has more style than soul. Despite The Apartment's seedy subject matter, Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine are too adorable. It may be the winner.

I don't know that there are any good movies about Martin Luther King, but I'm sure I can find something awesome for Black History Month.

Next up is Groundhog Day, and the clear winner is...Groundhog Day! If I can even wait until February 2 that is, because it's another one I can watch at any moment.

"Ned...Ryerson?" "BING!"

As for my least favorite holiday, I might be able to bring myself to watch An Affair to Remember or Sleepless in Seattle, but don't count on it!

St. Patrick's Day: it's a toss up between Darby O'Gill & the Little People and Waking Ned Devine. Which one should I choose?

Easter: Ben-Hur, hand's down.

Memorial Day: An obvious choice here would be Saving Private Ryan, but I don't like violent war movies. Maybe Gettysburg, since I haven't seen it in years, and the holiday actually originated after the Civil War. Or perhaps The Last of the Mohicans just for fun!

Independence Day: Well, it's a choice. There's any number of superior politically or revolutionary themed movies out there, but I'll probably still go with Will Smith.

Labor Day: This may be my one and only excuse to re-watch Newsies!

Halloween: I joined some friends this year to watch a terrible old Vincent Price movie, but we also caught enough of The Corpse Bride for me to fall in love with it (I'd seen it before, but sometimes that's the way it goes). That one will be my tradition.

Thanksgiving: I could go the pilgrim route and watch The New World. More than likely though, I would go for something like The Blind Side (for the Thanksgiving scene) or Babette's Feast (because of the astounding meal and gratitude it depicts). That is, if there's any time for movie watching between football games!

Have I left great holiday appropriate films off? What are your favorite holiday movies, Christmas or otherwise?

Jane's Thought Bubbles

2011-12-18T22:11:00.000-06:00

For anyone who is interested, I started a new blog a few weeks ago. I hope it won't affect the frequency of updates on this one too much because it has a completely different topic, something I've long felt l like I should be writing my thoughts on in a routine manner--the scriptures and spiritual matters. The first post describes in detail why I decided to do it, and you can judge for yourself whether you're the target audience. http://janeheiressthoughtbubbles.blogspot.com/ will most likely be updated more often than my trusty Kitchen Sink, but I'm sure I'll have plenty more books and movies to gush about, and bizarre stories to share!

Fire and Hemlock and Diana Wynne Jones

2011-12-12T22:58:00.000-06:00

I’ve written before about my adoration of Howl’s Moving Castle, both the film and the book. The film that spurred my Miyazaki love was also the one that led me to Diana Wynne Jones. Since she passed away last March after a long career encompassing over 30 novels, I figure it’s a good time to write about her. I’ve read several of her books since Howl: two Chrestomanci novels, Charmed Life and The Lives of Chrisopher Chant; the two sequels to Howl’s Moving Castle, Castle in the Sky and The House of Many Ways; two of the Dalemark books, Cart & Cwidder and Drowned Ammet; and the amazing Tough Guide to Fantasyland. These books (with the exception of Howl, which I adore) are all on a scale between absorbing-but-not-particularly-memorable, and perfectly charming. All have a magical touch that is unique to Diana Wynne Jones, but each is different. I’ve only read a fraction of her books, but from what I understand, they never repeat themselves, even those in a “series” (which is why she's featured in my series rant).

Last week I read Fire and Hemlock, and I must say, I think it has replaced Howl as my favorite. A modernized retelling of the ballad of Tam Lin, the heroine is nineteen year old Polly Whittaker, who discovers while looking at an old photograph that she has two sets of memories. The nearly forgotten memories take her back to when, as a young girl, Polly meets a man named Thomas Lynn. Polly and Mr. Lynn begin an odd little friendship that blossoms in all sorts of directions as Polly grows up. Gradually, Polly begins to realize that her Mr. Lynn is tangled up in something she knows nothing about, and she is the only one who can save him from a dark fate.

The story is a little slow and a little disturbing at the beginning (the grown Thomas Lynn and ten-year-old Polly hanging out alone?). Jones never even brings up the suspicion of something pervy going on (although she could have been making a statement about Polly’s mother’s neglect), but she takes steps to show that at least their peculiar friendship is not obsession at first sight on Polly's part. Polly has a life of her own, and Mr. Lynn’s periodic packages of books are her only reminder of their first encounters. Much of the novel covers Polly’s memories of her parents’ issues and her adolescence with painful verisimilitude. It was at this point that Jones cast a spell over me. The book has been haunting me for days.

Never have I read a fantasy novel that depicted growing up so realistically and changing relationships so seamlessly--but with a magical thread that comes into the foreground only when Polly realizes her murky memories, the mythology of her own life, are real as rock. The "Now Here" and "Nowhere" elements, as well as the workings of the “fairies”, remind me strongly of the dual spacial realities in the brilliant Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell. Also impressive is how as Polly grows older, Thomas Lynn grows younger--in her perception. Because her perception, and ours with it, changes as she matures. These characters are the most realistic of any I've read by Jones. They may be on the cusp between likability and the reverse at times, but they are nonetheless fascinating.

Something about this book doesn’t sit right with me. It could be the confusing ending (I had to read the last 20 pages twice, but that could possibly have been because I was in the car the first time), it could be the "romance" between two characters who start out as a grown man and a little girl. It could be the tangle of contradicting memories and truths that are never quite smoothed out. But this very sense of something being not-quite-right is one of the novel's greatest strengths. It will take another reading to sort out how I feel about it but reading it was an experience, which is more than can be said about most other fiction. I read most of the second half while waiting for my folks to pick me up from a flight, and I’ve never spent a more pleasant 3 hours in an airport.

Incidentally, Fire and Hemlock is about to be reprinted in March (with a forward by Garth Nix). All I can say is, it's about time! I've been checking bookstores for this for over a year, and finally found an old hard back at my trusty Half Prince Books on Thanksgiving weekend. I was afraid I paid too much for it, but now I don't regret one penny.

I am sad that Diana Wynne Jones is no longer here to continue her magic, but not nearly as sad as I would be if I didn’t have a couple dozen more of her books to read!

The Tree of Life

2011-12-01T21:58:00.001-06:00

The Tree of Life has attracted a lot of critical attention, both negative and positive, since it ran away with the grand prize at the Cannes Film Festival earlier this year. There are many films about which are said “you either love it or you hate it”, but the reasons why are in few cases more clear than with The Tree of Life. Expectations can color an experience one way or the other, but the fact is that this unique style of filmmaking either works for you, or it doesn’t.

Personally, I see it as a masterpiece.

What is The Tree of Life about? Grief, memory, loss of innocence. The creation of the universe, of life, the soul. The complexity of family relationships and a child’s perceptions of their parents. The growth of conscience. The chaos of the mind and the endless confusion of living. That’s what I noticed, anyway. There are many more in-depth analyses you will find elsewhere; any philosophical or religious statement that Terrence Malick was trying to make with this autobiographical piece went almost completely over my head. All I know is that I can’t remember watching a single other film that moved me in such a personal way. My thoughts on the film are jumbled and incomplete, mainly because I’ve only seen it once, and there’s just so much to it that can’t all be addressed in one modest review.

The narrative begins with a couple learning of their 19-year-old son’s death. This is the film’s emotional hook. If Jessica Chastain and Brad Pitt in the first few minutes don’t move you, then stop watching the film right there. The rest won’t be worth it to you. I teared up every time Chastain’s bereaved face appeared, and spent most of the remainder of the film with my heart in my throat (but everyone knows I get overly emotional over movies).

Do not come into this film for the actors. Anyone expecting a typical Brad Pitt or Sean Penn film will hate it. Brad Pitt is not Brad Pitt in this film. He’s the stubborn, conflicted, self-absorbed Mr. O’Brien. On the other hand, Jessica Chastain brings the needed ethereality to the angelic view of a loving, but somewhat enabling mother. Both are superb, as is Penn in his small role as their eldest son, Jack, as an adult. But the real star of this film is Hunter McCracken as young Jack. It awes me how well this young actor is able to carry the weight of the film on his shoulders. Jack is essentially the protagonist of the film, or the person through whose mind we see.

To give away the plot would be nearly impossible, for there barely is one. We see short sequences of Jack as a middle aged man. He is still clearly grieving for his brother who died years before, and a short telephone conversation with his dad leads him to contemplate who he is, who God is, and the nature of life and death. This encompasses memories of his parents, the creation of the universe, his childhood, and the onset of adolescence. There may not be a linear narrative--I wouldn’t even break the film up into scenes, more like vignettes or montages, some realistic and others surrealist--but the fluid emotional narrative, rejecting traditional character building in favor of the chaos of human consciousness and memory, makes perfect sense. The Tree of Life is a dazzling feast for the eyes, ears, and heart beyond anything I’ve ever seen on film. I know there are other films along these same lines, but the only one I’ve seen to compare it to would be 2001: A Space Odyssey with its tripartite narrative and surrealist images.

I saw emotions onscreen, ones that I could relate deeply to because they’re universal and yet intensely personal. It took me through so many of the real sensations I’ve felt in regards to my own life, as opposed to the synthetic emotions other films inspire. This is particularly true regarding to the childhood, adolescent doubt, and sibling/parental relationships portions; I haven’t yet experienced great grief, so those sensations were of the more imaginary, synthetic kind. The movie is definitely slow paced, but I wasn’t bored once. At times I wondered when the discomfort would end, but I believe that was the point. Pain and discomfort never recede right when you want them too. You just endure until they fade.

While the details in the film don’t exactly correspond with the flavor of my childhood, some of them remind me explicitly of the mental picture I have of my father’s childhood, based on vignette’s he shares from time to time. And why not? The film is mostly set in Waco, Texas--an hour and a half away, and less than 10 years earlier than the setting of my dad’s childhood. The colors and patterns in the film evoke the comfort of the house my grandfather still lives in. And how refreshing it is to see Dallas, Texas in the contemporary scenes, rather than the obligatory New York City, Chicago, or L.A.!

For me, viewing The Tree of Life for the first time is something that can never be replicated. The exhilarating first hour is by far my favorite. After watching the rest--the darker side of innocence, the more complete picture of a family with complex issues, I won’t ever be able to view the beginning in quite the same way again. It’s just like life. Every good memory is twinged with some kind of bitterness. That’s why I can’t watch the film very often, although I honestly believe after one viewing that it is one of my all time favorites. It’s almost like waking up from a dream about someone you know, and having your feelings toward them darkened by your subconscious. It takes a few hours, sometimes a few days, for that effect to wear off. Sometimes it never does.

Being able to find sublimity in classical music is a great help in appreciating this film. The way the music and visuals are used together are what create the emotional transcendence I talked about above. There are some of my long-beloved pieces such as Smetana’s “The Moldau”, an exhilarating piece that captures childhood’s innocent sense of adventure and rapid movement to perfection. But there are also modern classical compositions that I would’ve never heard otherwise--Patrick Cassidy’s “Funeral March”, and Preisner’s “Lacrimosa”. The latter is one of the most breathtaking pieces I’ve heard, and it accompanies one of the film’s most remarked upon sequences. I’ve seen it called the “Big Bang sequence”, but I honestly didn’t even recognize it as that when I watched it. The scene seemed to me to depict the universe as a macrocosm of the human soul. As monumental, as heavenly as the vocals of “Lacrimosa” are, the most powerful aspect of the scene is how the climax of the piece is drowned out by the sound of eruption. In my mind, this takes the creation of the universe beyond something of supreme beauty, to something terrifyingly beyond our capacity to comprehend.

One of the rare public facts about Malick’s life is that his brother did die as a young adult, and since this is the only major plot point in an intensely introspective film, it’s difficult to believe that it isn’t autobiographical, that Jack isn’t a stand-in for the director himself. Like I said, I don’t see any obvious philosophical message in the film. It seems like Malick set out to create a visual epic poem of existential questions to which he has no answers. It’s more about observation than pontification. Maybe next time I watch it I’ll feel more equipped to discuss those questions. No doubt many will disagree with me, but because of this achievement I would consider Malick to be one of the true master artists of our age. At the least, he’s one of the few American directors today who could still be called an auteur.

For further watching I recommend The New World or Days of Heaven. Malick has only directed five feature films in his 40+ year career, and I haven’t seen Badlands or The Thin Red Line.

The Grapes of Wrath

2011-11-21T20:08:00.000-06:00

John Steinbeck's The Grapes of Wrath is a tough work for me to review. Literature of the Modernist Era is one of my less frequently visited eras of the last 250 years because isn’t wholly to my taste. My favorite writers of the period (E.M. Forster, Virginia Woolf, F. Scott Fitzgerald, and Edith Wharton) may have rejected Victorian optimism for a more complex view of the world, but their works still take place within the familiar and elegant realm of privileged society and manners. Aside from reading a few novellas in high school (Kafka’s The Metamorphosis, Conrad’s Heart of Darkness, and Steinbeck’s own Of Mice and Men), The Grapes of Wrath is my first plunge into the full gloominess of Modernism. How could a book that captures so well the desperation of some of our nation’s darkest years be anything else?

Furthermore, my mind is not attuned to dissecting the stylistic aspects of a Modernist novel. Little more than story, characters, and a vague idea of the quality of prose register while I’m reading. Steinbeck stated that his novel has at least five layers, but what those could be is beyond me. For a literary analysis you should definitely look elsewhere.

The story begins with Tom Joad returning home on parole after serving 4 years in prison for manslaughter. As he arrives at his parents’ Oklahoma farm, he finds them packed up and ready to leave, the impossible weather conditions in the dust bowl making it futile to even try to feed themselves, much less raise crops. There is promise of work in California and so, like hundreds of thousands of other farming families of the great plains, they head west to realize that promise.

On almost every page of this marvelous tour-de-force Steinbeck made me realize one more thing I take for granted. There are dozens of routes from the plains to California these days. Back then there was only Highway 66. Cars are reasonably dependable nowadays. The Joads had no idea how far their overcrowded, overburdened truck would get before something broke. There were no mechanics every 30 miles and the Joads had no way to pay them even if there were. They had to figure out how to patch up the problem or they would starve on the side of the road. If they ran out of gas they would starve on the side of the road. If one of them died, the rest had no choice but to break the law and bury them on the side of the road. No one could help others in difficulty much, for everyone was in the same boat. For the Joads, it wasn’t a mere road trip, it was a hazardous trek worthy of any pioneer.

Once the Joads get to their destination, they find what all their fellow migrant farmers are discovering: California is no promised land. The great number of “Okies” threaten many of the Californians, so prejudice abounds. Migrant workers are exploited as cheap labor, and they put up with it because their only alternative is to starve. What work there is is temporary, lasting a few weeks at most. The Joads’ only peaceful interlude from the constant threat of danger and starvation is a short stay in a government camp (as opposed to the other camps in peril every day of being burned out for trespassing), where the occupants govern themselves, avoiding the harshness of the outside lawmen. Even in these camps everyone, it seems, is living on borrowed time in the hope that some real work will turn up. A second fear the Joads must fight is the breaking up of their family which, in Ma Joad's mind, is almost akin to starvation.

The novel is every bit as bleak as it sounds in description. What makes it great is how vivid the story is, so vivid that I doubt if some of these images will ever leave me. Steinbeck knows how to create a raw scene that punches like a movie in the mind. The characters may be representing the everyman, but there is something larger than life about Ma and Tom Joad, the former preacher Jim Casy, even Rose of Sharon (or Rosasharn, as her family calls her). The close of the novel doesn’t leave much hope for a happy ending for the family by any means, but there is a promise that these hardy individuals, even while the world is repeatedly collapsing around them, will persevere. They will keep going and keep trying through whatever befalls them. Even if death takes them along the way, it isn’t a tragic end, only part of the journey. The tragedy would only be for them to give up. Ma Joad says it well in this passage from Chapter 28:

“...Man, he lives in jerks--baby born an’ a man dies, an’ that’s a jerk--gets a farm an’ loses his farm, an’ that’s a jerk. Woman, it’s all one flow, like a stream, little eddies, little waterfalls, but the river, it goes right on. Woman looks at it like that. We ain’t gonna die out. People is goin’ on--changin’ a little, maybe, but goin’ right on.”

“How can you tell?” Uncle John demanded. “What’s to keep ever’thing from stoppin’’ all the folks from jus’ gittin’ tired an’ layin’ down?”

Ma considered. She rubbed the shiny back of one hand with the other, pushed the fingers of her right hand between the fingers of her left. “Hard to say,” she said. “Ever’thing we do--seems to me is aimed right at goin’ on. Seems that way to me. Even gettin’ hungry--even bein’ sick; some die, but the rest is tougher. Jus’ try to live the day, jus’ the day.”

The beauty of the Joad’s story is in their daily perseverance, even when there’s a good chance they won’t make it. The other inspiring aspect is the sense of community that grows between the struggling families. Others help the Joads as much as they can, and they help others in return. The degree and nature of that help varies according the situation. This theme reaches its culmination in two characters: Tom and Rose of Sharon. Unfortunately, going into detail would involve spoilers.

On the flip side, there is another story told, one that angers and unsettles. This is one stylistic aspect I can comment on. Each chapter alternates between the Joads’ story and parallel sketches of the Dust Bowl peoples as a whole. These chapters are a two-fold effective way of registering the emotional weight of the main narrative. First of all, we get the larger picture of what is happening in the country and its people. Some may dismiss those chapters as a history lesson, but in this context they add gravity to the Joad’s experience. We see the possibilities of what could happen to them through what many others are enduring. Plenty of bad things happened to them, but they weren’t pelted with every bad fortune--there were plenty more misfortunes that they didn’t experience. Through these chapters we also see the general mood that settled over the nation and the peoples within it. This mood isn’t a literary device. It’s a reality, as we can observe in the emotional and political climate hovering over our nation during our own economically difficult time.

These chapters do slow down the story’s pacing, but that is also an effective result. The story needs to be slow-paced to be an accurate reflection of its subject. Steinbeck creates a sense of the waiting, and waiting that the Joads have to endure without throwing in needless filler.

That’s all I have to remark upon, and I know I only mentioned a fraction of the scope of this novel. Even the celebrated Biblical imagery is lost on me. I can easily recognize The Grapes of Wrath as a great novel and I highly recommend it, but it’s one that I doubt I will ever reread. Neither does it change my perspective on Modernist literature as something I can only take in infrequent doses. As thought provoking as it is, as much as engrossed as I was every time I picked it up, I am reminded again how difficult it is for me to deal emotionally with that dull gloom that settles when I read such a book.

Today I feel like Han Solo

2011-11-17T18:21:00.000-06:00

Today I'm feeling very powerful. I'm feeling daring, clever in my quips. Today I feel like Han Solo!

That's what skinny jeans with boots do for you. A week and a half ago I was as anti-skinny as they come. Who wants tight jeans that accentuate the wrong curves, don't know where to go at the top of your shoes, and probably aren't long enough, anyway? And then my good friend jojoba, whose opinion I trust more than any fashionista, shared with me the confidence benefits of wearing skinny jeans and boots. I had to try it! I mean, who wouldn't want to feel like Han Solo? Conveniently, the very next weekend I took a trip to San Marcos, where the famous Outlet Mall was on the agenda.You can guess what the first item on my shopping list was.

It so happens that the aesthetic effect of my skinny jeans is not what I expected. They make my legs look curvy, not at all like an upside down triangle as I would've thought before. They make me look like my thighs don't even touch (I'm not advocating thigh girdling, it's just an observation). With my nice black boots, ruffled white blouse, and red accessories (another fabulous San Marcos find), I look quite the sophistication. A sleek, sophisticated woman...who feels like Han Solo. THIS is the life.

**********************

...which is probably why I've been craving a Star Wars re-watch (original trilogy only, of course). That, and I am getting increasingly worried about John Williams' health--not that there's any reason to worry about John Williams' heath other than that he's approaching the big 8.0. He can't compose forever, and I'm dreading the day when there will be no possibility of any new John Williams magic to sing in my ears. As it is, he has two promising scores on their way soon--The Adventures of Tintin and War Horse.

I saw John Williams and Steven Spielberg chatting on TCM the other night. Awesome!

I'm also in the market for a good Blu-Ray player just so I can indulge in the Blu-Ray editions of Star Wars and Pride & Prejudice. Any recommendations?

Downton Abbey 2: ripping it to shreds, or being too soft?

2011-11-14T11:05:00.000-06:00

Enjoy the gorgeous trailer for Downton Abbey Series 2. I love how smartly it uses Scala and Kolacny Brothers' cover of "With or Without You", just as Series 1 used the same group's version of "Every Breath You Take".

I don't know how to approach series 2 of Downton Abbey other than to thank Julian Fellowes again for reminding me why I don’t make a practice of watching television shows. This time it’s not because I hate the inevitable rolling of the credits, kicking off another seven days of suspense before the next “fix”. It’s because when a show is as well written as DA1 was, it’s nearly impossible for a followup to live up to its promise. Character driven tv shows always sink, the main reason being, I believe, because you can’t keep developing characters indefinitely. Once your characters are well established, all that’s left to do is throw as many obstacles at them as possible and watch them react, keeping them away at all costs from what will make them most happy and, therefore, keeping the audience in artificial suspense.

Such is the the case with DA2 (which I fully planned on waiting to watch on PBS until I found out my sister was watching them--I knew I wouldn’t be able to restrain myself from drowning in spoilers). It’s rather what I expected, so there wasn’t much to disappoint. Series 1 ended with the announcement of WWI--brilliant bang of an ending. DA2 opens two years into the war, where Matthew Crawley, heir of Downton, is in the trenches. The episode focuses on Matthew coming back to Downton for the first time since he broke with Mary, but with a sweet, golden-haired fiance, Lavinia Swire, on his arm. What a blow for Mary who, abandoning the rallying spirit that Carson so adores in her, still obviously pines for him (presumably because he’s still inheriting her fortune and because she knows she brought on her own misfortune). Jokes aside, I still find the Mary and Matthew storyline to be the most compelling, and believe the show would be lost without it.

!Spoiler alert! (If you haven't watched it, skip to the last three paragraphs)

I was shocked at how choppy the first two episodes were, how much they tried to cram in. As another reviewer put it, “At this rate Downton Abbey might make it into the Guinness Book of Records for the most subplots introduced in an episode.” Every subplot, so nicely paced and balanced in the first series, fights for center stage. Bates and Anna are suddenly engaged? But then he’s gone forever--no wait, he’s back! The abruptness of those developments negates the slow buildup of their story over the first series, and frankly, makes their thread for the rest of DA2 rather boring and repetitive. Branson too, whose feelings for Sybil are only hinted at in DA1, makes his declaration at the very beginning of DA2, only to badger Sybil every episode, it seems, whether she is “ready to make a decision” yet. Additionally, each episode is conveniently framed around Matthew’s leave, making it seem like everyone else’s lives are on hold when he’s not there.

Furthermore, I didn't know that “As if” (with the appropriate attitude) and “You win” were used in supposed 1916. Did Julian Fellowes get sick and have to hire a substitute for dialogue fill? He is obviously more adept at scripting subtle household details than major world events shaping the lives of individuals. The grace and intimacy of the first series are almost entirely gone. What that leaves is the characters. Let’s see how the upstairs and downstairs crowds fare.

Upstairs:
Maggie Smith is still a wicked scene stealer as Dowager Countess Violet Crawley, and has at least one quotably witty opinion to offer each episode. But her character now exists to do just that--offer opinions, whether they are in character or not. More often than not she seems to be the most feminist character of the whole bunch. Maggie Smith is, of course, so good that she almost always disguises her character’s inconsistency.

Violet’s nemesis, Isobel Crawley, becomes Cora’s nemesis as well when she butts into household business with the expectation she will manage Downton as a military convalescent home. Her blindness to the protocol she should follow is a bit much, even for the overly eager Isobel. She is conveniently gone later in the series to make way for some heavy emotional complications to the question, “Who will nurse Matthew back to health?”

Cora may be insufferably dim when it comes to O’Brien (more on that later), but she’s more or less consistent in DA2. It’s Robert, Lord Grantham who infuriates. As head of the household, he has remarkably little to do. That’s a major point of this series--he wants to be fighting in the war and feels utterly useless because he can’t--but surely Fellowes could’ve given him something more interesting to do than go all weak-kneed over a housemaid! That subplot is completely contrived and utterly embarrassing, although the adjoining one of the increasing distance between Robert and Cora is realistic. Since such relationship facets are what made this show successful in the first place, it could have reached its apex in a more natural way than an almost-but-let’s-remember-our-honor-at-the-last-second affair. At least Fellowes didn’t destroy the earl’s integrity entirely by having him go through with it.

Of the Crawley sisters Sybil fares fairly well, especially during her work as a nurse in the early episodes, but I’m not sure she really loves Branson as much as the idea of living a useful and varied life. That could be an interesting development in DA3. Edith, on the other hand, starts out ridiculously desperate for affection (wtheck did she think she was doing with that married farmer?), but improves in likability and believability as the series continues--at least until the “Patrick” episode, after which she practically disappears.

Mary comes off the best, although the edge of her rivalry with Edith has been completely dropped, making Mary--dare I say it?--disappointingly sympathetic. Stunning Michelle Dockery is still able to bring Mary’s steely personality off, even if she spends most of the series either turning a blind eye to the domination attempts of her new fiance, Sir Richard Carlisle, or mooning over Matthew. When it comes to Matthew, Michelle Dockery nails it over and over. Just watch her face in the fundraiser concert scene of episode 4. Matthew’s and William’s sudden arrival is undoubtedly soapy, but the scene is carried off beautifully. Mary looks like she’s about to jump out of her skin, or snog him, or something else extreme. But she’s Mary, so she stays composed. Their scenes are the highlights of the early episodes. Like a typical man, Matthew doesn’t even realize he’s still crazy about Mary, while she’s fully aware of her own feelings but trying to ignore them--and like a typical girl, she doesn’t succeed.

Sir Richard Carlisle may be a creep, but he’s a delightful antagonist (especially in his confrontation with Vera). I rather enjoy his character even while it infuriates me that Mary convinces herself that she could find any semblance of happiness with him.

And Matthew. Oh, Matthew. How two and fro you’ve been tossed! Lavinia or Mary, lost or found, wheelchair-bound or walking, heir to the earldom or lowly solicitor? With so many external events hammering him, Matthew’s character never has a chance to lose its integrity with melodramatic blunders--that is, until the Spanish flu sweeps through Downton. Come on, man, you know your fiance had to go. The only question was how to get rid of her with the least damage done to your honor. But then, you did make one blunder. You kissed Mary and let your fiance see it.

As for Saint Lavinia, I really hoped Fellowes would find a more creative way to do her in. He couldn’t even content himself with one annoying cliche--he had to include the noble sacrifice, too. The more daring route would have been for Matthew to--gasp!--actually marry Lavinia and live happily without Mary. But that would defy both the rules of tv show plotting and audience expectations (I’m not excluding myself from audience expectations, which is why I’m paranthetically glad he didn’t go that route). Even though it was shamelessly melodramatic, it's to Dan Stevens' credit that I felt some real emotional gravitas in how Matthew responded to Lavinia’s death. I’m glad Fellowes didn’t tie Matthew’s relationship with Mary into a pretty package--then Sir Richard would only have to be shot.

Downstairs:
I spotted the resolution of the Vera Bates story a mile away, and knew by episode 7 what the last scene of the series finale would be. But as I’ve already complained about Anna and Bates, I’ll leave it at that. Even with a lame story, they’re so nice that you can’t help liking them.

William seems to have done a complete 180 since DA1, but I guess that’s natural since he’s been out from under Thomas’ thumb. I was surprised at how forward and expectant he was with Daisy, though. I thought his death was too convenient a way to tie it up at first, but at the same time, it sure didn’t tie up Daisy’s life in a package. As I’m writing this, I think Daisy’s and William’s story may be the most original and emotionally complex one of the lot.

O’Brien and Thomas. Delightfully disgruntled O’Brien, and devious Thomas. I am appalled at the lengths Fellowes went to to bring Thomas back to Downton in the early episodes. Knowing he’s a troublemaker and a thief, the powers that be (Robert, Cora, Carson) barely even blink an eye, even help him back along to the local hospital, and then as manager of the Abbey’s convalescent ward! O’Brien’s guilt over what she did to Cora in DA1 doesn’t stop her from influencing Cora for Thomas’ benefit, but O’Brien’s ability to manipulate doesn’t come off strong enough. It only makes Cora look like a willfully blind idiot. Nevertheless, O’Brien is still an interesting character. She reminds me of the middle-aged dissatisfied retail worker. She has too much a mind of her own to be content as a ladies maid, but isn’t daring enough to look for something else. Thomas is likewise too ambitious for contentment, but repeatedly fails to succeed at anything else. Add their lack of loyalty to the mix, and the only way for them to relieve monotony and keep their wits exercised is to both assert their superiority over those around them, and cause trouble wherever they can. Their treatment of others simply reflects their own self-hatred. Unfortunately, O’Brien has little to do in the latter part of DA2. Based on Thomas’ activities, I would love to see him become a sort of English Jett Rink in the future.

The question of whether Carson will accompany Lady Mary and Sir Richard in their future home is a nice inclusion. In fact, I increasingly love Carson. The subplot involving Ethel and Mrs. Hughes is tangential but although I can’t stand Ethel, I didn’t particularly mind it. I think it exists mainly to give Mrs. Hughes something to do, and to illustrate how difficult it was to keep good servants during wartime.

!End Spoilers!

As far as dialogue goes, I'm guessing a good part of it was quite banal throughout, but the actors sell it so well that, aside from the aforementioned two anachronistic expressions, I rarely noticed. Violet and Mary still have plenty of zingers to deliver. Those lines are Fellowes' personal brand of showstopper: the audience knows it's only a matter of time before an episode is graced with one, and nothing important better happen in the following 30 seconds or it will be drowned out in applause/laughter.

In case it’s not obvious, DA2 is nothing more than soap with the few bright spots of nice costumes, an occasional witty line, and superb acting. Others have pointed out the schmaltzier elements of DA1, such as the dead Turk, but that was a major character-defining moment for Mary, Anna, and Cora, and we can still feel the reverberations of that event in the most recent episodes. The same goes for Cora’s ill-fated pregnancy. Every development in series 2 is so crowded in that there’s no time for the characters to react naturally to them. This “Cut and paste guide to writing your own episode of Downton Abbey” is right on the mark. I don’t know if it was scheduling restraints that resulted in such shoddy plotting, or just because Fellowes just doesn’t have the knack for handling war and its repercussions with the elegance that he does the subtle details of household rituals and interaction. In either case, surely he didn't have to abandon his strengths entirely in favor of asinine character blunders and mechanical reactions to the most improbable of events!

Even though the show isn’t nearly the quality that it once was, I'm still rooting for the characters and I'm pleased that Fellowes at least didn’t trash them up. I was afraid this series would be terrible, so I had no expectations to disappoint. Now that it’s all over though, I find that my retroactive sense of “what could’ve been” is terribly disappointed. A multiple award-winning writer should know better than this. I’m still looking forward to both this year’s Christmas Special and hope Fellowes takes seriously the opportunity to redeem himself in DA3, but I sincerely hope it wraps up there.

In the meantime, I might as well give Lark Rise to Candleford another chance!

Adventures on Halloween

2011-11-03T17:00:00.001-05:00

I had one of the most bizarre dreams of my life early Halloween morning. I dreamed I was the King of France and that I got beheaded. It was not by guillotine as you might expect, though. I was standing in a nearly empty banquet hall with a couple other people, whom we all knew were waiting to be executed. The other two went first. There was an executioner holding a long sword, and he just whirled it around and popped off their heads one by one like he was Braveheart in the midst of a bloody battle. I remembered hearing in discussions of the Reign of Terror that a person’s head is conscious for a short span of time after being severed, and so I asked the two heads (a man and a woman) if it hurt. In their severed state, they nodded vigorously, eyes bugging. I thought, “Oh, darn. I don’t like pain. Good thing it’ll only be for a bit.” Then the executioner swiped off my head. All of a sudden I was on the ground, looking up at the room above me while it rocked slightly. Yeah, my head was still conscious. It didn’t hurt unbearably, just a little sting, although it was an odd sensation knowing a sword had just sliced through my neck. Kind of like when your tooth rubs a furry peach the wrong way (that’s worse than nails on a chalkboard to me, and why I prefer nectarines). On the floor, I wondered why my body wouldn’t just die already. I was tired of studying my sensations.

Suddenly the scene shifted to the afterlife. I was with a group of people wandering aimlessly in what looked like a sandy campground with cabins on short stilts. There were administrators who were supposed to tell us where to bunk, but we were all very disoriented and confused. We knew it was only a temporary stop before we “got where we were going”, and weren’t sure what to do with ourselves in the meantime. Some of the people clustered together were wearing Halloween costumes.

I’m sure that part was influenced by my reading C.S. Lewis’ depiction of purgatory, hell, and heaven in The Great Divorce, but isn’t it odd how something can turn up in your subconscious 10 years after you’ve read or experienced it?

The dream was over before I made it to heaven or hell. How disappointing.

It’s also odd how often in my dreams I’m male. It doesn’t happen all the time by any means, but if it’s a dream with an actual story and “me” is someone other than the conscious “Janeheiress”, it’s not unheard of that I’m a man. Don’t worry, I’m far from suffering any gender identity confusion. I think it has more to do with the fact that I’m a bit of a control freak (not an extreme one, but it’s something I’m having to come to terms with in my “old age”), and women in my nightmarish-like dreams are always weak, scared, or running. Maybe it’s a reflection on how I perceive women in general--or my jumbled subconscious dissemination of how society depicts them. Or maybe it was just because I had dressed as Charlie Chaplin three days earlier for a Halloween party. One thing is for sure, I would much rather be a generic “King of France” than a Marie Antionette!

On another note, some coworkers and I celebrated Halloween Monday evening by eating pizza and pumpkin bread, drinking green “slime” smoothies, and laughing our way through Vincent Price’s The House on Haunted Hill. Our two hosts were dressed as a plague victim (=ghost) and a plague doctor. The plague doctor costume was so creepy that he scared some trick-or-treaters. We had a good laugh in the kitchen over their squeaks and gasps at the doorstep. If you don’t know what a plague doctor looks like, look it up. Seriously. And be grateful how far medicine has come, even if it is still far from perfect.

Sometimes I get excited about books

2011-11-01T18:35:00.009-05:00

You would never suspect it, would you? Actually, here I'm specifically referring to upcoming releases. It's only rarely that I anticipate them, because books are so much more of an investment than movies, and I'm a lot pickier about what I read. I also realize that if I got excited about every book that interested me I would risk going all Bradley Headstone and busting up my knuckles with pent up emotion before I had a chance to even read two of them (I'm already on the verge of it over the new Downton Abbey episodes I haven't watched yet--thank you, Julian Fellowes, for reminding me why I don't watch television shows).

Until the last couple of years, there was one author whose upcoming releases filled me with that frenzy of anticipation: J.K. Rowling. Now there are a few more. Although you won't see me at any midnight releases, I can't wait to see what happens in these two upcoming publications:

1. The Alloy of Law, by Brandon Sanderson (Nov. 8, 2011) - Mistborn was a closed trilogy (one reason why I loved it so much) in a well built world with a thoughtful plot and exhilaratingly awesome magic (the other reason). I'd heard that a standalone novel in that world was on it's way, but I didn't think much about it until today when I found out it takes place hundreds of years later in a steampunk-like society. Mistborn and steampunk--a match made in heaven. If nothing else, the cover would make me giddy.

If I could hazard a guess just based on the cover art, I'd say this one has a healthy dose of oater, as well (see that gun he's slinging? yeah, I did too!). Genre-mashing may be trendy, but there's a reason it works. What could be more exciting than the combination of two (or three) things you love into one?

A note on Sanderson's other work: I am not even tempted to touch The Way of Kings until at least 5 of that series have been published (I also won't read Patrick Rothfuss's Wise Man's Fear until closer to when the 3rd book is coming out).

2. Shadows in Flight, by Orson Scott Card (Jan. 17, 2012) - His other books are hit or miss, but I will read almost everything I can about the futuristic world of Ender and Bean. Shadows in Flight is a direct sequel to Shadow of the Giant, the 4th Bean book. Originally it was supposed to tie the two series together (being a sequel to Children of the Mind, as well), but I found out today that Card has actually split the story into two books, the other one being Shadows Alive. The jury is out on when that one will be published, so we'll have to wait longer for the two series to converge again, and Ender's and Bean's children have to wait another spell until they finally meet in the far reaches of the universe!

3. A couple of books that can only be speculated on - I would love for Megan Whalen Turner to write another Thief of Eddis book. The Conspiracy of Kings, while offering a nice conclusion to Turner's tripartite political dilemma, left a few story threads open for extension. In fact, considering the volcanic vision a certain character has, I would be very surprised if Turner isn't planning another sequel. She is a graceful writer, and I'm intrigued by her point-of-view shifts. I would love to read another one. Sherwood Smith, on the other hand, will be in danger of getting a brick thrown through her window (...figuratively...on the internet. like maybe a courteous plea on her Goodreads page) if she doesn't write a third Dobrenica book. Although the main arc introduced in Coronets & Steel was resolved in Blood Spirits, that story just can't be over yet. Dobrenica feels so real that I want to buy a Eurail ticket there. It deserves another volume, if not more.

4. More unannounced books - Two more authors whose future books I will be in line to read are Susanna Clarke (Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell) and Diane Setterfield (The Thirteenth Tale). These are not because I'm waiting for sequels, but because I so adore how these two authors write that I believe I would read anything they publish.

What books are you waiting for?

Sugar-Free Living

2011-10-25T11:52:00.006-05:00

I have one of the most extreme sweet tooths of anyone I've met. Not once have I gotten sick from eating too much Halloween candy, and I can pack a lot of it at once if I feel like it. I've tried cutting out sweets from my diet before, but was never able to make it longer than a week or two. Otherwise, I do my best to eat relatively healthy. I rarely eat fast food (I rarely eat out at all, for that matter) or drink sodas. I avoid high-fructose cornsyrup like the plague. I drink green smoothies almost every morning and try to work other vegetables into my meals. But what concerns me is that I feel deprived if I don't have some kind of treat at the end of every day. There are many serious addictions that get more societal attention, but I believe a large piece of America is addicted to sugar and that type 2 diabetes is on its way to becoming an epidemic.

So when a couple of my health conscious friends decided to sign an actual contract to not eat sugary foods--and not for a month, but for the rest of the semester--I was so there. There are a few things about this arrangement that makes it easier to take seriously than my former attempts:

1) Motivation to keep a resolution is stronger when you have other people to answer to
2) Signing a contract makes it feel more official
3) 2 and a half months is an easier resolution to keep than 1 month, because you realize that it's an actual lifestyle change, not just a "I can hold out 3 more weeks" goal, and because the game isn't up if you slip up a bit.

Goodbye, sugar!

image source: http://blog.world-mysteries.com/science/the-sugar-conspiracy/

The contract also includes fried foods, but that's no sacrifice for me. I've never been much of a fan, and I got enough fried foods at the fair last month to last me the next year. One more side of the contract is that we get one day of choice off from sugar abstinence. The obvious choice for me is Thanksgiving. There's no way I'm missing out on my pie! And I don't know about Katie and Olivia, but I'll be considering that a 24 hour period so I can have me another slice at breakfast the next day.

My ultimate goal with this exercise in diet control is not to lose weight, or just say that I did it, but to break my sugar addiction. I want to be able to look at a table of sweets and not say, "Sweets! Need some now!" but "Is this something whose taste and texture will feel extra delectable on my tongue?" Because all sweets are not made equal. I could easily pass on the fake scones and sweet breads we are served at work every time a candidate comes in to present for their job interview, or the hard, oily cookies everyone grabs at the store just because they feel they have to bring refreshments to a social event. And especially those nasty sugar cookies with the pink or white frosting on top. Not to mention the opened bag of chocolate chips in my cupboard, waiting to have a handful or two poured out into my hand every evening.

In some ways, the moderation following abstinence will be the real test. One thing is for sure, though. I'm still collecting hoards of recipes on Pinterest, and I'll be sparing no expense to make them come Christmastime. The nice thing is that many of these are healthier alternatives to traditional sweets. They may have sugar, but smaller amounts of it, and fewer nutrition-less ingredients. I've recently discovered Chocolate Covered Katie and Gina's Skinny Recipes, and can't wait to try some of their concoctions.

In the meantime, my friends and I are in a learning process. We often have to discuss what is acceptable and what is not, as evidenced by a homemade smoothie adventure which included flavor packets of "all natural ingredients" (the food industry's biggest lie). It is definitely making us aware of how much sugar is in things we otherwise wouldn't even think about. I tend to draw the line at "if it's sweet and it's not fresh fruit, don't eat". But we're not so strict when it comes to small amounts of honey, or when our friend comes back from Belgium bearing a gifts of Biscoff Spread, "Europe's alternative to peanut butter".

The Grapes of Wrath in iColor

2011-10-18T11:30:00.020-05:00

It's strangely fitting that I'm reading a book about the Dust Bowl, considering what happened yesterday. It was a dusty, windy day, which is far from unusual where I live. Lately I've taken to carrying a scarf with me just so I can wrap it around my head, grandma style, to keep my hair from being destroyed while walking across campus for meetings. Outside in such weather, you must always wear sunglasses, and NEVER open your mouth. Also, try not to breathe too deeply or dust will go up your nose.

As I was driving off campus after work, I called my mom to discuss a paper she'd asked for help with. Concentrating on the discussion meant that I didn't notice much beyond the few feet of road in front of me. It wasn't until I stopped at an intersection that I looked out my side window and saw this:

Then I jerked my head forward and saw this:

My first thought was "Haboob! Haboob! Pictures!" and I had the presence of mind to articulate, "OH MY GOSH Mom, it's a HABOOB! Just a minute!" and then accidentally hung up on her. She had no idea what I was talking about.

Now, I've lived in West Texas for almost 4 years, and I've never seen anything like this. It looked like a mega-gargantuan tornado ready to engulf the entire city:

Less than two minutes after seeing it approach, I was driving through it:

This picture doesn't do it justice. It was more of a dark coffee color, visibility like midnight in a thick fog. The dust thinned out after a couple more minutes, but I passed two malfunctioning traffic lights during the remainder of the journey home. Debris blew all over the place. Never in my life have I been more grateful that I have a garage to park in.

For those who don't know, haboob is Arabic for "strong wind", and the weather term for an intense dust storm. Haboobs usually happen in the Middle East, but occasionally Arizona, New Mexico, and Texas will see them. Interestingly enough, the picture displayed on the Wikipedia entry is of a community not 15 minutes from where I live. But not only have I never seen a dust storm this intense, no one else I know has either. It's been reported that this is the worse haboob West Texas has seen since the Dust Bowl of the 1930s.

Stratford, TX, 1935 (Image from Wikipedia.org)

Winds were up to 70mph, windows broke, roofs were stripped of shingles, a small (parked) plane was overturned at the airport, and an airliner now sits on its rear-end, nose pointing to the sky. My crafty-minded friends lost all their outdoor decorations. One of my friends said that the haboob stole her Halloween mat, but left her a baseball bat for her to find in the yard last night!

Who said West Texas is a boring place to live? I'll be continuing Steinbeck with fresh vigor this week.

Oh my....Pig!

2011-10-17T12:59:00.010-05:00

The Grapes of Wrath has been on my Long Reading List for a while, but wasn't in my mental short-term queue until a couple of weeks ago when I read this blog post by Ursula K. Le Guin about "The Great American Novel". So two days ago when I was ready to delve into another novel after an interlude of non-fiction, I stared at my shelf, debating between Bleak House, The Brothers Karamazov, Cordelia's Honor, A Canticle for Leibowitz, Declare, and My Antonia. I couldn't imagine getting past page five of anything (even though I'm fairly certain I will love them all once I get to them), until I dug Steinbeck's masterpiece out of a box shoved under the bed.

It's been happy reading ever since. That is, until today when I came across Tom Joad's observation, "If Ma was anywheres about, that gate'd be shut an' hooked. That's one thing she always done--seen that gate was shut....Ever since the pig got in over the Jacobs' an' et the baby."

What the--!?!! Did I read that wrong? No. Apparently, I didn't. But surely he can't mean a...human baby. The thought was so horrifying I had to Google it for any confirming or debunking opinions. I found this post: The Pig Ate The Baby!

When I came to that part of the book, I expressed my shock by, well, screaming. “Oh my G--, the pig ate the baby!”

To which all of the boys responded by screaming back, “What page are you on? What page!”

It was pandemonium. The teacher next door—a coach–burst in to demand what the heck was going on. I kept repeating, “The pig ate the baby! The pig ate the baby!” As usual, our teacher didn’t speak, but the coach zeroed in that I was the troublemaker. He pointed at me and said, “Go see the nurse.”

The fact that Steinbeck had a pig eat a baby seemed slightly less horrible after reading such a funny account of it. But seriously, it's even worse than when the Compys (Procompsognathus) ate the baby in Jurassic Park!

October Life Update

2011-10-07T13:31:00.003-05:00

1. My brother got married!!! As he is about the most wonderful brother any girl could ask for, and he found someone he wanted to spend eternity with who also loves him enough to want to spend it with him, I am so happy. He was so patient and so kind to me during an (unprecedented) breakdown the night before his wedding (mostly because I was upset about keeping him up), following an explosion involving more persons than me, it brings tears to my eyes just thinking about it. And all the festivities, despite Friday morning traffic slowing everyone down on the way to the Temple, were beautiful.

2. My nephews are adorable! I love them so much. Especially two-year old Neil when he says “psychogenic non-epileptic paroxysm”, William when he calls me random vegetables, and Curtis when he stops mid-crawl to pose for the camera. It was wonderful to have the whole family together, including my awesome uncle and aunt, who I haven’t seen in a few years.

3. I finished Blood Spirits, sequel to Coronets & Steel, and liked it even more than it's predecessor. The characters take better shape, the suspense is better, and we get to see the fruits of the meticulous research and thought that Smith has put into the creation of Dobrenica. The culture and history, infused with mythology and magic are fascinating and endearing. I love how complete it all feels, although sometimes the attention to detail made me want to skim. Kim is still a fabulously kick-butt heroine--or should I say "madeuffween"--both physically and mentally. I really hope there will be another sequel!

4. Other than the above, I've been on a hiatus from fiction reading, focusing instead on research for my book. I'm also forming a writing group with a few other girls! It'll be nice to take that plunge to share my writing with people I trust, not to mention having the motivation to produce.

5. I’ve been really on edge the past couple of months without even realizing it. I do my best to avoid stress than can be avoided by fixing tangible things. But in a social life there are no easy fixes. Most of my girl friends are very busy for a variety of reasons now that the fall semester has started, so they’re no longer a constant. That’s a good thing, though. I hate feeling clickish, and we were coming to rely on each other’s company too much. Most of my guy friends have moved, and guy friends are harder for me to make than girl friends. There’s been a new influx of people in my ward, and a big turnover always rocks my world. I’m typically not a social instigator, and that’s crippling (I can think of few things more stressful than setting up an event, being afraid the wrong combination of people will come and it will bomb, with me being unable to save it because I'm not the 'life of the party' kind of person). Being comfortable around people I don’t know very well and don’t immediately find something in common with has never been my strong point. I realized recently that I don’t trust people not to judge me as a weirdo because I express things differently, or don’t intuitively pick up certain social cues. I’ll have to think about how to get past that one...

6. You know how I realized I was stressed? I have no desire to do housework. My room is a mess, I haven’t done the dishes in a week, and my mail is all over the coffee table. I haven’t even paid the electric bill yet!

7. Sometimes the squishy desk ball isn't enough. You really want to smash the computer, even knowing the computer isn't the problem. The software is the problem. You could complain to the company, but the response will be that it's a known issue and they're n̶o̶t̶ working on it. You go to the greatest time and lengths to work around the problem, wishing you could just squish the software to death. How exactly do you destroy software? (thoughts of mass destruction of a company's network of computers, servers, internet servers carrying data referring to them blah blah blah, along with those of the software's entire user community) The solution to such thoughts: sleep more.

8. I’ve gotten a lot of sleep this week, possibly more than in any given week over the past 2 years. It feels wonderful!

9. I just canceled my Netflix account. Their respect for customers is abysmal. Interestingly, it isn't because they split the two services (although that was a blow). The last straw is that you can't "save" titles on your instant queue that aren't currently available. Meaning that if you're interested in watching something, you have to maintain a list elsewhere and keep checking back to see if it's available. I won't even go into the complications that has caused for users nearing 500 in their queue. Talk about user unfriendliness. Good thing I'm sick of movies, anyway!

Food for the Gods

2011-10-04T16:28:00.010-05:00

I recently started blog stalking my good friend's sister. I’ve at least met this person a couple of times, but it’s still a little creepy. I mean, her posts are so funny that I keep wanting to quote her on Facebook! That’s scary, although how can you resist such gems as “Nobody knows the Truffles I’ve seen” and "even faces are better with butter on them." My go-to people for humor coaching in the written word has grown to a list of two: P.G. Wodehouse and glarcy.blogspot.com.

But Glarcy has inspired me in more ways than one. One of her posts lists “Food of the Gods”. You know I love making lists. They’re just usually of the literary or cinematic type. It’s time for a different kind of list. Here are 10 foods that I feel should be food groups. Or maybe the 10 foods that belong in the 5th food group, “Food for the Gods”.

10. Pumpkin. If there's a god for each season, surely pumpkin has to be the food of choice for the autumn god. I've seen ever so many recipes for pumpkin flavored treats in the past month. Pumpkin cupcakes, pumpkin trifle, pumpkin cheesecake, even a pumpkin shaped cake (two bundts, one upside down under the other). And of course, there's the evergreen (orange?) pumpkin pie. Apple comes in at a close 2nd, but pumpkin is my favorite flavor of pie. What is it about cloves and cinnamon that makes it taste so good? Maybe this fall I'll find out.

9. Spinach. I know what you're thinking:

But reflect. I don't like eating greens salads all the time either, but spinach is in so many delectable dishes. By sheer nutritional sneakiness it has become a staple ingredient in MANICOTTI, CHEESY ARTICHOKE DIP, and lately GREEN SMOOTHIES, which are my new love. Green never tasted so good. Spinach has almost no flavor when ground up or chopped in little pieces and mixed with other things that taste good. So if spinach is a secondary ingredient in a dish, it's probably because the chef thought, "This concoction is so good that all it needs is health injected in its densest form. What can we use? Spinach, of course!"

8. Yogurt. Yogurt is the non-desserty dessert. You can have it for breakfast, a snack, after dinner, and it always feels like a treat. The way it sticks to the stomach satisfies in a way that nothing else will. And it comes in oh, so many flavors. And Activia is oh, so kind to my digestive organs. Until I switched to green smoothies, a homemade yogurt parfait was my frequent breakfast of choice.

(Mine never looked this pretty, though)

7. Avocado. This may be the fattiest fruit (mostly monounsaturated, and it has so many other healthy nutrients), but it's uniquely smooth and creamy and delicious. An avocado is wonderful by itself (or with salt sprinkled on), but adding a few slices to a good sandwich will transform it into amazing. Avocado is also a superb addition to salads and sushi, and guacamole is the best thing that ever happened to the tortilla chip.

6. Eggs. scrambled, deviled, poached, boiled, sunny-side-up, omelet. How are there so many satisfying and simple ways to prepare one food? "When I was a lad I [didn't] eat four dozen eggs every morning to help me get large", but I sure do eat them once almost every week (one of the few high cholesterol foods I refuse to cut out of my diet) when I want a fast and filling dinner. Eggs are also indispensable in baked goods which, although too complex and varied to feature here, should be part of every supreme being's diet.

5. Cherries. As I stated long ago, cherries are the best medicine. I think that post says it all. Cherries are not only one of the best tasting fruits, but their tart sweetness always feels good going down a sore throat. And they're every so pretty. They may not have the same aesthetic effect as a bundle of grapes in the hands of a Greek deity, but everything else about them is superior. The only rival is a ripe nectarine, but those are almost better to smell than to devour.

4. Shrimp. Shrimp is something you either love or hate. It's is my favorite seafood, quite possibly my favorite meat product. Shrimp may be bottom feeders, but do they taste good! They absorb other flavors so well. My usual is garlic and lemon pepper before tossing it on a salad. Or in one of my favorite homemade meals of all time, Chipotle Shrimp Tostada. But it's oh, so good with the peanutty flavor of Pad Thai, or hibachi fried rice. I love shrimp so much that prawns are even better! The one time I had prawns (at a Vietnamese restaurant), I was heating the leftovers in the kitchen when my friend started dry heaving. I had to eat in the other room so as not to overstimulate her gag reflex. See, a dish with a scent too strong for mere mortals to handle can't be anything but food for the gods.

3. Truffles. We're not talking about the variety of fungus. I've never even had a mushroom truffle, and even wondered during those ignorant years of watching TaleSpin, how a pig was able to sniff out what looked like muffins growing in the ground (I'm not the only one).

That too, was before I was introduced to Chocolate Truffles. Lindor truffles, Oreo truffles, cookie dough truffles! All promising a creamy, chocolaty experience of the richest kind. In real bite size, unlike those small chocolates that only cover your tongue in a flat layer instead of filling your mouth with ambrosial sweetness--a slight brittleness followed by a texture (or lack of?) so smooth it feels too holy to be in your mouth...yeah, that would be buttercream. My specialty is the Oreo truffles which may not quite have the texture of divinity, but the virtue of being really easy to make.

Speaking of Lindor, I totally see the resemblance:

Can we say Death by Chocolate?

2. Mozzarella. I come from a stock of cheese fiends, although the variety available at my house growing up didn't extend much beyond cheddar. A fifth helping of cheddar dolloped on top of whatever meal my mom tried to make healthy was often dreamed of, and it felt like Christmas every time she would bring home one of those 5lb. blocks from Sam's Club. This was all before I visited the magical land of Italia. The very first week there, I was introduced to what I now know as Insalata Caprese.
A slice of flavorful tomato atop a slab of quality mozzarella (sold as fist-sized ball of spongy texture, stored in water, the best of which comes from Italian Water Buffaloes), along with basil, salt, pepper, and olive oil. A pitch-perfect harmonization of flavors and textures, this is food for the gods if nothing else is. Lately, I've been experimenting with different formats of Caprese Salad, including this mini-skewered version:

The discovery of mozzarella pearls rocked my culinary world almost as much as Caprese Salad. I found that my el-Cheapo grocery even sells a less expensive (and lesser quality, but we can't have everything) ball of pearls, and I now use them all the time in a mozzarella, tomato, and avocado salad. You can also get a less pricey version of the full ball, but it's shrink wrapped instead of in water, and the flavor has a hint of string cheese to it.

1. Nutella. Need I say more?
I didn't think so. I'll just refer you to the Nutella-containing recipes I've collected over the past few months, although I feel perfectly supreme just eating it by the spoonful.

Nutella Fudge:

Nutella Meringues:

Banana, Nutella, Cream Cheese Cake:

I have actually made this last one, and it was possibly the richest dessert I've had in my life. The others will have to wait until my sugar fast ends on December 15th.

Atmosphere in Movies

2011-09-14T22:27:00.004-05:00

I’ve been in kind of a strange mood lately (which I hope I'm leaving behind), so now seems like a good time to post about moody entertainment. I love atmospheric books and films. This is why I think Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban is, in some ways, the most accomplished of the film series--John Williams’ music and Alfonso Cuaron’s visuals give it a mood that sets it apart from the others. This is why I enjoy M. Night Shyamalan’s films as dramas even when the notorious “twists” fall short. This is part of why I was so enthralled with Diane Setterfield’s spooky The Thirteenth Tale a few years ago, and why I adored every page of Neil Gaiman’s clever The Graveyard Book in June. Both of these books have elements of the horrific, but they are not horror stories. They aren’t even suspense. Those are the two genres that regularly call for a strong atmosphere, but the atmospheric tales I love are the ones outside outside horror and suspense that use it to evoke a certain mood. It would be difficult to make a list of books that have that quality because the timbre of such would be so diverse (and there are so many books epitomizing it that I’m sure I haven’t read). Movies may pose the same problem, but I’m going to take a stab at it anyway. As always, this is not in any way authoritative, only my favorites.

First I want to give a shout out to the films of Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger, who I recently discovered in a look at classic British cinema. Their films are in a class of their own, and once I finish watching a few more, I’ll write a post on them.

I’m obviously cutting out suspense films since the list would be miles long, otherwise. At any rate, I think stark darkness is overrated in film. These are mainly dramas. I’ll begin going backwards through literary adaptions, and then forwards again through the remaining five.

1. Jane Eyre, 2011, Cary Fukanaga - This film is the one that inspired the list. Several of Jane Eyre’s iconic scenes may have been edited out or truncated in this theatrical version (as in Pride & Prejudice 2005), but what is left is a superbly crafted mood piece. Jane Eyre has plenty of Gothic elements but, oddly enough, many of them were downplayed or cut out altogether. It’s Fukanaga’s unique touches that bring back the spirit of the novel, rather than rehashing what we’ve seen before. And I’ve never seen Jane and Rochester acted so well.

2. Pride & Prejudice, 2005, Joe Wright - As I’ve stated many times before, the 1995 miniseries is my favorite adaptation. But there is one area in which this theatrical version clearly trumps the earlier one, and that is in the atmosphere. Little matter that it may have different tone than that of Austen’s book, Joe Wright’s Pride & Prejudice has a reflective, lyrical atmosphere that makes it a beautiful piece of cinema. Dario Marianelli’s score has a lot to do with it (incidentally, he scored Jane Eyre, too!).

3. Sense & Sensibility, 1995, Ang Lee - This film has the same feel as a Vermeer painting: soft and serene, but with pools of repressed feeling that manifest themselves from just below the surface. The brilliant lighting, poetic screenplay, and superb acting are what pull this off. This film feels like a clear, crisp Sunday morning.

4. Random Harvest, 1942, Mervyn LeRoy - This film signifies the best of old Hollywood’s high romanticism--it's missing the cynical edge that many of the most acclaimed classics feature, but never descends into melodrama. The film takes us through a myriad of emotions, but from the opening moments when an amnesiac WWI veteran escapes the asylum keeping him, there is one consistent feeling: the elusiveness of lost memories. The mist of a dark night or on a train platform, the light through a church window as the organ plays a tune just outside of recollection, and other spooky camera work echo the impression, signifying the moments where our main character feels closest to remembering his past and yet farther away because he just can’t bring the memories back. (Honorable mention to Waterloo Bridge, another highly emotional LeRoy film starring Vivien Leigh, which curiously, is nearly unknown here in its land of origin, where it's been integrated into the culture of East Asia.)

5. Rebecca, 1940, Alfred Hitchcock - This may be a cheat because most would classify Rebecca as a suspense film by the virtue of it being directed by Hitchcock. But as I’ve pointed out before, Rebecca defies genre classification. It’s a drama whose mysterious atmosphere and hovering secrets cause it to bleed into suspense territory. The lighting, the camerawork and the music, along with the Gothic-leaning story and the character of Mrs. Danvers, are brilliant.

6. Days of Heaven, 1978, Terence Malick - Malick is a director with a creative vision beyond the stories he tells. Their purpose is to evoke the insignificance of man in the face of nature and time. Never is this more evident than in Days of Heaven, a film with barely any plot, whose drifter characters seem tossed to and fro with the seasons, depicted with some of the most amazing cinematography I’ve seen. The film was shot, almost in its entirety, during the magic hour (the first and last hour that the sun is up), giving the film a mesmerizing golden hue. Camille Saint-Saen’s “The Aquarium” works with the visuals, setting the tone for the film’s contemplation of the human will to survive and to love. I haven’t seen Malick’s acclaimed Tree of Life yet, but after watching Days of Heaven, I think I’m ready to appreciate his latest more than I did The New World.

7. Il Mare, 2000, Lee Hyun-seung - You may have heard of this story in its American interpretation, The Lake House. But the Korean original is a finer film in every way. What makes this rather vague story beautiful is the wistful, meditative mood, created by the mist filled air around the house on the sea and the melancholy musical score. It reflects the loneliness of the two main characters and the insurmountable distance not only between them temporally, but between each of them with other loved ones, as well. It reminds us as viewers that loneliness is unavoidable at certain stages of life, but that comfort can come from the most unlikely of places.

8. Spirited Away, 2001, Hayao Miyazaki - This is not my favorite Miyazaki film, as I usually like what I’m watching to make logical sense. But there’s such clean beauty amidst the weirdness that’s different from anything I’ve ever seen before. It’s like those times when you feel the world is spinning around you and you have no idea what will come of it, but an inner impression tells you to find a moment of tranquility and stretch yourself to search for what beauty you can see.

9. Amelie, 2001, Jean-Pierre Jeunet - This one may be the most upbeat piece on the list. It’s playful and quirky, but that never trumps the story’s warmth. The film’s magic is based entirely in the guarded heart of a young woman who just wants to make life a little better, and the surrealist feel of saturated colors, visual imagination, and carnivalesque music always makes my day a little better.

10. Pan’s Labyrinth, 2006, Guillermo del Toro - It’s been a while since I’ve seen this, but what I most remember is the delicate balance it walked between fairytale and horror. The 1940s period detail blends so seamlessly with the fantastical that, along with Ofelia, you don’t know which is her true reality. Likewise, the musical theme’s waltz time signature recalls a fairytale, but it’s melancholy tone grounds it in the brutal Fascist Spain.

In the case of the literary adaptations, I think the reason those films are memorable is precisely because they have that atmospheric creative vision external to the source material, making them a unique cinematic experience. In my mind, that's how to do an adaptation. Either that, or give it miniseries treatment and stick as closely to the source as possible.

The Help: Book and Film

2011-08-25T19:06:00.014-05:00

Kathryn Stockett's The Help is one of those books that's been popping up at book clubs all over the country for the last couple of years. I'd heard the title a number of times, but with no context it’s not very indicative of what the novel is about. As with any bestseller, I made darn sure I was going to love it before I invested any time in it. I finally checked it out earlier this year.

The Help is the funny, heartbreaking, and heartwarming tale of three women in 1960s Mississippi, two of whom, warm Aibileen Clark and sassy Minny Jackson, are best friends, work as domestic help in white households, and are African-American. The third is Skeeter Phelan, a new college graduate with a passion for journalism, who observes the culture she grew up in with fresh eyes and decides to write a book of interviews from the point of view of “the help”. In that cultural climate, all of the local maids are too scared and skeptical to be involved until Aibileen takes the first brave steps. Within this broad plot, the story follows the three women through their every day domestic experiences and relationships. While the telling of only one of these lives would only amount to a series of vignettes, their intersection and the difference it makes in their lives makes for a rich reading experience.

Aibileen works for Elizabeth Leefolt, one of Skeeter’s oldest friends, and in addition to the housework she basically raises the Leefolt’s neglected daughter, Mae Mobley. This brings up the issue of how so many white children in the south were raised by black maids and loved them like their own mothers, until they were old enough to be indoctrinated into a racist worldview. In addition, Aibileen is dealing with the grief of having lost her only son because of a white man's negligence.

Because of her back-talking, Minny is fired from her position by Hilly Holbrook, another one of Skeeter’s friends and a community leader. After being blacklisted in the community by Hilly, Minny finally finds a job with Celia Foote, the naive wife of Hilly’s ex. Minny and Celia’s relationship is by far the funniest thread in the story, but each of them have their own private struggles at home.

Even though her thread instigates the biggest plot point, Skeeter’s problems are lightweight compared to the other two. She rebels against her expected role--marry and have children, while secretly afraid no man would ever want her because she is tall, frizzy-haired, and intelligent. She strikes up a romance with a relative of Hilly’s, but the meat of her story is how her views and her character change while researching for her book.

The Help isn’t a deep story, and doesn’t make a statement beyond the obvious one of standing up for what’s right in dangerous times. I don't think Stockett was trying to say anything shockingly new in her tale, only to call attention to what life might have been like for the African-American maid who raised her. At its core The Help is just about women’s relationships, both interracial and intra-racial (the part that is less focused on, but equally important). Anyone can feel themselves imprisoned, expected to conform, to smother their own opinions and aspirations in the face of a Hilly Holbrook. Only for some, the risk is much much greater.

There’s been some pretty vocal backlash against the racial dynamics of the story, even more since the movie has been in production. Many people are tired of the “white person saves black people from their problems” stereotype. Everyone has issues they are sensitive to, and Orson Scott Card points out well in his review of X-men: First Class (the postscript about halfway down the page) how racial stereotypes that go over almost any white person's head can be offensive to others. I can understand some being sensitive to those issues and wanting to avoid this film, but from my perspective, even with a few cliches The Help is still a beautiful story.

The thing that impressed me the most when reading The Help was how Stockett so carefully created a unique voice and dialect for each of the three narrators. The book begins with a chapter from Aibileen’s point of view, then moves on to Skeeter and Minny. It was jarring the first few times the point of view shifted, but after that I felt like each time I was sitting down with a friend for a catch up chat. By the end, I felt very close to these women.

******************************

I deliberately didn’t raise my expectations for the film, since adaptations of current bestsellers are usually a letdown. And it could easily turn into one of those sentimental female bonding flicks like Steel Magnolias, Fried Green Tomatoes, etc. Those movies are fine, but they only inspire lukewarm interest in this viewer.

However, when I saw that Viola Davis, who got a best supporting actress nod for her explosive 5 minutes of screen time in Doubt, would be playing Aibileen, there was no way I was not going to see this. The positive reviews upon release confirmed it would be good. It didn’t disappoint!

The ‘60s period look is just perfect, and the film captures the same harmony of humor and drama that made the book so rewarding. I was afraid it would be an Emma Stone show, with Aibileen and Minny as side characters, but the balance is just right. Octavia Spencer and Emma Stone are great as Minny and Skeeter, as are Jessica Chastain as Celia, Bryce Dallas Howard as Hilly, and Sissy Spacek as Hilly's mother. But I'm with New York Magazine: The Help belongs to Viola Davis, who had me crying in the first 30 seconds of the film. Yes, you read that right--30 seconds. Aibileen is far and away my favorite character of the book, and it was a wise choice of the filmmakers to give the voice-over narration to her.

The film wisely downplays Skeeter’s romance with Stuart, which was, frankly, one of the flatter parts of the book. A few memorable scenes with Minny and Celia were also left out, but it didn't hurt the film much. I'm not one who expects an adaptation to recreate the entire experience of reading a book.

One thing that occurred to me as I watched the film is that the emotional distance between Aibileen and Skeeter never came across very effectively, in either book or film. Skeeter may not have seen that as an issue, but Aibileen’s fear of being honest with her didn’t register as strong as it could have. In fact, both Stockett and the filmmakers largely glossed over the grimness of Minny and Aibileen's lives. That's a flaw that's easy to forgive though, considering how lightweight the story is. There may be a few too many overly sentimental moments for me to want to watch all the time, but even the memory of this film makes me smile. It will definitely be in my top 5 films of the year.

Coronets and Steel, by Sherwood Smith

2011-08-21T12:56:00.005-05:00

I was getting ready to write a blog post on Sherwood Smith when on her website I came across the synopsis to one of her most recent books:

Kim's a grad student in L.A. Her passions are ballet, fencing, Jane Austen, and swashbuckling, romantic old movies. When her grandmother begs her to go east and see if "they" are safe, then slips into an uncommunicative silence, Kim goes to Vienna to search for a family, armed with only two clues. She's having no luck when she first runs into a ghost, and then encounters a guy she mentally dubs Mr. Darcy. Only this Mr. Darcy acts like he knows her. When she goes out for a drink and wakes up on a train, the adventure begins. This story began as an homage to Prisoner of Zenda, only with a female having to prove her courage, dash . . . and honor.

My reaction, as captured in that unfinished blog post: Oh. My. Cow, how have I never heard of this flabbergastingly amazing premise before? Jane Austen, fencing, and old movies?!!!?!??!?!?!?!? (I confess, I barely remember The Prisoner of Zenda, but I’m ready for another swashbuckler) I must get this book straight away.

I did get the book straight away--my local library, surprise surprise, actually has it!

Coronets and Steel...inspired by The Prisoner of Zenda, with elements of Crown Duel and The Princess Diaries, a hint of Brigadoon and a dash of To Catch a Thief (Is that proof enough of how complex the plot is?). Kim Murray, a California girl who speaks French and German fluently and is interested in all that other cool stuff listed in the synopsis, goes on a genealogical adventure in Vienna to find out the mystery of her grandmother’s early life.

I laughed out loud on every one of the first 30 or so pages, with a 17th century reenactor--or perhaps a ghost--appearing on the streets of Vienna, and consistent literary name dropping (which always gets me giddy). And then of course Darcy shows up and you can’t believe Kim doesn’t clue in that he’s about to kidnap her!

It’s best not to reveal too much of the plot, but it involves a fictional country in eastern Europe surrounded by very powerful myths--or magic, competing ruling families, political marriages, doppelgangers, secret passageways, a masquerade ball, and a lot more. There are a lot of Gothic elements but, oddly enough, the writing opts for style over atmosphere, making it--in Hitchcockian terms--more of a To Catch a Thief than a Rebecca (think Grace Kelly and Cary Grant zipping down a French Riviera country road in a convertible, hair blowing in the wind). The pacing is more casual than you would expect for this type of story and I found myself skimming through parts of the middle section, but Kim is a smart, tough heroine and fun to root for--especially when she pulls out a sword. Too bad that isn’t until nearly the end. To an extent I feel that Smith was too ambitious; the book would have been much more fluid had the plot been a simpler one. As one Goodreads reviewer says, “The complexities of the plot are fun, but not all of them are necessary (so far, anyway)”.

The “so far”, is because there is a sequel, Blood Spirits, coming out September 6th, and I have high hopes for it. I won’t wait for my library to get it, either.

I should also mention the love story. Our heroine and her hero banter, keep secrets from one another, then ultimately work together, but he always remains a distant figure and, even though Kim’s narration doesn’t brush over their attraction, any emotional connection never comes across very strong. However, I have enough confidence in Sherwood Smith to hope that their relationship will be more fleshed out in the sequel.

In short, Coronets and Steel has it’s flaws, but I’m on the verge of loving it anyway (the sequel will be the deciding factor). Sherwood Smith wanted this to be a different kind of urban fantasy, and it surely is. Another reviewer likened it to some of Mary Stewarts books. Having only read The Moon-Spinners, I can see the resemblance. One thing I know about Sherwood Smith is that she writes about what she loves, even when the target audience isn't very wide. I'm pretty sure I'm smack in the middle of the audience for this book, and I can’t wait to see how the story continues.

Lucy Maud Montgomery and 'The Story Girl'

2011-08-10T09:00:00.009-05:00

By the time she finished high school, my sister’s bookshelf held every single L.M. Montgomery book ever published. I never fell into the level of obsession she did--my interest in Anne of Green Gables waned after two or three books, and I felt Montgomery’s descriptions of nature were too frequent and too saccharine. Her heroes were often too little masculine, or altogether too vague. But where Montgomery is good she is very, very good, and when read with the sense of idealism you would approach a fairytale with, her books are delightful. I may not care for the later books in the series, but Anne of Green Gables will remain on my shelf waiting for a reread every few years. As will The Blue Castle, the romantic tale of a 29 year old “spinster” who decides to take her formerly depressing life into her own hands.

What makes Montgomery’s stories different from anything else I’ve ever read is how the pre-WWI pastoral Prince Edward Island serves not only as setting, but becomes integral to the characters, feeding their imaginative lives. Even if they are idealized the woods, orchards, and shadowed roads of her stories come to life because they are viewed through the ignorant and inexperienced, but vivid lens of childhood. Montgomery doesn’t write about complacent children, but high strung, ambitious, imaginative children. When she writes about adults, they are adults who never lost sight of that wide-eyed sense of romance; even when disillusioned, they’re still susceptible to it.

This focus may not always be realistic, but it is always engaging. And, like with all great stories, there are elements of truth in even the most implausible situations. Indeed, while Montgomery’s most common thread may be the isolation of orphanhood, her books also touch on spousal and child abuse, emotional manipulation, mental illness, and all varieties of death. In a conversation I had with my sister the other day, she mentioned that Montgomery’s publisher insisted that she keep her novels perfectly sanitized and child-appropriate for her established fan base. Perhaps that pressure is what kept her from exploring some of those more serious issues in more detail. It sure didn’t keep the content of her short stories in line though; their subject matter is all over the place.

Reportedly, Montgomery never felt she had achieved her one “great” book (the aforementioned pressure from her publisher may have had something to do with it). Even though I wouldn’t consider any one of her books to be a paragon of literary achievement either, many of her characters certainly are. Mark Twain called Montgomery’s Anne “the dearest and most moving and delightful child since the immortal Alice”. That’s what makes the difference to a reader between admiration and love. Anne Shirley has been beloved by how many millions of readers over the last 100 years? There is no doubt that Montgomery left her stamp on the hearts of those who read to love, even if she is glossed over in discussions of the western literary canon.

The book, or two books, that ensure L.M. Montgomery a unique place in my heart though, are The Story Girl and its sequel, The Golden Road. Both novels are narrated in first person by Beverly King who, at 13, is sent with his brother Felix to stay several months with their aunt and uncle on the King family farm. Bev and Felix are first introduced to the cousins they are to live with--beautiful but vain Felicity, sweet and timid Cecily, and uncouth, skeptical Dan. They know less about Sara Stanley, the titular Story Girl, another cousin who lives on an adjoining farm with other relatives. Sara has a voice that brings the imaginary to life, and it’s largely her stories and unconventional perspective that enliven their summer. Joined by Peter Craig, their uncle’s hired boy, and Sara Ray, a neighbor from the bottom of the hill, there’s enough personality in the group to carry us smiling though any number of escapades, good and bad. My personal favorites are the time when they bought God’s picture, the dreaming adventures and, of course, the chapters about Our Magazine (it’s always been my secret disappointment that I didn’t have a group of friends to be so creative with as a kid)--especially “The Battle of the Partridge Eggs”.

The dynamics between the kids are pitch perfect--they may have boundless good times, but those times are all tempered by discord. Dan and Felicity squabble; there’s an unspoken rivalry between the Story Girl and Felicity; and the group’s acceptance of Peter and Sara Ray, with his place as a hired boy and her chronic crying spells, is tenuous. It wouldn’t be the same with any one of them missing, though. The Story Girl supplies plenty of stories, of course, and they are wonderful (Montgomery wisely keeps most of them short and to the point, so as not to overwhelm the book), but it’s the characters’ reactions to them that make them that much more entertaining. Montgomery has an unbeatable gift for writing dialogue unique to the character whose mouth it comes out of.

As new teenagers, the boys may seem exceptionally well behaved and tolerant of female company (perhaps another flaw in Montgomery’s male characterization), but it’s also possible that this different time and place allowed them to keep their innocence longer. It’s that innocence coupled with the knowledge of what changes will occur, what suffering is undoubtedly on its way, that makes the ending of their story so painful. Even as family, at parting the cousins know it will be years before they see each other again. Their shared experiences are over irrevocably, to live only in their memories.

Even in this idealized tale of late childhood, Montgomery tells the truth about pastoral, small town life. We see hypocrisy, class consciousness in the terms of “good family”, overconsideration for appearances, and most often spiritual ignorance: the kids repeatedly try to make sense of certain ideals without understanding the principles behind them--only that it’s the way things are done. I won’t go into specifics, but they usually end quite comically, such as this situation with a sick cat and the local “witch”.

"Pat's better," cried the Story Girl, blithe, triumphant. "Last night, just at twelve, he began to lick his paws. Then he licked himself all over and went to sleep, too, on the sofa. When I woke Pat was washing his face, and he has taken a whole saucerful of milk. Oh, isn't it splendid?"

"You see Peg Bowen did put a spell on him," said Peter, "and then she took it off."

"I guess Cecily's prayer had more to do with Pat's getting better than Peg Bowen," said Felicity. "She prayed for Pat over and over again. That is why he's better."

"Oh, all right," said Peter, "but I'd advise Pat not to scratch Peg Bowen again, that's all."

"I wish I knew whether it was the praying or Peg Bowen that cured Pat," said Felix in perplexity.

"I don't believe it was either of them," said Dan. "Pat just got sick and got better again of his own accord."

"I'm going to believe that it was the praying," said Cecily decidedly. "It's so much nicer to believe that God cured Pat than that Peg Bowen did."

"But you oughtn't to believe a thing just 'cause it would be more comfortable," objected Peter. "Mind you, I ain't saying God couldn't cure Pat. But nothing and nobody can't ever make me believe that Peg Bowen wasn't at the bottom of it all."

Thus faith, superstition, and incredulity strove together amongst us, as in all history.

--The Story Girl, Chapter 24

Most of our characters fall visibly on the spectrum between small town conventionality, even narrow mindedness, and the liberated imagination of an eccentric, but perhaps less responsible mind. The two extremes are Felicity and the Story Girl, respectively. Living in West Texas after growing up in a culturally liberal metropolitan area (at least in comparison), I completely identify with the Story Girl when Felicity chides her for her wild notions.

"When weeds go to heaven I suppose they will be flowers," continued the Story Girl.
"You do think such queer things," said Felicity.

--The Story Girl, Chapter 6

Translate Felicity’s terminology to “random”, “nerdy”, or “you’re such a weirdo”, and that’s the conclusion of many a conversation I’ve had with my own friends.

The structure of The Story Girl is pretty episodic, making it the kind of book you don’t read in one sitting, even if you can’t wait to pick it up each time. The Golden Road is slightly less so--it takes on a more serious tone as the children see change and growing up on the horizon. Unfortunately, Montgomery also lets some of her sappiness take over in a few places which, when unrestrained, is more than I can handle. I am not kidding when I say that occasionally she just loses it and lets her male characters go all fruity, speaking of garden pixies or the moodiness of a forest brook. Mental note: never read Chapter 28, “The Path to Arcady” ever again. It adds nothing to the story, and Uncle Blair's personality is well established without his descending into overtures about nature, most regretfully even rubbing off on Bev. Aside from that chapter, the sap is more or less contained. This and the melancholic apprehension leading up to the conclusion must be what keep me from remembering The Golden Road as fondly as its predecessor, despite the Our Magazine chapters. Nevertheless, for the most part it’s as delightful as the first book, and the journey of the King cousins and friends would be incomplete without it.

Note: The Story Girl and The Golden Road are usually seen in a single volume entitled Days of Dreams and Laughter, along with the short novel Kilmeny of the Orchard. Don’t bother with that last one unless you're in the mood for an unbearably sappy, far-fetched romance--it may be Montgomery's worst novel.

Great Film Entrances

2011-08-04T17:00:00.005-05:00

Most cinematic characters make a nonchalant, natural entrance into their tale, or rather the camera makes an unobtrusive entrance into their life. If not, the film usually feels cliche or pretentious. Occasionally though, there’s that special character that whose appearance makes you sit back and think, “wow”. There’s something iconic or delightfully stylistic about their entrance. They are presented in a way that gives us essential information about who the character is or how we’re supposed to feel about them, and succeeds in initiating that response. I’m not saying these are the most iconic characters of all time--although a few of them are--but their entrances are what define them. Think of Marilyn Monroe's "jello on springs" entrance in Some Like it Hot, or Peter Fonda’s uncharacteristically icy blue eyes just before he shoots a defenseless child in Once Upon a Time in the West. Barbara Stanwycke appearing at the top of some stairs wearing nothing but a cheap blond wig and a towel in Double Indemnity. Superhero movies and Bollywood movies have these in spades, but because they’re typical and overly pulpy, they’re not as memorable. I also don’t go for horror or the grotesque, so a certain alien--and any number of similar characters I undoubtedly don’t even know about--will not appear.

So here are my favorite screen entrances!

12. Lisa Fremont in Rear Window 1954 (Grace Kelly) - Jimmy Stewart is asleep in his chair, bound by a full leg cast, and a moving shadow creeps over his face. He opens his eyes and sees...~~screen goddess~~ Grace Kelly moving in for a kiss. Only Hitchcock could’ve conceived this entrance so well.

11. Oz in The Wizard of Oz 1939 (Frank Morgan) - “oh, I AM THE GREAT AND POWERFUL, wizard of Oz.” That single sentence says so much about who the wizard is expected to be, and who he really is. I love the transition between anger and despair, to humor.

10. Mrs. Danvers in Rebecca 1940 (Judith Anderson) - From the moment Mrs. Danvers, the housekeeper, walks onto the screen with her severe black getup, her expressionless face barely concealing what we know must be hatred for our timid little Mrs. DeWinter, it’s obvious there’s going to be trouble. Every move of hers in this scene and following, are meant to undermine her new mistress. It’s easy to see from this entrance why Mrs. Danvers is one of the most iconic villains of all time.

9. James Bond in Dr. No 1962 (Sean Connery) - Even this non-James Bond fan has gotta admit that this is one heck of an entrance. I love how you see just his hands playing poker, until Sean Connery’s deep voice and nonchalant expression appear, simultaneously introducing him.

8. Isabeau d’Anjou in Ladyhawke 1985 (Michelle Pfeiffer) - Almost 30 minutes into this film, the pickpocket Phillipe is terrified by the appearance of a murderous black wolf, only to be stopped from shooting it by the last person he would expect to see--a mystery woman of such ethereal beauty that he believes he’s dreaming. With her dusky blue eyes, pale as porcelain complexion, and the black cloak covering all but her face, it's easy to see why practically every man in the film is in love with her.

7. Indiana Jones in Raiders of the Lost Ark 1981 (Harrison Ford) - A group of adventurers are led through the jungle by a man we only see the backside of. Then we see the map, the dark silhouette of the hat on his head, we see the whip lashed out to stop a an unnamed traitor from shooting a gun, then we finally see Harrison Ford’s face. All you need to know about Indiana Jones in ten seconds.

6. Gilda in Gilda 1946 (Rita Hayworth) - When a crooked casino owner introduces his new gambler friend to his young wife, audiences in 1946 went insane over the tantalizing way she flips her hair over her bare shoulders. Gilda isn’t a great film but it’s remembered for Rita Hayworth’s iconic femme fatale, epitomized by this scene.

5. Sherif Ali in Lawrence of Arabia 1962 (Omar Sharif) - Well, this is one of the greatest films of all time, and it’s scenes like this that make it so. Omar Sharif’s entrance couldn’t be done in today’s cinematic climate because pacing expectations have changed so much. Lawrence and his guide, resting at a well in the desert, spot someone on the distant horizon. They wait to see whether he’s a friend or enemy. They wait, and wait as the dot grows larger and larger until the guide, knowing he will be killed for drinking out of another tribe’s well, runs for his gun--and gets shot before he can make a move. Thus, Lawrence and Sherif Ali don’t start off on the right foot, but grow to have one of the greatest friendships in cinema.

4. Maria in The Sound of Music 1965 (Julie Andrews)
We sail over the Australian alps, to the foothills, and find a young woman in a nun’s habit, so moved by the landscape that she throws her arms wide and bursts into song. That is all you need to know about Maria--impulsive, expressive, with a disregard for the rules. And you know it’s going to be a delightful three hours in her company. Everyone knows this one, so it’s okay that I couldn’t find a video clip.

3. Jack Sparrow in Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl 2003 (Johnny Depp) - This is the entrance that inspired this post. I knew from the first time I saw Pirates that this was one of the great entrances. After being introduced to the unspoken puppy love of Will Turner and Elizabeth Swan, the music swells into a heroic manifesto as we see Jack Sparrow sailing to port atop the mast of a ship, wind blowing his dreaded hair, a determined look on his face--until the camera pulls back and we see that it’s no ship at all, but a little sailboat, and a sinking one at that! That’s Jack Sparrow--perpetually at the end of his rope, but with the wit and luck to make it out of every situation and retain his ego.

2. T-Rex in Jurassic Park 1993 - My #1 female entrance. A thump loud as thunder sounds in the distance, pulsing the water in two drinking glasses sitting in the still vehicles. Breathing gets quicker, eyes get wide, then suddenly there's dismembered piece of goat on the top of the car, the the fence breaks down like guitar strings, the T-Rex emerges, and roars. Unlike the velociraptor, the previously lesser known dinosaur, whose surprise entrance is foreshadowed by a description of it’s hunting technique, the T-Rex needed a grand entrance to match her reputation among pre-historic creatures. The characters’ fear here is palpable; it still makes my heart thump almost 20 years after I first saw the film.

1. Harry Lime in The Third Man 1949 (Orson Welles) - Harry Lime is supposed to be dead. His friend, who just arrived in Vienna to work for Harry, suspects something fishy, and is determined to find out what happened to his friend. As he loiters in the street, a cat runs up to a darkened doorstep and won’t leave the barely visible legs of a man hiding there. The owner of the house can’t abide the ruckus and flips on a light upstairs, exposing Harry’s--very much alive--face. He smiles, mockingly amused, but before his friend can recover from the shock, the light is off and Harry has disappeared, leaving only the echo of his running footsteps. Orson Welles failed to catch my sympathy with Citizen Kane, but if you want to know what a great actor he is, check out The Third Man. Welles does wonders with his mere 10 minutes of screen time, beginning with this entrance.

Honorable Mention goes to:
Darth Vader in Star Wars; Mufasa in The Lion King; Hans Beckert (Peter Lorre) in M; Willy Wonka (Gene Wilder) in Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory; and Cyd Charisse in Singin’ in the Rain

Do you have any favorite film entrances?

The Queen's Thief series, by Megan Whalen Turner

2011-07-28T12:36:00.014-05:00

As avowedly anti-series as I am, sometimes I find one that tickles my fancy just enough that I read the entire lineup one after another. Megan Whalen Turner’s series is just such a one. This type of series I do appreciate--the kind where each book is unique, not solely existing to continue a story that the author ran out of pages to tell in one volume.

Turner’s world is inspired by historical Greece, complete with a pantheon of gods (Turner’s unique deities), but with more of a Byzantine flavor than a classical one. There are rifles, glass and pocket watches, for example. The tales concern Sounis, Eddis, and Attolia, three small peninsular countries who are at odds with each other, but must ultimately agree to work together to avoid invasion by another, larger nation. Our main character is the cocky, diarrhea-mouthed thief Eugenides, or Gen, who claims he can steal anything.

Here’s a rundown of the series so far:

The Thief (1996, a Newbery Honor Book) - Fantasy novels are by no means a staple of the Newbery Award, so the winners and honors are always worth a look. The Thief begins with the imprisoned Gen getting an offer from the King of Sounis' Magus--help him steal an important artifact from the neighboring Attolia, or rot in prison. Gen reluctantly accompanies the Magus and three other men on the journey to find this unknown artifact. Only gradually are the details of their mission revealed, along with a few surprises about the characters themselves. I have to be honest, I wasn’t sold by this book (although I’m sure I will love it if I reread it). It was interesting enough after a somewhat slow start, but in a 200 page book that doesn’t leave much time to build into anything awe-inspiring. Gen’s narration is in first person, and rather than being intrigued by his obvious withholding of key information, I was annoyed by the lack of understanding I had of his character. My favorite parts were the beautiful re-tellings of the stories of the gods, which end up having a great bearing on the story at large. It was a good read, but I almost didn’t pick up the next one.

(The premise of each novel inevitably spoils the ending of the one before it, so stop here if you don’t want Book 1 spoiled)

The Queen of Attolia (2000) - Am I glad I did! Originally it was just to “see what happens”, and I decided I could skip to the end for that--which compelled me to read the whole book. Rather than a straightforward quest like the first book, The Queen of Attolia involves war and political machination. As Eddis’s Thief, Eugenides has an important role in scoping out what’s happening in the neighboring Sounis and Attolia. But he meets with disaster--terrifying, crippling disaster, which throws his identity and worth into question. What makes Eugenides great to read about is what he does next, how he still goes after both what he wants and what is best for his country, even when they are irrevocably tangled up with his residual trauma. The character presentation in this book isn’t hindered by their backgrounds being a mystery until the very end, as it was in The Thief, and that’s part of why I liked it more--in addition to the more exciting plot, the presence of important female characters, and the most thematically complex events of the series. And it has the most chillingly awesome book cover.

(Stop if you don’t want Book 2 spoiled)

The King of Attolia (2006) - This third book concerns itself with one thing: Eugenides is now the reluctant sovereign over a people who hate him, and has to deal with attempts at both assassination and overthrow. Mainly through the point of view of Costis, a member of the royal guard who ends up attending the King personally, we learn that our Thief still has plenty of tricks up his sleeve. Fascinating stuff and an engrossing read, but part of me wishes it had included something on a larger scale than just the Attolian court, as its predecessor did.

A Conspiracy of Kings (2010) - This last one gave me that larger scale. Eugenides isn’t the protagonist of this one, but Sophos, the insecure heir to the throne of Sounis. When Sophos is kidnapped and his nation thrown into chaos, he has two choices to make: whether he really wants to be king, and what he’s going to do about it. Sophos isn’t as immediately engaging a hero as Eugenides, but he brings about a pretty spectacular climax, and his tale is just as satisfying.

An unusual fact about Turner’s world is that, as a fantasy, there is no magic. At least no magic the characters can perform. The only magical element is the active presence of gods in a polytheistic world. The gods play crucial roles in the stories, but are never consigned to being mere agents of deus ex machina. Turner makes a point of the main character being a believer in a nation where most people just go through the motions with no real conviction, and the gods act on a much more personal level, rather than performing flashy miracles.

The series’s point of view is interesting, in that each book removes itself farther from Eugenides. The Thief is in unreliable first person, The Queen of Attolia is third person omniscient but mainly from Eugenides' perspective, The King of Attolia is third person omniscient mainly from someone observing him, and A Conspiracy of Kings has another protagonist altogether. It’s an interesting technique, and keeps Eugenides at a distance that maintains his mystique and unexpectedness. Unfortunately, it lets a little pedestal worship creep in. It also keeps the characters--all of them--from being painted in anything other than very broad strokes. Turner zeros in on their distinctive identifying traits, but there is little more to make them into believable people I can empathize with. The resulting aloofness is frustrating, because the characters are so fantastic as they are that I want to know more about what's in their heads! But even if I would've liked more thorough character exploration, it doesn't mean the stories aren't entirely character driven. You could say that Turner’s world is almost more fleshed out than her characters, with the tales and presence of the gods, and complex politics and royal relations (I especially love how large a presence the kings’ and queens’ attendants have in various capacities). The Greek flavor gives it a strong sense of place, something that I always appreciate in fantasy novels.

I wholeheartedly recommend Turner’s series to any fans of young adult fantasy of the courts and kingship variety. It’s a delight to read. As with all of them, the ending of the fourth book is self-contained, but I definitely see potential for a fifth one. I hope Turner gives it to us, and soon.

Another Imaging Adventure

2011-07-26T19:10:00.004-05:00

Do you remember those catalogs that your mom always got in the mail in the early '90s? They had collector plates, 3d jigsaw puzzles, brain twister games, and some art prints. Well, I saw this picture in one of those when I was probably twelve years old:

It was love. I thought that must be the most ethereal seaside palace I'd ever seen. It couldn't be anything but the fruit of an artist's imagination. I cut that picture out and pasted it in a "pretty pictures scrapbook" I made, but those things get lost over the years. Every once in a while that fairytale palace would come back to my memory and I would gaze out the nearest window, chin in hand, dreaming of it. It must have inspired at least two or three stories during my teenage years that were too dumb to even write down.

Some images are too beautiful to capture my imagination alone, however. I recently joined the site Pinterest.com (a match made in heaven! Most people use it to share fashion and decor ideas, but it fits my niche of architecture and inspiration just as well--essentially a digital cloud update of my "pretty pictures scrapbook"), and when I stumbled across this picture on someone's boards, my eyes nearly popped out of my head. We were reunited! Furthermore, I found it was a photograph of Lake Como, Italy. That was all the information it was labeled with. Even from the image source, I couldn't find anything to identify the building. Being a librarian who never lets these things slip through my fingers anymore though, I did a few fruitless Google searches for palaces and villas on Lake Como.

Also being an online tool savvy librarian, I went to Tineye.com, which allows you to load an image so it can find other copies on the web! Brilliant. I discovered from Getty Images that the photograph is of Corenno Plinio, a subdivision of the commune of Dervio in Lombardy. Another simple Google search brought me this:

Success! But it's just an ordinary villa on a nondescript shoreline, none of the intricate detail, none of the majesty, no hints of more architectural delight just outside the view frame. A skilled photographer's touch really makes a difference, doesn't it? I felt rather like the times I've visited the house where I used to live as a kid, or a place of childhood rambling that I haven't been to in years. All the luster was gone. Or when I found out how gruesome all of those classic fairytales really were. Or when I searched high and low, but couldn't find the version of Rapunzel I read in elementary school, so vibrantly illustrated that it made a haunting melodic tune float into my head that I now can't remember. Oh, the sweet mysteries of memory and imagination!

Addition: I guess the Rapunzel tale doesn't really fit, since the book I read as a child was never demystified. But it soon will be! I searched again, and found what I'm reasonably sure is the same illustrated version! It's hard to be sure, since it was over 20 years ago that I read it...

Sweet Land

2011-07-21T19:00:00.011-05:00

I first saw the 2005 independent film Sweet Land over a year ago, but I love it more each time I watch it. And that has been many times. I'll thank Netflix for recommending it to me, but also for keeping it on instant view. When I need something to engage my attention while working on a mundane task, I often go to Netflix, but instead of trying one of the new movies on my queue I keep coming back to Sweet Land. I've even watched it twice this week.

Sweet Land begins in the present day with Lars Torvik, a middle aged man trying to decide what to do with his grandparents' farm at the death of his grandmother, Inge. The first ten minutes of the film slides back and forth between the present day and Lars as a young man, keeping company with Inge the night after his grandfather, Olaf, died. I was a little confused at the flashing back and forward the first time I watched it but it makes perfect sense after watching the film once, and it's a beautiful illustration of how all the times we've lived through are still with us. Finally, the film flashes back even farther to 1919, when Inge first arrived in Minnesota as a mail order bride from Norway.

The core of the story is this: Olaf Torvik's parents, still in Norway, arranged for Inge to travel to America to marry him, but an unexpected complication results when the minister who is supposed to marry them discovers that Inge is actually German. The post WWI anti-German sentiment is so strong that no one with legal authority will perform the marriage, much less allow Inge citizenship. As Olaf and Inge try to overcome this difficulty, they have the opportunity to work through their own differences, uncover each other's true colors, and discover that this arranged match may offer them more than they ever expected.

Inge is lively and intelligent with a great love for music, as evidenced by the gramophone she lugs around. Olaf, on the other hand, is shy and awkward, working to make his farm succeed being his main driving force. Elizabeth Reaser (you may recognize her as Esme Cullen from the Twilight series) and Tim Guinee (he's done many bit parts in high profile movies, most recently Iron Man 2) are perfection in these roles. It just goes to show that fame does not always recognize talent. The early scenes are hilarious with Inge, who doesn't speak any English, trying desperately to follow what's going on, while Olaf is the only one who speaks a language she can understand--and he won't even talk to her. It only gets better when Inge repeatedly invades Olaf's routine, forcing him to get used to her.

Equally funny is Olaf's neighbor and only friend, the helpless and quirky Frandsen (Alan Cumming), and his wife Brownie (Alex Kingston), whose introduction of Inge to apple pie is one of my favorite scenes. The humor may not produce belly laughs; it's more naturalistic. Even in the more somber moments, the screenplay and playful musical score never allow the film to get too heavy for its peacefully reflective tone. Almost everything in this film rings true--at least to someone without specialized knowledge of early 20th century farming or Norwegian/German accents. There have been complaints on that score but seriously, with a budget as small as this film had, it's astounding how much was made from it.

In case you can't tell from the pictures, the cinematography is gorgeous. You really get a sense of how important the land is to these characters. The actors are photographed in a way that accents their non-verbal expressions. This is the kind of film where more is implied than stated blatantly, where a look says more honestly what it would take several lines of dialogue to express. It may seem slow to viewers who are used to stock characters and plot-driven spectacles, but it never ventures into abstractness like so many man/nature films do (which I tend to lose patience with). Neither does it get caught up in the surrounding issues of wartime propaganda, prejudice, or immigration. It never loses it's focus on the characters and their simple story. Sweet Land is always about love--between a husband and wife, between generations, friends, and between a family and the land they've worked to make fruitful.

The director, Ali Selim, hasn't done any other feature films. I really wish he would, because this hidden gem is one of the most beautiful films I've seen, and one of my favorites.

Note #1: I've read the short story the film is based on, "A Gravestone Made of Wheat", by Will Weaver. While the film veers away from the significance of Inge's burial place, in my opinion it is an improved, more uplifting story.

Note #2: Thanks to www.sweetlandmovie.com and lizreaserfans.livejournal.com for the screencaps.

The Forsyte Saga #1: The Man of Property

2011-06-25T20:14:00.007-05:00

I chanced upon bits of the television adaptation of The Forsyte Saga several years ago, my interest peaked when I saw that it starred the one and only Horatio Hornblower, aka Ioan Gruffold. Some of the subject matter made me lose interest, but I always wondered why I had never heard of the book before. When I read somewhere that it was written 20 years too late--a Victorian style novel written in the modern period--yet still won its author a Nobel Prize, I added it to my long reading list. After breaking down and watching the series on a period drama youtube binge a few months ago, I finally picked up the book.

John Galsworthy loved the Forsytes so much that he wrote three trilogies about them, and it’s easy to see why. The Forsyte Saga is a fascinating, satirical portrait of a family representing the Victorian upper middle class who, being new money, view everything in terms of capital and investment. Soames Forsyte, the titular man of property and quintessential Forsyte, is successful in the handling of all his possessions, except the one that matters the most to him--his wife, Irene. Thinking his wife’s increasing estrangement is because of the bad influence of London society, he determines--without telling her--that they will both be happier living in a country house. He hires his young cousin June’s new fiance, architect Phil Bosinney, to build it for them. This triggers a sequence of events that threaten to break up the once unified Forsyte family.

The Man of Property is spare on plot, not much happening in the middle section beyond various members of the family speculating on whether Irene is having an affair with Bosinney. Irene and Bosinney, although they are central characters, are only viewed through the eyes of the titular family, and it’s in their observations, interactions, and sympathies that we see the minute differences and similarities between the family members. That's the genius of this novel, and what sets it apart from soap (which is where the juicy tv series leans). I've always thought that how a story is told can be just as important, if not more so, than the story itself, and this is a prime example.

Another subplot revolves around June's grandfather Old Jolyon, and his estrangement from his son, who ran off with the governess years before, abandoning his wife and daughter. The oldest brother of the older generation, Old Jolyon is as monetarily minded as the rest of them, but his appreciation of beauty, his grief over having to choose his granddaughter over his son, and his reflectiveness on old age, give him a sensitivity that few of the other Forsytes have.

If anything, this book shows (in the case of Soames) that even the most insufferable people have something in them to sympathize with, whether they own it or not. Likewise, the most endearing people have major flaws and limitations in their worldview, unlike most fiction where there is always an enlightened perspective the characters reach. Galsworthy treats all his characters with equal sympathy and irony. Here is a characterization of another of the old generation brothers, Swithin (don’t you just love those names?):

...his mind, where very little took place from morning till night, was the junction of two curiously opposite emotions, a lingering and sturdy satisfaction that he had made his own way and his own fortune, and a sense that a man of his distinction should never have been allowed to soil his mind with work. --Chapter 3

It may plod a little, but The Man of Property is an engrossing, if not speedy, read. I can see why Galworthy won the Nobel Prize, and I'll definitely be finishing the trilogy.

Modern Minded Women Don’t Get Jane Austen

2011-06-22T22:31:00.006-05:00

A snarky, ill-informed post based only on my observation

Jane Austen isn’t my single favorite author anymore, but I have a profound respect for her stories and narrative craft. And I still get frustrated from time to time by other people’s perceptions of her. I don’t expect all readers to love Jane Austen, and I don’t think less of their intelligence just because she isn’t to their taste. Her canvas is narrow, her writing is spare, almost clinical in places, and her frequent use of narrative summary, no matter how wittily rendered, can be off putting to modern audiences who are used to a play by play of every spoken word. But I’m perplexed at some of the misconceptions I’ve come across about her. Most men either don’t get or don’t care about her stories, and that’s fine. I’m talking about women who count the movie adaptations as their favorite movies, but don’t care for the books. Or with the books completely out of the picture, they luuurve the Keira Knightley film but don’t care for the BBC miniseries because it just isn’t romantic enough.

I had a recent conversation with a friend who said that while she liked the movies, she couldn’t stand Jane Austen’s books because of the pages and pages of description, particularly of clothing. I was astounded, as I know this person to be a discerning reader. Any Jane Austen fan knows that you could read for hours and find not one description of clothing, or barely of anything physical. Jane Austen describes characters, interactions, and social dynamics--almost nothing else (rarely are we even given the hair color of our heroine). The only mention of clothing detail I can recall in Austen’s complete works is in a humorous conversation between a frivolous married woman and the good natured hero of Northanger Abbey. I wonder if my friend was getting Austen mixed up with either L.M. Montgomery or Georgette Heyer.

The other misconception is that her stories are supposed to be romantic in the modern sense. Romance in those days was something completely different than how we understand it today. Were books supposed to make you feel something? Of course, but even though Austen’s books are some of the greatest love stories in literature, their intent is not to make a girl’s heart go pitter-patter. And when the film adaptations put emotional fancy over character development and truth, it only cheapens them (I’m looking at you, Gwyneth Paltrow’s Emma).

So let’s look at the two most popular adaptations of Pride & Prejudice, 1995 and 2005. In my opinion, the embarrassed restraint Colin Firth and Jennifer Ehle show on their final walk in the BBC version is much more romantic than any telepathically orchestrated moorside meeting during the scandalous hours of the morning. If any man said “you’ve bewitched me body and soul” to me, I would laugh in his face, and I suspect the original Elizabeth Bennet would too. Even worse is the “Mrs. Darcy” scene at the very end, which was filmed solely for American audiences--it doesn’t even appear in the UK version of the film.

I don’t set out to bash the 2005 film. It’s nice to see an alternate, although Bronte-ized (not to mention rushed), interpretation of the story, and I like it very much. It’s just that this film is the centerpiece of a trend to re-imagine classic stories to fuel the emotionally starved female’s romantic fantasies. I do wish the entertainment industry's tendency to pan to audiences who only want emotional gratification would leave Jane Austen alone. That’s what The Notebook is for.

Austen very rarely causes words of love come out of her characters’ mouths without some ironic twist. Cases in point are Mr. Collins’ and Mr. Darcy’s first proposals to Elizabeth in Pride & Prejudice. One is insincere and comical, while the other is riddled with pride and arrogance. Darcy’s second, successful proposal is straight and to the point--no fancy verbage there.

Persuasion is considered by many to be Jane Austen’s most romantic novel, and that may be because the hero’s final declaration of love is actually spelled out, not just recounted in narrative summary. It works because it’s not spoken, but in a letter. The only other example of dialogue expressing love is Mr. Knightley’s declaration at the end of Emma, and that consists of him telling her that he feels too much to actually express it.

Austen always skirts around the romantic flourishes and cheesy lines we’ve been so accustomed to since “love means never having to say you’re sorry”. I guess she figures that talk is best left between the characters. You don’t make a love story endure 200 years by dreaming up dialogue that no self-respecting person would ever say out loud. Well, not unless you’re Charlotte Bronte, but that’s another subject entirely.

I know there are many modern women who understand and appreciate Jane Austen and other authors from different times and places. But there are plenty more who are unable to think or observe outside their own cultural and temporal perspective, who view period drama as nothing more than a modern soap in pretty dresses (some of it is, I grant you) and like it that way. If you doubt my word, observe how many bodice ripping “sequels” to Pride & Prejudice are selling--not in Internet obscurity, but in popular bookstores. Then kindly check the author bios, and see how many mention how they were introduced to Austen courtesy of the Keira Knightley movie.

More Morbidity: Most Traumatizing Movie Deaths, Part 2

2011-06-10T19:30:00.006-05:00

A little over a year ago I made a list of the top ten movie deaths that traumatized me as a kid, and some as an adult. I realized recently though, that there was a character death that I left off inexcusably. After pondering my quandary and discovering a few other key deaths, I decided this part 2 list had to be made.

10. Lucius Hunt, in The Village - This one is in the bottom spot because he doesn't exactly die, or at least we're not sure he does and can hope he doesn't. But the fact that this story had to switch heroes because the first one suffers a violent near-murder at the hands of a mentally handicapped friend was unexpected and horrifying. The film actually did scare me, and the fact that the hero was killed off halfway through made it even more unpredictable (for those of us who didn't guess the ending and didn't think the "creatures" were stupid looking, of course).

9. Murron, in Braveheart - I already knew this story by the time my high school geography teacher showed us the movie, but Murron's death still shook me up. She looks around frantically, hoping her husband will save her up until the moment of her death, and then a flick of the Englishman's hand and she is choking, unable to be saved. It's a death that justifies the following two hours of vengeance.

8. Uncas, The Last of the Mohicans - Uncas is the character we love because he does just as much awesomeness as the hero, only silently, without making an exhibition of himself (and looking good the entire time). His father's silent reaction speaks for the magnitude of his death. Since they never actually speak to each other, we don't know exactly what was going on between Uncas and Alice Munro until we see how she reacts to his death. If nothing else, this has to be the most beautiful death scene ever filmed.

7. Nursemaid, in Willow - Uh, yeah. She gets eaten by wild dogs that look like giant rats. And if she hadn't smuggled that baby out of the evil queen's tower, Willow would have never become the hero he did. It all hinged on the Nursemaid, and she gave her life to send the baby down the river on a floaty. This scene scared the crap out of me as a kid.

6. Wilson, in Castaway - Never thought you would cry like your best friend had died when a volleyball got lost out in the ocean, did you? This scene owes almost everything to Tom Hanks' acting. After seeing the film only once, this is the only scene that stands out in my memory.

5. Spock, in The Wrath of Khan - Because Spock is everyone's favorite (and if he isn't, he should be). Spock is what makes Star Trek Star Trek. Spock is the classic contrast to the (supposed) hero, the making of the ultimate Bromance. And Spock dies. Spock dies? Yes indeed, and his sacrifice was so traumatizing that the creators had to make an entire new film around undoing the havoc they had caused. And that is one poignant death scene.

4. . Bruno & Shmuel, in The Boy in the Striped Pajamas - This is the most recent trauma on this list. Two years ago I was working out obliviously with this sweet little tale about a little boy in Nazi Germany on for entertainment. And then all of the sudden I was not exercising, but doubled over on the floor, heaving convulsive sobs. I am done with holocaust movies. D-U-N.

3. Some lady whose name I can't remember, in Against a Crooked Sky - This is not a good movie, at least I'm assuming not since it's rated low on imdb. The only claim to fame this 1975 film has is that it stars the same kid that was in Where the Red Fern Grows. Since there are no videos or stills online, I'll sum up the story from what I remember. Indians raid this kid's home and steal his older sister. He searches for her for years and finds that she has assimilated into the tribe and married one of them. But for some reason some of the Indians don't like her, and frame her for murder. She is sentenced to stand on the edge of a cliff with a veil over her face and be shot with arrows--unless her brother can race across the valley and get there in time to take the arrow for her. He races across the valley, and just...doesn't make it in time! She gets shot off the cliff. Horrifier #1 to a little kid. We find out later that it actually wasn't her behind the veil, but another woman of the Indian tribe who sacrificed herself. Horrifier #2: A scary image of the woman's dead face at the bottom of the cliff. Memories can be much more powerful than the actual source that supplied them.

2. Old Yeller, in Old Yeller - This was the one that prompted the second list. How in the world could I forget this excruciating sadness the first time around? A warm, fuzzy movie about a boy and his dog should be standard viewing for any Disney kids, right? Until said dog gets rabies and said boy has to shoot him. How times have changed when kids are sheltered from stuff like this, but exposed to every other monstrosity our society can offer!

1. Artax, in The Neverending Story - Sorry, Yeller. You may have been the source of this second list, but Artax is still my #1 traumatizing movie death. Stupid horse.

And this is still the most awesome movie death ever:

Comedy-THRILLERomance

2011-05-17T22:45:00.012-05:00

Until last year the action/thriller-comedy-romance seemed to be a relic of a bygone era. I’m not talking about an action film with a love interest on the side, but where there are two equally weighted protagonists whose story has elements of the screwball romance--except with the plot of an action/thriller and a healthy dose of style and comedy. Whether these films succeed or fail often depends largely on the chemistry between the leads. There were a few of these sprinkled throughout the ‘80s and ‘90s, with Romancing the Stone, The Princess Bride, True Lies, and Entrapment (some are better than others). Mr. & Mrs. Smith probably qualifies as well (I actually haven’t seen it). But it’s a formula that seemed to have all but died out.

2010 proved that it hasn’t, bringing three films that fit the type like a glove. Knight and Day was the first and the silliest of the three, but if you can stand Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz (both are far from my list of favorite actors) and leave your brain at the door, it’s a fun and entertaining film about a woman who gets thrown into a myriad of implausibilities with a renegade spy. I’m not much of an Angelina Jolie fan, but I do enjoy Johnny Depp, and The Tourist started getting good once Jolie wiped the smug smile she wore for the first 15 minutes off her face. Stylish thrillers are usually a decent time pass, and for some reason I really liked this one. Probably because it reminded me of Charade, right down to Jolie’s wardrobe. Unlike the previous two, it was the cast that took me to Red (Retired, Extremely Dangerous). Morgan Freeman, Bruce Willis, and Helen Mirren in the same film? I’m so there. Mary Louise Parker was also good as the customer service worker who ends up being sucked into the world of hit listed ex-assassins because Bruce Willis' lonely character made so many telephone calls to her.

But old is gold, and since this blog specializes in classic and obscure movies, the real features here are the classic action/thriller-comedy-romances. These are more on the adventure/thriller side, since the modern action film hadn’t been developed yet.

The African Queen (1951, John Huston) - There’s little that’s more entertaining than watching two complete opposites who hate each other get stuck on a boat down the Ulanga river in Africa during WWI, and come out at the other side of their adventures in love--and ready to blow up themselves a German ship. Katharine Hepburn and Humphrey Bogart have never been better, and some of their experiences in the African wild are still cringe-worthy, despite the film’s age.

Rear Window (1954, Alfred Hitchcock) - Socialite Grace Kelly wants to marry James Stewart's adventurous photographer, but he's convinced their lifestyles are too different. When his neighborhood spying (the result of being stuck in a leg cast with nothing else to do) convinces him that a murder took place across the courtyard though, they get to know each other on a whole new level trying to find proof of what happened. This is my favorite Hitchcock film that wasn't made in the '40s, and a perfect piece of the slow burn suspense that doesn't exist in modern movies.

To Catch a Thief (1955, Alfred Hitchcock) - Hitchcock obviously excelled at this type of film, but with the stars he was able to assemble, how could he not succeed? Cary Grant plays an ex-jewel thief who catches the attention of Grace Kelly’s heiress. But she sees through his cover and, when burglaries happen following his old pattern, wonders whether he’s more interested in her, or her jewels. This isn't one of Hitchcock's best films, but it provides some of his most iconic scenes, such as the fireworks scene pictured above.

North by Northwest (1959, Alfred Hitchcock) - When Cary Grant is mistaken for a spy and framed for murder he goes on the run, determined to find out who the spy really is. He gets mixed up with the enigmatic Eva Marie Saint, who seems to want to both help him and betray him. This one is the most action-oriented of the lot, with Grant being gunned down by a crop duster, then hanging off the face of Mount Rushmore with Saint. Not to mention being forced into driving a car while dead drunk. My 2nd-favorite Hitchcock film from the '50s (Vertigo may be the critics' favorite, but it's too twisted for me).

Charade (1963, Stanley Donen) - Charade optimizes this genre, at least in my estimation. It’s been called “the best Hitchcock movie that Hitchcock never made,” but I actually think Donen’s background in musicals brought a unique blend of comedy and romance to this suspense movie. Audrey Hepburn plays a young widow who finds herself threatened by three men, all claiming her late husband stole a fortune from them. Cary Grant is the man she goes to for help, whose loyalties--and identity--she can never be sure of. Grant may be showing his age, but he and Hepburn are still screen magic. Charade has something for everyone, and I’ve never seen anything like it since.

How to Steal a Million (1966, William Wyler) - When Audrey Hepburn catches Peter O’Toole apparently trying to steal one of her father’s paintings in the middle of the night, she accidentally shoots him...then gives him a ride home...then hires him to help her steal a sculpture from a museum that is in danger of exposing her father as the art forger he is. There's not a whole lot to this film but both the leads are so likable that their heist and the natural result is entertaining through and through.

Are there any good ones, classic or modern, that I've left out?

Now, to do this (my pillow will have to do, since Peter O'Toole's foot isn't available):

To Say Nothing of the Dog

2011-05-15T14:09:00.008-05:00

Remember Doomsday Book from last year, the time travel novel about the Black Death that made me bawl for 200 pages and whose impact ranks it as one of the most powerful novels I’ve ever read? Well, this past week was my next journey into the world of author Connie Willis (I don’t count the short novel Remake, which I hated so much it wasn’t even worth mentioning). Despite the unfortunate parenthetical misstep, Willis is on her way to becoming one of my favorite and most respected authors of all time. That's saying a lot for someone who hasn't been dead for over a hundred years, much less still alive and publishing.

To Say Nothing of the Dog features the same future, same Oxford, same time machine that Doomsday Book does, but even though Professor James Dunworthy also appears in this one, it isn’t a sequel to the previous novel. It takes place 2 or 3 years later in 2057, but the events of Doomsday Book aren’t even mentioned. Furthermore, rather than a harrowing depiction of pandemic and death, To Say Nothing of the Dog is a comedy of errors and manners, with a bit of whodunit and romance added to the mix.

The formidable Lady Shrapnell (modeled after Oscar Wilde’s Lady Bracknell, I’m guessing--or perhaps Wodehouse’s Aunt Agatha) is obsessed with building a replica of old Coventry Cathedral (it burned down during an air raid in WWII) with the motto “God is in the details”, right down to an atrocious Victorian sculpture called the Bishop’s bird stump. Because of the promise of a hefty donation, all of Oxford seems at Lady Shrapnell’s beck and call, jumping through history to research the cathedral, or search for missing items. Ned Henry has been searching jumble sales for weeks for the elusive Bishop’s bird stump and, along with sleep deprivation, is suffering from advanced time-lag (from too many time drops), whose symptoms include difficulty distinguishing sounds, fatigue, and “a tendency to maudlin sentimentality, like an Irishman in his cups or a Victorian poet cold-sober.” (p. 8)

To help Ned escape Lady Shrapnell’s demands and have a chance for recovery, Mr. Dunworthy sends him back to the Victorian era (thinking his time-lagged sentimentality will fit right in) with a simple mission: return an object that historian Verity Kindle accidentally brought to the future through the time net, and then rest for two weeks. Things don’t go as planned of course, and Ned and Verity find themselves struggling to maintain their Victorian reputations while trying to fix events-gone-wrong that could throw history drastically off course.

The joy in this book is definitely in the details. Ned’s internal commentary while trying to make sense of things in his time-lagged state is some of the funniest stuff I’ve read. Equally entertaining are his connections of Victorian people and events to fictional and historical figures, and events in other periods of history. Oxford Dons arguing about their theories of what determines history--character or natural forces--while Ned laments that the chaotic system hasn’t been thought of yet.

Jerome K. Jerome’s humorous travelogue, Three Men in a Boat, has been on my reading list, but I had no idea that its subtitle actually supplied the title of Willis’ novel--to say nothing of a good portion of plot. I’ll be reading Three Men in a Boat very soon. It’s only one of several works heavily referenced by Willis, however. Appreciating the humor of To Say Nothing of the Dog requires familiarity with Dorothy L. Sayers’ Lord Peter Wimsey mysteries (the ones featuring Harriet Vane--Strong Poison, Have His Carcase, and Gaudy Night); Agatha Christie’s Hercule Poirot; Carroll’s Alice in Wonderland; Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shalott”; Wodehouse’s Jeeves; even Mother Goose’s “The House that Jack Built”. It's an extra pleasure to discover you're reading a book whose author seems to have the same literary taste that you do.

Here are a few of my favorite lines (which were hard to choose, because nearly every page had one I wished I could extract):

p. 231 To a cat: “You are not drowning! Do you hear me? Not after we’ve risked the entire universe to save you!”
p. 397 “I set the bag down and put the boater on at a jaunty angle that would have made Lord Peter proud....‘Harriet,’ I said, and pulled her back into the already shining net. And kissed her for a hundred and sixty-nine years.”
p. 423 “I shook my head admiringly. ‘Jeeves would have been proud of you. To say nothing of Bunter. And the Admirable Crichton.’”

To Say Nothing of the Dog has a couple of limitations, one being that the pace lags in the middle, with every imaginable disruption happening without much suspense. For that reason, the novel has to be read as a Wodehousian comedy, with the mystery and science fiction aspects being secondary. The characters don’t have much more depth than Wodehouse’s players either, though Ned and Verity keep up their likability from beginning to end.

In short, if you enjoy pastiche and literary references galore, to say nothing of the Victorian era, don’t walk, but run to find To Say Nothing of the Dog.

P.S. I didn't say anything about the dog. You'll just have to find out for yourself.

Sometimes I feel like this:

2011-05-03T18:12:00.005-05:00

It's not as fun as Scarlet O'Hara makes it out to be.

Jane Eyre, or a subject I have a lot to say about

2011-03-28T00:06:00.004-05:00

Ah, Jane Eyre! One of those books whose beauty reveals itself more and more with each reading. I never had the privilege of wondering what the mystery of Thornfield Hall was, of being in dire agony with Jane over the uncertainty of Rochester's feelings for her; because of my sister's feverish bedtime retelling when I was 12 and she was 14--she having just had her first taste of those stories that reach into your soul and inextricably knot your innards together--and the long line of screen adaptations we watched after, I knew the story like the back of my hand by the time I actually read it.

That ended up being my senior year in high school, when I read the entire canon of “classics for young romantic girls”--the complete works of Jane Austen, with the essential Bronte sisters (I also threw in Les Miserables for good measure). I loved Jane Eyre when I first read it, but it was a love without true taste or comprehension, based primarily on the knowledge that it was a renowned classic and my sister's favorite book of all time. I've read it once or twice since, but my interest in it was peaked once more when I saw the trailer for the new 2011 adaptation, which I hoped would be missing the things that bothered me about the 2006 BBC miniseries (but let's face it—the only “definitive” Jane Eyre will always the book alone. Films just can't do it complete justice).

If you don't know this story, let me culture you at once. The orphaned daughter of a poor clergyman, Jane Eyre is raised with contempt by her aunt, and abuse by her cousins. At ten years old she is sent to a charity school with even more wretched living conditions (yes, the first 80 or so pages are a bit depressing). Nevertheless, Jane's practical but passionate spirit flourishes and she has dreams of seeing more of the world and one day finding a situation where she will feel valued and content. Once of age, she finds employment at the lonely estate of Thornfield as governess to a little French girl, and meets her equal in the changeable Mr. Rochester, who has traveled the world over and tasted of its phoniness in a mad search for companionship that he never finds—until of course he meets Jane Eyre. But even while Jane is concerned with such chasms as age, social class, and beauty, there's a mystery at Thornfield that threatens her future even more.

A coming of age story, a social critique, a romance, and a tale of gothic horror—Jane Eyre is all of the above. That all of these elements blend so seamlessly is a testament to Charlotte Bronte's dexterity. But Jane Eyre, more so than any of these, is a celebration of the individual. I've never read a book titled after a character whose name says so much. The smallness of her name echoes the plainness of her looks, the limits of her experience, and the humility of her circumstances. The irony is that those things don't preclude a full life wrought with internal passion, acute observation, and ultimate opportunity.

SPOILERS from here on!
While Jane's accounted life is a long quest for seemingly unobtainable love and human sympathy, she clings more fiercely to her independence of spirit and resources. Jane is never a damsel in distress. Even in the face of ruin and death, she is her own woman. There's always an unsettling feeling in the middle section about Jane's engagement with Rochester, and it isn't only because of the looming business on the third floor. It's because Rochester wants to be her protector, her patron, her savior. Jane's spirit doesn't revolt only because she loves him to the point of idolatry, but we as the audience know that this isn't in harmony with Jane's self identity, and that dissatisfaction must eventually settle on her life should it continue in this course.

It is only after Jane is completely independent with her own worldly consequence (in the form of her inheritance), and her own family, that she can be fully happy with Rochester. The exposure of and separation from Rochester give her the opportunity to forsake her idolatrous obsession, and allow her to come back equal to a healthy and loving relationship with him.

The Brontes' novels always feel removed from reality to me. They are fierce, isolated affairs with a perspective untempered by orderly society. Unlike Wuthering Heights though, Jane Eyre has a cord fastened to reality, it's moral center. The Christianity inherent in the story and characters is the leash which reigns Charlotte's tale in from being the monster of animalistic vehemence that her sister Emily's is.

One of the big questions Bronte asks, is "What makes a true Christian?" Exhibit 1 is the hypocritical Mr. Brocklehurst, proprietor of Lowood School, and obviously he's the first one to fail. Then we have little Helen Burns, the embodiment of passive long suffering. Jane admires and loves her, but still doesn't understand how she can be so accepting of a miserable existence. Although Jane never subscribes entirely to Helen's doctrine, at least in voice, Helen's example is an inspiration to her and helps her make her most difficult life choices.

We have the contrast of St. John Rivers (pronounced Sinjun) and Edward Rochester. The cold and ambitious, but untiring laborer in God's vineyard; and the ferocious sinner who yet finds true remorse and repentance in a quest for happiness paralleling that of Jane's (although she lives a comparatively stainless life).

And finally, we see Jane's own brand of Christianity, the willingness to accept God's will for her life and do good in whatever small ways she can, but with the boldness to express her own desires and to recognize her emotional needs, to identify what constitutes happiness for her, even when she believes it will never come to pass. The crucible of Jane's life is undoubtedly her decision to leave Thornfield and the one person who ever loved her. This is one of the great moral dilemmas in literature (which can only be fully understood by someone who believes chastity to still be a relevant law), akin to Jean Valjean's decision whether or not to expose himself as a criminal in Les Miserables. Every justification can be made for Jane to stay with Rochester, except the only one that matters: what is right. Jane is prompted to flee, and flee she does, even knowing that it may lead to her death and Rochester's further downfall. This action shows Jane's ability to align with the will of God, while still maintaining her self understanding and identity. She is driven to desire death, but when death doesn't come she still keeps going. Only at the end does she find that her most earnest prayer, the one for Rochester's welfare, was answered.

Our understanding of Jane's character reaches its pinnacle in her dealings with St. John. Here she owns up to what she had shown us in all her lifelong dealings:

I never in my life have known any medium in my dealings with positive, hard characters, antagonistic to my own, between absolute submission and determined revolt. I have always faithfully observed the one, up to the very moment of bursting, sometimes with volcanic vehemence, into the other. Chapter XXXIV

We also find that Jane has a bit of sarcasm, too:

He addressed me precisely in his ordinary manner, or what had, of late, been his ordinary manner--one scrupulously polite. No doubt he had invoked the help of the Holy Spirit to subdue the anger I had roused in him, and now believed he had forgiven me once more. Chapter XXXV

Jane becomes bold when she sees others' flaws, which is why she even allows herself to become close to Rochester in the first place. With St. John it is when he uses all manner of persuasion, honest then manipulative, to convince Jane to come with him to India, that she regards him not anymore as a distant and incomprehensible object of admiration, but as a flawed man with good intentions, whose stubborn pride makes him think he has the right to decide what God's will is for someone else's life.

No happy reconciliation was to be had with him--no cheering smile or generous word: but still the Christian was patient an placid; and when I asked him if he forgave me, he answered that he was not in the habit of cherishing the remembrance of vexation; that he had nothing to forgive, not having been offended. And with that answer he left me. I would much rather he had knocked me down. Chapter XXXIV

Jane's dealings with St. John fascinated me and infuriated me more than anything else this reading, because I can identify with the situation of someone setting themselves up in a “holier than thou” position (no matter how unknowingly) and presuming to tell you what decisions you need to make to be an adequate Christian. It's painful when someone who truly believes they are in the right encroaches upon your agency that way, treating their personal disappointment in you as your own fundamental lack of faith or generosity.

But even though Jane fights this manipulation, she also has a breaking point, and when she is on the verge of that breaking point is when the divine intervenes once more to lead her back to Thornfield. In a lovely allusion to Mary the mother of Jesus, Jane doesn't tell Rochester of the experience which brought her back, but instead "I kept these things then, and pondered them in my heart." Chapter XXXVII

I know it is a product of the Victorian moral code that Jane receives such an ample reward for her endurance, while Rochester must suffer debilitation for his mistakes, but it makes for such a harmonic ending that it's difficult to imagine it being more beautiful. The stories that mix realism and fable are the ones I love best of all.

Last, I want to address Bronte's narrative techniques, firstly the one Jane Eyre is famous for, addressing the reader in second person. It does call attention to itself, but it doesn't happen often enough to be distracting, in my opinion. It gives a feeling of authenticity to the narration that, in the hands of a lesser writer, wouldn't have worked. It also allows Bronte to be creative in how she executes certain scenes, one being the scene where Jane's wedding veil is destroyed. Instead of cutting to the chase chronologically, Jane asks the reader to bear with her as she anxiously awaits Rochester's return the day after the event, and we only find out what happened the night before when Rochester finds out. Not only does this build suspense and the foreboding that has been growing throughout their engagement, but it effectively cuts out the common problem of a narrator having to recount an event in summary, in order to lead to a character's reaction to it.

Another uniquely told portion is the portrait scene, where Jane bullies herself into keeping her feelings for Rochester in check by creating first a rough portrait of her own face, then a refined painting of what she imagines her supposed rival, Blanche Ingram, looks like. Rather than a straight description of what Jane does, Bronte approaches this scene with Jane's internal dialogue: her detailed, present tense mental instructions to herself to carry out the task. After this, Jane only has to state succinctly that that is exactly what she did, and what the result was. Through this method Bronte draws the emphasis away from the portraits themselves, and puts it where it's more important—on Jane's command over her impulses and thought patterns.

I've barely touched the surface of what is great about Jane Eyre. Charlotte Bronte's hold on the English language is at once intense and exquisite ("You are sick; you are cold; and you are silly"). Rochester's dialogue may get overly sappy at the end, Jane may paint a too idealized picture of their life together in the conclusion, but Jane Eyre is as near a perfect book as any I've ever read.

To fill in the gap

2011-03-23T15:19:00.008-05:00

Life is so interesting these days, I wish I could write something about it, but since there are traceable ties between this site and people I know besides you faithful readers, that would not be a good idea.
I go to Minneapolis tomorrow!
It's going to be cold.
I'm not nervous about my upcoming presentation...yet.
It's a continual source of frustration to me that Words with Friends doesn't accept French, Italian, or Hindi vocabulary.
Today my good friend el Seco had this to say to me:

el Seco: I had a dream about you a couple of days ago. I had just become really rich and I wanted to build an amazing private library, so I hired you on as a librarian to help me put it together from the ground up. It was very exciting. I was like, "[Jane], I have 2 million dollars budgeted for this. Will you help me?" You didn't answer. We were just suddenly looking at shelving and hard back classics.
I want to know if you will help me build my library when I am really rich. Actually, I need to know this. Right now.

Me: Of course I will! I'm never going to be rich, so it'll be nice to indulge that impulse with somebody else's money.

Tunes that Haunted my Childhood

2011-03-13T22:03:00.009-05:00

Please forgive the extreme self indulgent nature of this post. Mystery and nostalgia are two of my favorite feelings, or impressions. I don’t know why, but they’ve been a big driving force in my imaginative life. Recently I watched the documentary The Boys: The Sherman Brothers’ Story, about the creative team who wrote songs for many Disney productions, including beloved Mary Poppins. That made me think about how much influence these two men had on my childhood, without me even knowing it. I was reminded of how haunting some of their songs were to me, with beauty, or sadness, or mystery--usually a combination of all three. I thought more, and remembered more tunes that had that effect on me. There were exactly 11 that I could remember. I tried to rank them, but it didn’t really work, so here they all are in no particular order.

1. Feed the Birds (Mary Poppins, 1964), by Robert and Richard Sherman
These memories are so powerful mainly because of the music, but also because they capture in tone the aesthetic of what is going on onscreen. Such is the case with "Feed the Birds", a song that turns charitable impulse into the murky, Gothic dream world of a snow globe of yesteryear (Gothic in tone only, since St. Paul’s Cathedral is clearly Baroque).

2. La Petite Fille de la Mer (used at the end of Stranger than Fiction, but that’s obviously not where it originated), by Vangelis
This piece has no associations for me other than its gentle elusiveness evoking the sad, mystified emotions I felt as I listened to it on my mom’s Vangelis CD when I was little. Just listen.

3. Oh What a Merry Christmas Day (Mickey’s Christmas Carol, 1983), by Irwin Kostal
The song plays over the flickering candle-lit parchment of the opening credits, but it was really the entire short film that haunted me. The idea that Tiny Tim wouldn’t make it, and that Scrooge would be buried alive in that dark cemetery were terrifying to me as a child. The song, proclaiming a joyous Christmas, but with a wistful, yearning nostalgia fitting Scrooge’s reflections on his life, merely sums up the whole experience.

4. Theme from The Chronicles of Narnia (BBC miniseries, 1988), by Geoffrey Burgon
This BBC miniseries was extremely hokey, and I knew that even when I was a kid. Something about it still made me keep watching though, and a big part of that was the enigmatic, otherworldy aura that the main theme gave it. It was enough to make me read all the books and become diehard C.S. Lewis fan.

5. The Journey, or "Who Will Rescue Me?" (The Rescuers, 1977)
Who can fail to be moved by this creepy, hopeful, terrifying journey of a cry for help, in the form of a message in a bottle, making it from a kidnapped orphan in an obscure place to a big city where maybe, just maybe, someone will be able to help? The fact that the animation is in still images, with the tumultuous music supplying the motion of the waves and the cracking of lightning, merely intensifies the experience.

6. Nocturne in E Minor (as used in The Secret Garden, 1987), by Frederic Chopin
When I heard Chopin’s Noctune in E Minor (original version) in college, my mind was instantly transported back to Archibald Craven’s foggy memories of his deceased wife and her secret garden. This song captures to perfection the romance and mystery of Mary Lennox’s discovery of the garden, and the hidden past behind it. Another movie whose memorability exceeds its quality, solely because of how evocative the music is.

7. Deep in the Dark (Charlotte’s Web, 1973), by Robert and Richard Sherman
Again, I felt that this film wasn’t up to par with other animated favorites (unlike most people who can’t even tell the difference now, I knew even as a kid what was a Disney movie and what was not), but the opening credits, an instrumental version of this song along coupled with the changing of the seasons, were so heartbreaking.

8. Pas de Deux (The Nutcracker, 1892), by Tchaikovsky
I always enjoyed the Nutcracker portion of Disney's Fantasia. It wasn't until after I saw the ballet in 5th grade though, that I was introduced to this piece. By high school I would listen to it over and over. It still makes me melt. (And no, I don't know what's up with the random cats in the video)

9. My Own Home (The Jungle Book, 1967), by Robert and Richard Sherman
After all his adventures in the jungle, the thing that tempts Mowgli into civilization is woman. Without the enchanting allure of this song, the ending wouldn’t have worked. As it is, I got it even as a kid (although I wondered how she was acting that way without even considering herself “grown” yet).

10. Main Titles (An American Tail, 1986), by James Horner
The violin begins with a soft, intimate melody hinting at the warmth and comfort of home amidst the swirling snowflakes we see onscreen. Finally, the strings swell into the drama of a journey in a faraway land, and unfulfilled dreams. This sweeping violin theme continues through the story, characterizing little Fievel’s yearning for his family, right up until he is reunited with them. The early James Horner simply can’t be matched when it comes to tearjerking tunes.

11. Carousel Waltz (Carousel, 1945 musical/1956 film), by Richard Rogers
My grandmother had a carousel music box, just like the one in this video when we were young. My sister and I used to wind it up and listen to it all the time, mesmerized by the tune it played. It was only as an adult that I realized where that tune came from--the Rogers and Hammerstein musical! Even while the musical was disappointing, the Carousel Waltz still makes my heart whirl as if in a strange and colorful world.

Thinking back, I owe a lot of the phantoms of my childhood to Don Bluth (animator/director for The Jungle Book, The Rescuers, An American Tail), as well as the Sherman Brothers (songwriters for The Jungle Book, Charlotte’s Web, Mary Poppins). Are there any songs that affected you in a similar manner as a child, or am I alone in this?

Downton Abbey

2011-03-03T23:00:00.009-06:00

I read the plot synopses for this show long before it ever aired on PBS's Masterpiece Classic (there's always that terrible delay before English shows are released in the US), and it sounded a bit, well...soap-operatic. And it’s not a miniseries, but a full on tv show. I hate being strung along with the lack of closure tv shows usually have, watching a series decline into filler and confusion and muck until I don’t even care anymore. I should’ve given writer Julian Fellowes more credit, though. He did, after all, give us the stellar Gosford Park.

Set during the years introducing domestic electricity and telephones, Downton Abbey begins with the sinking of the most famous ocean liner in history. This changes the lives of Robert Crawley, Earl of Grantham (Hugh Bonneville, whose range I am increasingly impressed with), and his family. The eldest daughter, Mary, cannot inherit her father’s estate or her mother’s fortune tangled up with it, and there is argument about whether her parents ought to fight the laws of the time in order to leave her anything. Sybil, the youngest daughter, is a socially minded suffragette, and the middle daughter, Edith, is...well, the middle child. Sir Robert himself is a forward thinking man with an extraordinary compassion for the lives of those in all stations, but with a great sense of duty to his family name and estate. His wife, Cora, is an American import who does her best to act in her daughters’ interests, and to smooth over any conflicts with Sir Robert’s impossible mother, played to perfection by Maggie Smith.

The Crawley Sisters

Enter Matthew Crawley, the new heir presumptive of Downton Abbey, who practices law and is determined that his future title, class, and responsibilities won’t change him. He begins on the wrong foot with Mary, whose “rightful” fortune he will inherit, while the most obvious way to tidy up the situation would be for the two to get married. Matthew’s mother, Isobel, a former nurse also comes to Downton and proceeds to butt heads in almost every way with Sir Robert’s mother, Violet.

That’s only half the story, because houses like Downton don’t run like clockwork. The servants do have lives of their own (to an extent)--some are insubordinate, some get sick, and some are trouble makers. Who is it that makes the Crawleys’ luxurious lifestyle possible? A butler, a housekeeper. A fussy cook and her innocent, terrified scullery maid. A lame valet with a mysterious past. A house maid who wants to leave service and make an independent living as a secretary. A young footman who misses his family, and another footman who will stop at nothing to realize his own ambition, or just to cause trouble. These stories are just as compelling as what goes on upstairs, these characters just as beloved. And the two worlds are far from separate. Just as much of the story is about interactions between the classes as within them.

Watching the first half, I wasn’t sure how much I liked it. I was engrossed, but like in Gosford Park, there’s such a myriad of characters that there’s no single lens of perspective, no steady viewpoint. Since so little time is spent on each character, it’s hard to care about them initially. Through the second half of the season though, the characters’ complexities begin to be uncovered. I learned to love them, good and bad, and now see the fly-on-the-wall perspective as one of the series’ greatest strengths. This trailer depicts well what one of the most prominent themes of the series is, and is the best use of The Police’s “Every Breath You Take” that I’ve ever seen. When you live in a house like Downton Abbey, which is an enterprise in itself, you’re life is not your own. Privacy is virtually nonexistent, no matter how much weight society puts on reputation.

The main recurring theme throughout the series is change. Along with the constancy of change and lack of privacy is the issue of the worth of a woman’s life at that time, and the sibling rivalry and other blunders that come from such a weight put on marriage. For that reason, Lady Mary’s dilemma is the most prominent thread of the story, and actress Michelle Dockery is quite up to the task. Mary isn’t the prettiest of the girls (that would be Sybil), but her tart manners and flashing dark eyes make for a fascinating female romantic lead, and it’s easy to see why so many men are interested in her (even when you want to beat her over the head with a stick). As for Dan Stephens, who plays Matthew, no one whose seen him in Sense and Sensibility 2008 needs an endorsement from me.

My favorite characters the first time around (yes, I’ve watched it twice, because I was eager to see the original 7 episode cut that Netflix instant recently acquired, rather than the rearranged version that PBS did to smash it into 4) were Lady Sybil, and the kind head housemaid, Anna. Characters I loved on second viewing were Evelyn Napier, one of Mary’s suitors who shows uncommon sensitivity and gentlemanly behavior; and William, the adorable footman who is the butt of head footman Thomas’ bullying, and likes the cute little scullery maid, Daisy. I also loved the interactions between the two Lady Granthams, Cora and Violet. Some of the subtleties of their communication was lost on me the first time, but I was delighted with their scenes, more muted than Violet’s sparring with Isobel, but no less entertaining.

I don’t want to spoil the ending of this marvelous series, but although it is heartbreaking in many ways, it’s spot on, bringing everything home, and setting up great potential for the next series. We have the rich classic literature adaptations of the last 15 years to thank for the expanding canvas of period drama. I’m glad it’s finding new, smart territory to tread. At first I was upset at it being strung along, but this story needs more room than the 4-8 hour structure of a miniseries. Now it’s only a matter of waiting a full torturous year for the next series.

I’ve read comments (by those who have actually seen the show, as opposed to my initial misconception) saying that Downton Abbey is just a smartly dressed up soap opera, a common criticism I’ve heard about period drama. I’ve been thinking about what separates soap from plain drama. Having never watched a soap opera, I can’t comment from that angle. But I wonder if that view has something to do with the fact that period dramas are dramas of life, without any exterior big events, no genre-defining plot devices. The action takes place in their living rooms. The drama comes from the characters dealing with situations and making choices that every person must make. I call that verisimilitude. That’s why so many women identify with period drama--the best of it features realistic characters that go through the same things we go through, only in a nice dress and a more orderly society than ours. Like any kind of drama, there’s good, and there’s bad.

Furthermore, Julian Fellowes deftly sidesteps melodrama by allowing for the passage of time throughout the story. The series takes place over the course of two years, and many of the “big events” are only referred to only in passing, or with a nonchalance that fixes their importance within the daily lives of the characters. A pivotal proposal isn’t even shown onscreen, just the lead up to it, and one of the parties' thoughts about it afterward. But the characters are so well scripted that our minds can fill in the gaps without straining believability.

Soap opera? I most certainly hope not.

Finally, it needs to be said that Maggie Smith as Violet, the Dowager Lady Crawley, has the best lines. Here’s a sampling:

“No Englishman would dream of dying in someone else’s house. Especially someone they didn’t even know!”

“I was right about my maid. She’s leaving--to get married! How could she be so selfish?”

“First electricity, now telephones. Sometimes I feel as if I’m living in an H.G. Wells novel.”

“What’s a weekend?”

Violet: “You are quite wonderful, the way you see room for improvement wherever you look. I never knew such reforming zeal.”
Isobel: “I take that as a compliment.”
Violet: “I must’ve have said it wrong.”

Cora: “I hate to go behind Robert’s back.”
Violet: “That is a scruple no successful wife can afford.”

Cora: “Are we to be friends, then?”
Violet: “We are allies, my dear, which can be a good deal more effective.”

Violet: “Good heavens, what am I sitting on?”
Matthew: “A swivel chair.”
Violet: “Oh. Another modern brain wave?”
Matthew: “Not very modern, they were invented by Thomas Jefferson.”
Violet: “Why does every day involve a fight with an American?”

Rosamond: “I’m sorry Mama, but you know me. I have to say what I think.”
Violet: “Why? Nobody else does.”

Anna Karenina

2011-02-27T00:09:00.010-06:00

Two down, two to go of the Russian big four! Last year was Crime & Punishment, but The Brothers Karamazov and War & Peace will likely take another two years. As I noted in my intro review to Russian literature last year, it is quite different from the English works of the time. Anna Karenina confirmed that opinion. Tolstoy and Dostoevsky were way ahead of their English counterparts when it came to stream of consciousness, and the internal exploration of their characters. It’s a little offsetting to see a novel of manners treated in such a different style than I’m used to, and with a different culture.

I’m not sure why Tolstoy chose to name the story Anna Karenina, because Anna represents only one half of the story. Konstantin Levin, a friend of Anna’s brother, is an equally weighted protagonist. There are dozens of characters in the novel, but the main threads and psychological depth revolve around Anna and Levin and the strings that connect them. Levin’s determination at the opening is to propose to the young princess Kitty Sherbatsky, but she loves the dashing Count Vronsky, who she doesn’t know has no intention of marriage, enjoying only the vanity of being adored. Soon however, Vronsky abandons Kitty for the greater challenge and attraction of the passionate Anna, Kitty’s brother-in-law’s sister, who is in a strained marriage with a stoic statesman, and whose only joy in life is in her devotion to her young son.

Tolstoy explores such themes as marriage, jealousy, infidelity, faith, emotional expression, and moral judgment. But he so immerses his narrative voice into the consciousness of his characters that there is no narrative judgment or moralizing. Underneath, the book is about the minutia of relationships, about how, even in the happy ones where two people live in harmony and think they understand one another, they always see the world a different way, through the lens of their own reality. Their actions may be in complete harmony, but their thoughts never are. This novel is a perfect depiction of one of my favorite lines from Dickens: “A Wonderful fact to reflect upon, that every human creature is constituted to be that profound secret and mystery to every other.”

We see this time and time again, first in the interactions between Anna and her husband, Alexei Alexandrovich (the conversation where Anna first lies to her husband hit me like a ton of bricks). Then, with Anna and her lover, Count Vronsky. Finally, between Levin and Kitty. This is how the world really is. People don’t understand each other, even when they love each other. Even when they think they understand each other, it’s just their outward selves, not their innermost thoughts. How can we possibly understand each other when we can’t even understand ourselves? That is one aspect of the conclusion Levin comes to during his epiphany at the end of the novel--but he realizes he doesn’t need to understand, he just needs to live.

This novel feels to be a living, breathing organism more than a work of fiction. The characters are so well done they could be living right next door (if you lived in 19th century Russia, of course). Unfortunately, that also means you have to sit through their politics, philosophies, and other discussion just as you would with high minded friends sitting in your own living room. Just as I know when it’s safe to space out of a conversation and still be able to give the obligatory reactions, I’ve become an expert at skimming those portions. Because let’s face it, this is not 800 pages of plot. There are only a handful of big events in the story, but it’s slow pace serves to echo the natural progression of a real life. It portrays the full spectrum of human thought and activity, not just in the realm of romantic love, as is depicted so often in English novels. All that seemingly extraneous stuff absolutely needs to be in the novel to feed Levin’s realization at the end. We have to be able to see the sum of his life as he sees it. And that ending is Powerful, with a capital P (that stands for pool ;).

Tolstoy’s novel is much less rigidly structured than other panoramic novels I’ve read. The different character threads touch on the same themes, but the parallels between the characters, such as Dolly’s and Anna’s situations with their bad marriages, are not symmetrical. Tolstoy doesn’t try to fit his threads in moral or thematic boxes; their sum is more like a tree with irregular branches.

Particularly interesting is the comparison of Anna’s and Levin’s stories. Their immediate contrast is that one story is about a downfall and the other is about an ascent. But they are nothing alike! Why do they even belong in the same novel? I don’t know, but it works. The only thing close to it I’ve ever read is George Eliot’s Daniel Deronda. In fact, the novel throughout recalled Middlemarch more than anything else in that, like Tolstoy, Eliot allows her characters to think outside the realm of family and romantic relationships, with a psychological realism that Dickens couldn’t even match.

I can’t gush about the plot too much because I don’t want to spoil, but I absolutely loved Levin’s story. Unremarkable on the surface, he's a passionate guy who is often uncomfortable around people, but genuine and honest in his dealings with himself and others. At times he’s tiresome, but that’s what makes him so identifiable a character. I wanted to applaud Kitty for seeing his value, even while still infatuated with someone else. Throughout the novel it’s obvious that Levin is searching for something (and not just a wife), but exactly what doesn’t come out clearly until he actually recognizes it himself. There’s such a feeling of rightness about his whole experience.

Anna, on the other hand, I never loved (I felt her duplicitous from the beginning, with her handling of the situation between her brother and his wife Dolly), but felt an increasing fascination and sympathy for, the deeper she dug her moral and emotional pit.

Major Spoiler Alert!
I also found myself growing in sympathy for Vronsky, even while I knew their relationship had come about as a result of vanity and deceit. See, Tolstoy doesn’t lie about their relationship. They truly loved each other, and could have been happy had circumstances been different (only as happy as you can be in an illicit relationship, of course). They just waited too long to try to make things right. Particularly, I felt for Vronsky during Anna’s breakdown and after her death. He was genuinely trying to salvage their relationship even while feeling restricted by it, where Anna’s jealous frenzy was sabotaging it. She killed herself partly to punish him, and she definitely succeeded. Knowing the basic plot of her story, but not any of the particulars before I read the novel, I was surprised at how much sympathy Vronsky’s situation called for.
End Spoiler

I’ll end from a short snippet of one of the most beautiful passages in fiction:

“This new feeling hasn’t changed me, hasn’t made me happy or suddenly enlightened, as I dreamed...Nor was there any surprise. And faith or not faith--I don’t know what it is--but this feeling has entered into me just as imperceptibly through suffering and has firmly lodged itself in my soul.

“I’ll get angry in the same way..., argue in the same way, speak my mind inappropriately, there will be the same wall between my soul’s holy of holies and other people, even my wife, I’ll accuse her in the same way of my own fear and then regret it, I’ll fail in the same way to understand with my reason why I pray, and yet I will pray--but my life now, my whole life, regardless of all that may happen to me, every minute of it, is not only not meaningless, as it was before, but has the unquestionable meaning of the good which it is in my power to put into it!”

I went to New York City!

2011-02-23T18:51:00.007-06:00

*Sister has written such a good post about the Broadway shows already, that I don't think I need to add to it. This post is about everything else!

I'm not sure why, but New York City has never been on my travel radar. So when my sister asked me on my birthday if I wanted to go with her and a couple of friends in two weeks, my first thought was “New York in January? You're crazy!” The more I thought about it though, the more it sounded like a good idea. Tourist crowds are thinner in the winter (and believe me, they were thick enough as it was). Hotels and plane tickets are cheaper. Spiderman: Turn off the Dark is previewing (my dad's company is producing the show). Once I cleared it at work, we were all set.

Tuesday
The trip to New York was pretty uneventful, except that the police came onto the plane at one point, looking for a woman (she wasn't on it), and a girl in front of me who looked suspiciously like Lady Gaga. I know she wasn't, but she had bleached hair, thick makeup, a flamboyant leopard jacket with high black boots, and even the nose. I flew to Dallas Monday night, and we left for NY at the crack of dawn on Tuesday. Once there in early afternoon we had to endure a crowded bus ride from LaGuardia to Uptown Manhattan, where our hotel was.

So, the Marrakech. It was cheap, and you get what you pay for. There were two beds all right, but they were nowhere near resembling queen size. We noticed that the narrow, creaky halls (with striped carpet) were lopsided, but we didn't realize the extent of the uneven floors until we tried to sleep and were practically sliding off our beds. The heat was sweltering at night, trying to make up for how cold it was outside, I suppose. The bathroom was so tiny you could barely stand in it. We made due though, and by the end I had a little affection for that hotel room, a big part of it being that it was just a few steps from a subway stop and a grocery. Convenience is key. Diana told us after we left that she noticed a policeman in the lobby when we first checked in, talking about a broken chain from a break in the night before. I'm glad she didn't say anything while we were actually staying there!

Food was of the essence, so we looked around the neighborhood for sustenance before embarking on our other adventures. We found a little place called Cheesy Pizza, and guess what they served—really cheesy pizza! Despite being super greasy, it was good enough that I craved it the next day.

Emily had booked us tickets to The Fantasticks that night, figuring it would be a good bet since it's the longest running musical in the world. We had a few hours before the show started, so we became acquainted with the subway, knocking two buildings off mine and Diana's “to see” lists, Grand Central Station and the New York Public Library. Both were beautiful buildings. I also remembered one of the things I love best about big cities—street musicians! Or in this case, subway musicians. That first night we saw an entire band, with one playing the pan flute. Then we saw The Fantasticks, one of the FOUR SHOWS I saw while in New York.

Wednesday
We thought we were being so indulgent by planning a 10am bus tour for Wednesday so we could sleep in. But how hard was it to get up the next morning! We also didn't quite know how to dress for New York city, yet. I brought plenty of winter wear, but figured I wouldn't need long johns that day, since the bus would be heated, right? WRONG! The bus was freezing, and it was virtually impossible to avoid stepping on slushy street corners and getting our toes soaked. I was not so fortunate to own a pair of watertight boots that I could bring, and wouldn't have had room in my suitcase anyway. But before I get too far into the tour, let me take a moment to pay tribute to the man in the red hood. As we came to the tour bus and asked if we were at the right one, the man in the red hood called to us saying, “you don't want to get on that bus”. When we didn't pay attention to him, he proceeded to get in Emily's face and call her a colorful string of insults and racial slurs, beginning with the only appropriate word to mention, “arrogant”. Eventually he ran out of creative ideas and every other word began with “f”. When the tour guide came out of the bus and said that he called the police, the man pulled a wad of cash out of his pocket and claimed that Emily had dropped it and that he only wanted to give it back to her, but she didn't listen to him. “I'm gonna keep the money now, it's mine!” Yes sir, you can keep your money, and your mouth to yourself. What would it be like to pass through life feeling nothing but such anger?

Back to the cold bus tour. The tour guide said that the company responds well to customer feedback, and Emily took that as an opportunity to call them and complain about the broken bus heater. I am glad she doesn't have any qualms about making her voice known, because they said they would switch our bus out for another! In the meantime, we saw the Strawberry Fields part of snowy Central Park, with the Imagine monument; the Flat Iron Building and surrounding neighborhood, Wall Street, Trinity Church, and Rockefeller Center. The tour guide held up a red lightsaber at every stop so we wouldn't lose sight of him. As we were leaving the Rockefeller area, an Italian family asked if the bus could wait for them while the wife looked for a new pair of boots (hers were leaking). The tour guide's reaction told me that we were not in Texas anymore. We did end up waiting 10 minutes or so, and she did find some boots, but we couldn't help muttering the rest of the time about how our feet were cold and we too, and we didn't get new boots.

At some point, Emily began chatting with a highly entertaining Australian guy who was just hitting a few cities in the U.S. Before moving to London. He'd certainly never seen snow like what we were experiencing. And he likes to jog around Sydney Opera House! I'm jealous--that's such a lovely building. We stopped at a food court on the bay for lunch before the ferry portion of our tour. The first food place we passed had an adorable little Chinese boy handing out samples, prompted by his mother. He won us over, and we ate Chinese Cajun wraps for lunch.

The ferry took us past the Statue of Liberty and Ellis Island, and dropped us off in the financial district of Manhattan. Our next stop was Ground Zero, over which I was a lot more contemplative than I thought I would be. Our tour guide told us several stories of people he knows who were in the area on 9/11. Freedom Tower, as it was once called, is now about halfway built. Nothing will be built over the footprints of the fallen Trade Towers, though.

Despite the cold, the tour was worth the time and money. We saw parts of the city that we would have never made it to otherwise, and got a better sense of where things were, what things mean. I don't remember much of what our guide talked about, but it was an entertaining experience in itself to just listen to him give tidbits of history and culture. And it was good to not be trekking around the city on our own that day, since it was snowing and icing lightly all day.

On the way back, Broadway tickets were our priority! Diana and Emily were booked to see The Lion King, but Sister and I saw that last year so we opted for something different. Wicked was my first choice, but Sister had already seen it, and tickets weren't available at the half price booth. Some old man was selling Wicked tickets on the street and I was tempted, but we felt uncomfortable with that (and found out later that it's illegal). We ended up getting 5th row seats for Phantom of the Opera! Coincidentally, that day, the 26th of January, was the 23rd anniversary of it's opening!

Before the show, I took a nap at the hotel while Sister went jogging in Central Park (she's training for a marathon next month). The park is so snowy though, that it's virtually impossible to find landmarks. She came out on the opposite side of the park and jogged due east, until the shadiness of the neighborhood told her that she was not going the right direction. Luckily we both had our cell phones and I had a map to get her back safely. After eating Cheesy Pizza again, we ended the night with the show!

Thursday
Thursday we had a ferry and tickets to the Statue of Liberty crown booked, but luckily we called ahead that morning—the ferries were closed for the day due to bad weather! We rescheduled for Friday, and decided to make that our museum day. We were all headed to The Metropolitan Museum of Art, but Sister and I split off to go to the Cloisters first, since it's in the uppermost part of Manhattan, away from everything else we had planned. Getting to the Cloisters was an adventure. Our subway didn't stop at the station we needed, so we ended up trekking through Harlem early that morning while the sidewalks were still being shoveled. Three feet of snow, I kid you not! We did our best to avoid getting our shoes wet at the curbs, but weren't very successful. We also tried to avoid the guys leering at us out on the street.

The Cloisters is a branch of the Met, holding the chief medieval art collection. It is made up of pieces of genuine medieval French monasteries. It stands up on a hill on the riverside, which means it was extra difficult to get to. The main trails were shoveled, but the steps up the side of the hill were just beginning to be. We had to be careful to kick our way into the stairs for footholds. The museum was worth it, though. Aside from the Broadway shows it was my favorite part of the trip. I'm not a medieval art fanatic, but the era's architecture is one of my great loves. The art was interesting too, having explanatory plaques, as opposed to in Europe where you have to have a guide tell you about it. I got to refresh my memory of a few things, and Sister's questions really tested my knowledge. The most interesting pieces, aside from the actual cloisters and stained glass, were medieval playing cards, and the beautiful Unicorn Tapestries. We were the only people in the museum, and one of the attendants asked us how we even got there! That's when we found out that schools all over Manhattan were cancelled.

We saw the results of the school snow day as we crossed Central Park on the way to the Met. Hundreds of kids were sliding down a slope, with colorful plastic sleds. Snowmen were everywhere, and they were actually as tall as real people, as opposed to the dwarfs you find here in the south. Right next to the Castle Belvedere is a pond, which was of course covered in snow. What I want to know is how there were tracks through that snow. Was the pond really frozen that thoroughly? There were also snowdrifts suspiciously stained yellow, which we hope can be attributed to the dogs.

The Met is one of those museums that you can't possibly expect to absorb in one visit. We ran through in 2 hours, hitting the high points of Greek and Roman sculpture, modern art, and the armory. Side note: Emily has lived in Europe, and has had her fill of museums—more than her fill, since she isn't an art fanatic like some of us. She mentioned that upon seeing the David in Florence, she was more interested in whether Michelangelo had circumcised him than anything else, since that was a controversial point, being a Jewish subject by an Italian Renaissance artist. Once we found the fountain full of coins, featured in From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, I couldn't help wondering if the Roman statues around were circumcised. I'm pretty sure they're not, but as I'm no expert on male anatomy, I can't be sure. While looking at a sculpture I noticed an artist penciling it. His drawing was so beautiful I had to get a shot of it, too.

Sister was tired, but I wanted a quick run through of the Asian art on the 2nd floor. The map is so confusing though, that I couldn't figure out how to get there without going through every single other gallery on the level. This made me so cranky we figured it was time to leave.

Spiderman was the show that Sister and I booked before we left. We both took naps (and blowdried our shoes) before heading off to dinner and to the show. For convenience's sake, we ate at the Hard Rock on Times Square and felt really lame for it when we had so much other food to choose from. The burgers weren't even that good. Then, to Spiderman!

Friday
The ferries were running again! Funny, because the weather really wasn't any different. It didn't snow more, but what was outside certainly hadn't melted. There were no spots left for the climb up to the crown of the statue, but we were able to go up the pedestal. The museum inside the pedestal was a lot more interesting than I expected. Why was I surprised? It's about the history of a sculpture, a gift, a structure, an icon! We'd been teasing Diana about being so pokey in museums, so even though I wished I could spend more time in the museum, I didn't want to hold everyone up. Ditto with the Immigration Museum on Ellis Island, the next ferry stop. It was fascinating and I could've spent hours there.

We all went to the Brooklyn Bridge, but decided to split, since we were all going different paces. Sister wanted to walk the entire mile, and I only went 2/3 of the way to the 2nd pylon. Emily and Diana walked really slow because of swollen feet, and didn't go very far out at all. The bridge was covered in snow in the middle section between the two pylons, but the view was wonderful. Sister jogged part of the way while I paused to take pictures, so it worked out that we could meet in the middle and walk back together. Emily and Diana were long gone to the Empire State Building by that time.

We were bound uptown for the Guggenheim Museum, but stopped in Little Italy for lunch. We ordered gnocchi and Seafood Risotto at a delicious restaurant whose name I can't remember. I always order gnocchi when I can (which is not often), and felt we should have a seafood dish since we were on the coast. Both were divinely delicious! The gnocchi was flavored with gorgonzola sauce, and the Risotto had calamari, shrimp, mussels, and clams. We split both dishes between us and stuffed ourselves to the max, deciding that a light yogurt would do for dinner. This was the only quality dinner we had in NY, but I'm satisfied.

While we waited for our dinner, Lisa called the ticketmaster and got us tickets to Wicked that night for a decent price. We hiked back across Central Park to the hotel (after finding that most of the Guggenheim galleries were closed), took naps, blowdried our shoes, ate groceries for dinner, and went to the show! Wicked was my favorite of the four, but each show was spectacular in its own way. We had a fiasco trying to get back to the hotel that night, since the subway stop we tried to take shut down at 11.

Saturday
Saturday morning we opted for a cab back to the airport, rather than repeating the bus experience. Luckily, a larger cab happened to be right on our block. Our suitcases probably wouldn't have fit in a sedan cab. The flight home was uneventful until I finally reached home after a delayed flight from Dallas. Then my luggage was missing! It got misdirected to Tuscon, but Southwest kindly gave me a $50 credit. All in all, a highly successful trip. Next up, Milwaukee!

Possible Hiatus

2011-01-20T10:26:00.002-06:00

I may be taking a hiatus from this blog for the next month or two, because I'll be updating this one! I started perusing my old Italy journal the other night while on the phone with a friend, and it dawned on me that there were too many great and funny memories not to type up and share. So if you are in desperate need of some reading material, please join me Over the Tuscan Rainbow.

The best birthday ever!

2011-01-13T20:40:00.003-06:00

Yesterday was a fabulous day. I made absolutely no plans for my birthday. I used to have a roommate who liked any excuse to throw a party, but I don't have that luxury anymore, and it's lame to throw yourself a party. Not that I even wanted one. You always feel like you have to invite everyone you know to a birthday party, and then it's so crowded it's awkward. So I opted for a quiet day doing what I usually do.

First of all, I slept in until 8am, an extra 30 minutes (instead of the extra 15 minutes I usually take). I went to work, and while I worked I rewatched episodes of Firefly (when the mind is occupied through a mundane task, it increases my productivity). That alone made it a stellar day. That morning via office chat, a friend asked if I wanted to go to lunch, and since I woke up too late to make my lunch, I was game. Thai Pepper was the destination--one of my very favorite places to eat! When I got there, I found not one, but three friends. One of them gave me flowers, a welcome breath of spring to that cold winter day. I wasn't adventurous with the food, going with the familiar deliciousness of Pad Thai. Although Massaman Curry was so tempting. There is something so great about going to lunch with your friends. I wish I could do it more often.

I came home and my roommie made me a chocolate cake! I didn't exercise. In fact, due to the cold I think I'm taking this entire week off from physical exertion. Despicable Me came in the mail, and roommie and I watched it, then chatted with a couple more friends who came over. And I missed most of my family's calls because I left my phone in the bedroom. When I remembered it, I found this birthday voicemail from my brother: "We are the knights who say--Ni!"

My sister also asked me if I wanted to go to New York in two weeks--we're totally going!

It was a good day.

Two films that would've been in my top 10...

2011-01-10T22:09:00.010-06:00

if I’d watched them in time! Unless 2011 has an unlikely number of movies I love, these two will certainly be in my top movies next December.

True Grit - Pretty much everything has been said about this film by the critics. It’s awesome. Fourteen year old Arkansian Mattie Ross wants to avenge her father’s murder, and won’t quit until she convinces the one-eyed, trigger-happy, drunkard Marshal Ruben “Rooster” Cogburn to not only hunt the killer down, but let her accompany him on the journey. They are joined by Texas Ranger LaBoeuf, also hot on the killer’s trail. The Coen Brothers found a perfect balance between comedy and creepout. It’s not filled with action--much of it is the contentiously entertaining interactions of the three “good guys”--but it’s remarkably well paced, with a fabulous finale. Jeff Bridges rocks as Cogburn (I'm going to have to watch it again with subtitles to catch all of his dialogue), Matt Damon plays a solid LaBoeuf, and Josh Brolin makes the most of his little screen time as the wimpy killer Chaney. Barry Pepper as Ned Pepper is a wild scene stealer. The film hinges on Hailee Steinfeld though, and she is a revelation as the headstrong Mattie. There probably won’t be another part worth her while for 10 or 15 years, unfortunately. Some of the most beautiful cinematography I’ve seen in years (but a western without great cinematography is an automatic fail). Between my mom, dad, sister, and I, we have pretty different taste and we all loved it. I want to watch the old John Wayne version again, but I’ll wait a couple of months so it won’t suffer in comparison.

Creation - I definitely didn’t expect to love this as much as I did--I almost even took it off my Netflix queue because I thought it would depress me. Creation is about Charles Darwin (Paul Bettany) during the years he wrote On the Origin of Species. During the film, Darwin is suffering from ambiguous health issues and a near-estrangement from his wife (Jennifer Connelly), while grieving over the death of their 10 year old daughter. Urged on by both his friends (Toby Jones and Benedict Cumberbatch--don’t you just love saying his name? Benedict Cumberbatch!) and visions of his dead Annie, Darwin struggles over whether he should continue his work, knowing what an impact his findings will have on his theologically-based society. Despite his decline of faith, he still feels that God will punish him as if his book were a personal attack on deity. The star of the show is of course Paul Bettany. He’s been a favorite of mine since his bare backside walked into the streets of A Knight’s Tale (not for that reason though!), and finally he has the lead role to show what he is capable of (Russel Crowe may have more star power, but Bettany and Connelly can act in circles around him, in my book). It’s easy to get tired of a character suffering from consistent inner turmoil, but Bettany never lets us get to that point. The film cuts back and forth between memories (even double memories--the memory of him telling his daughter of his travels, or of his relationship with the orangutan, Jenny) and the present, showing those memories so vividly with him that there’s barely any suspension of belief when he sees his daughter’s “ghost”. The only thing differentiating these layers of time are Bettany’s receding hairline, increased pallor, and telling expressions, but they are enough. Martha West is also luminous as little Annie Darwin.

This film had a delayed release in America and didn’t get much attention, allegedly because the subject matter is a cause of controversy for religious Americans. Which is stupid in the first place. This film is more honest in its treatment of religion than 90% of the movies I see (it's actually there for one, and it's not stereotyped as the bad guy). Darwin never professes an atheistic worldview, although his theories contradict what the Anglican church teaches at the time (he was agnostic by the end of his life). Emma Darwin, played with depth and elegance by Jennifer Connelly, holds firm Christian beliefs and wonders whether she will be separated from her husband in the afterlife, but she is portrayed just as sympathetically as is Darwin. Even the preacher (Jeremy Northam!), who punishes Darwin’s daughter for repeating things her father taught her, is treated with sympathy. In the end, Creation is about love, grief, and pursuing knowledge in the face of fear. It is one of those films that may be sad, but fills you with a sense of triumph from its characters and its depiction of nature and humanity.

Resolutions for the New Year!

2011-01-06T20:19:00.007-06:00

I like to keep my goals basic and solidly in the realm of doability.

Health

Work out 2-3 times a week
Eat vegetables more consistently (like cabbage, green beans, and sweet potatoes!)
Limit sweet intake (don’t be such a pig!)

Spiritual Nourishment

Form a scripture study plan by the end of January, and stick with it (as opposed to straight reading)
Keep up with institute readings (even getting on the email list would be an improvement)
Read Sunday School and Relief Society Lessons

Write 15 minutes a day, 5 days a week (already working out splendidly)

Write a letter to my missionary friend at least once a month

Soundtracks of 2010

2011-01-02T15:44:00.000-06:00

Time for a soundtrack Geek-Out! I haven’t done this in a few years, but I was looking for some new stuff to listen to several months ago, and went on a soundtrack review spree. Did that yield results! Most of these are scores I would’ve never found on my own, since I will never watch the associated films. How grateful I am for film music. It has inspired me in ways that popular music never can.

1. How to Train Your Dragon, John Powell (2010) - There is nothing subtle about this score, but it is far and away my favorite of the year. John Powell may pile on the brass, but the themes are great and the music has such a festive tone you can’t help but love it. The stand out tracks are Forbidden Friendship and Test Drive, but the entire thing, save the few token discordant battle tracks, are a joy to listen to. Even though the story is about vikings, I don’t begrudge the Scottish sound. Animated fantasies can’t be too culturally particular, and the varied instrumentation is what makes the melodies so consistently entertaining. This is the best animated movie score that I’ve heard since James Horner’s work in the ‘80s, and it’s certainly one of the most epic.

2. The Last Airbender, James Newton Howard (2010) - Let’s get this out of the way first: this is a terrible movie. I don’t know how Howard got inspiration from it, but The Last Airbender has one of the most beautiful and complete soundtracks I’ve heard in years. Flow Like Water is simply amazing. Where a lot of composers these days don’t fully develop their themes, leaving them hanging as incomplete cues (which is why I so love John Williams’ suites), Flow Like Water takes a gorgeous melody, builds to the maximum string intensity, then pushes it some more. When it is pushed until it can build no farther, it changes motion so the momentum is kept up even longer. The awesomeness of that track is what puts it at #2, but the rest of the soundtrack is great as well, with uncharacteristically listenable action music.

3. Restoration, James Newton Howard (1995) - Howard is not at his best only when working with Shyamalan, I’ve discovered! This period score is a forgotten gem from a film I’d never heard of. Granted, half of the soundtrack is Henry Purcell’s Baroque era compositions. But Howard takes Purcell’s “If Love’s A Sweet Passion”, with the traditional European tune “La Folia” (it’s most known rendering being Handel’s Sarabande), intertwining them and varying them along with his own original theme, and then dramatizing them into a truly moving listening experience.

4. Troy (rejected score), Gabriel Yared (2004) - The question soundtrack enthusiasts have been asking for the past few years is, “Why was Yared’s score rejected?” I adore this composition, but I can see why. The style hearkens back to the historical epics of the 1950s and ‘60s, and the sound is probably too overwhelming for a modern film. Despite that, this music is marvelous. As my sister describes it, it sounds just as much like an oratorio as a film score. It sounds like it could accompany a reading of the Iliad, for instance. When you listen to Approach of the Greeks, you can feel the Greeks approaching. The two love themes are negligible, but the choral work in the rest is epic. No other way to describe it.

5. Partition, Brian Tyler (2007) - Tyler is one of my favorites for one credential: Children of Dune. I so love that score that I bought Partition having listened to only a few bits. The first few listens I called it “Children of Dune lite" because the feel is so similar, but my estimation has only grown from there. Tyler perfectly balances the western film score tradition with Indian instrumental influences. The score registers powerful joy and longing, although the overall tone leans to somber. Tyler’s style recalls an early James Horner (when he was good), particularly Star Trek, although I’m not sure why. His battle music also reminds me of Horner, but it is more listenable.

6. New Moon, Alexandre Desplat (2009) - Another example of why film music shouldn’t be judged by its movie, because this lyrical, sensitive score is way too good for the Twilight franchise. I am more and more impressed with Desplat, and think he, if anyone, could inherit John Williams’ place in the world of film music in sheer versatility if nothing else. But bits of New Moon do remind me of Williams’ Angela’s Ashes, a very good thing. The main theme is also really fun to play on the piano.

8. The Mission, Ennio Morricone (1986) - This is an established classic. Everyone has heard part of it, if they watched anything related to the Winter 2002 Olympics, or watch movie trailers. The best way to describe it would be to refer you to Jack Black. Yes, it really does come from another place. My favorite track is River.

7. Arsene Lupin, Debbie Wiseman (2004) - At once pulpy, mysterious, jazzy and gothic, this score is like no other I’ve heard. And it’s the only non-corsets-and-teacups score written by a woman that I’ve really liked. That is a feat, and I’ll be keeping my eye on Wiseman--I would love to see what she could do with a Sherlock Holmes film, instead of another of Zimmer's tired excuses for compositions. Too bad this score isn’t even available in America.

9. Eastern Promises, Howard Shore (2007) - I don’t know if Shore has another Lord of the Rings in him, but this low-key score is haunting, with a solo violin playing mysterious in a way that only the violin can. The best two tracks are the Main Theme, and Tatiana.

10. Out of Africa/Chaplin, John Barry (1985/1991)- John Barry of James Bond fame wrote another all time favorite soundtrack, Dances With Wolves. He’s a composer whose music is so distinctly gorgeous that I need to get a “fix” every once in a while. Chaplin is a wistful, nostalgic score that easily fills that need, and also features a John Barry adaptation of Chaplin's Smile. Out of Africa, on the other hand, has a wonderfully complex and beautiful theme which, like The Mission, seems to reach beyond terrestrial existence.

Honorable Mention: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Alexandre Desplat (2010) - this one isn’t nearly as thematically unified as I was expecting, and that is a disappointment. It gives the film no musical identity at all, but Desplat still shows his capability in each track. It is a very pleasant score to listen to.

Favorite Track: Sunshine (Adagio in D Minor), from Sunshine, by John Murphy (2007) - The first time I heard this track I thought, “It’s the same as mourning Gandalf!” (the end of the Khazad-Dum track from Fellowship of the Ring). It is the same chord progression, but I am amazed that the same chords can never fail to be so sublime. This piece simultaneously captures both the majesty and monstrosity of the surface of the sun.

Films of 2010

2010-12-31T17:19:00.008-06:00

It looks increasingly like I won’t be seeing True Grit until the new year (meaning tomorrow). What a shame, because I’m pretty sure it would’ve been on this list. Films are always tough to rate because there are so many reasons to like them, and because usually don't see some of the best until a year or two after they're released. And I’m bored with trying to objectify a totally subjective list. But here it is.

1. Slumdog Millionaire** (2008) - I actually saw this last year, but couldn’t decide what I thought of it so I left it off. Now it really deserves an essay (which I won’t write, as I’m sure there are hoards out there), because even though it's too disturbing to watch often, this film is fabulous. A mixture of east and west, it features highly stylistic western filmmaking (with a tribute to Bollywood over the closing credits), but an eastern, fate-driven tale. The plot may echo Dickens, but the love story is distinctly Indian. Slumdog is Dickens for the 21st century, with Mumbai recalling his picture of London, with its social chaos, momentum, and technological progress. Contemporary society’s obsession with reality television, instant fame, and fast wealth serve as a vehicle for this rags-to-riches variation.

2. Inception (2010) - I still haven’t seen this a second time, but I stand by my first opinion. The hype of it being “mindblowing” is unjustified, but as thriller it excels--one of the best films of the year.

3. Toy Story 3 (2010) - This third and last chapter of the Toy Story saga is as wonderful as the other two, and it's at its best when it cashes in on the history between the characters. But now that Toy Story is done, Pixar feels they must make sequels to Cars and Monsters Inc., too. Not sure how I feel about that. Could it be a sign that they're running out of ideas?

4. The Kid (1921), The Circus (1928), City Lights (1931), Modern Times (1936) - I am not usually a silent film fan, but Charlie Chaplin is a genius and as of three months ago, I adore his films. This realist never understood the appeal of The Tramp until I watched Chaplin, the biopic starring Robert Downey Jr., and his sentimental genius dawned on me. Chaplin’s films have such a pitch perfect mixture of hilarity and heartrending moments. The Kid and City Lights have the best individual scenes (respectively, where child protective services takes the little boy away from the Tramp, and when the formerly Blind Girl recognizes her benefactor). The Circus is the funniest, but Modern Times is all around my favorite.

5. District 9** (2009) - A strange but smart allegory of apartheid, featuring aliens in South Africa. The lack of known actors and documentary style give it a great sense of urgency and realism, and I love the unexpectedly hopeful ending. If Peter Jackson’s name hadn’t been attached to this project it probably wouldn’t have gotten any attention, but it deserves the praise.

6. Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time (2010) - It’s no Pirates of the Caribbean, but this film succeeds at a number of levels. Jake Gyllenhall’s eyes: check. Screwball-reminiscent love story: check (Gemma Arterton may be annoying, but as a screwball comedy lover, I can attest that one of the principal players always is). Cheesy fraternal bonds: check. Gorgeous costumes and scenery: check. Bad CGI to keep the story from being taken seriously: check. I loved this film.

7. Harry Potter 7.1, Tangled, and How to Train Your Dragon (2010) - I couldn’t choose between these three, but I feel justified in putting them in one spot since everyone has seen them. Tangled could’ve done without the “modernizing” narration, but it's still a sweet story and a visual feast. Harry Potter 7.1 is still just another Harry Potter film, but it's the best of ‘em by far. How to Train Your Dragon has some of the annoying cliches that most animated films have, but it too, is a visual treat with a solid story. And flying.

Here’s where the choices became harder. There were many other films I enjoyed immensely for what they were (Terminator Salvation and Live Free or Die Hard). There is the technically brilliant, but soulless The Social Network. The fresh, but bitter 500 Days of Summer; the fabulously weird Primer (if you want a REAL mindbending film, watch this one). The impressionist, neo-mythical Ondine, and the amusingly quirky Fantastic Mr. Fox. So these last three picks are pretty arbitrary.

8. An Education* (2009) - Carey Mulligan and this film won enough accolades that I don’t need to elaborate. I didn’t think the story of a teenager being seduced by the lifestyle of an older man who isn’t exactly what he seems could be treated with such elegance. I love it when titles have double meanings.

9. The Young Victoria (2009) - Same for Emily Blunt. She was great in this telling of the story of Queen Victoria and her husband Albert, also played well by Rupert Friend, who I used to call an Orlando Bloom wannabe. The only fault I found with the film was that it was treated in too much of a survey fashion for emotional continuity.

10. Arranged (2007) - This doesn’t have much to offer for repeat viewings, but as I said before, it is a good take on modern attitudes toward arranged marriages and other religious traditions.

*Mild content warning
**I watched an edited version

**********************************

Foreign Films of 2010

This part is always more fun, because these are the films that no one else has ever heard of, and for that reason it's easier to follow my gut feeling.

1. Dor [String] (2006, India) - I watched this solely because Ayesha Takia is adorable, and my expectations were exceeded. When one woman’s husband is accused of murder, she can only save his life by obtaining a signed pardon from the dead man’s widow. What begins as a desperate act turns into an unforeseen friendship and opportunity for the two women.

2. Wake Up Sid (2009, India) - This film is one of the few Bollywood films that successfully apes the western style while keeping it’s Indian heart in tact. Ranbir Kapoor is a perpetual adolescent who falls for older, responsible girl Konkona Sen Sharma, and it changes both their lives. They are magic.

3. 3 Idiots (2009, India) - this tale of friendship and following dreams proves that Aamir Khan still hasn’t lost his touch, even if he is still playing a college age kid.

4. Taare Zameen Par [Like Stars on Earth] (2007, India) - Another Aamir Khan gem, but the real star of this show is a little boy who suffers from dyslexia before anything is known about the disability in public education. His struggles are brilliantly depicted visually. It gets melodramatic at places, but that didn’t stop the film from getting a standing ovation at the International Dyslexic Association Conference.

5. Ponyo (2008, Japan) - This film is more random and saccharine than most of Miyazaki’s works, but it is still a sweet variation on The Little Mermaid. Only in anime can children find “true love” with one another.

6. La Gloire de mon pere/Le Chateau de ma mere [My Father's Glory/My Mother's Castle] (1990, France) - These films are a slow paced, but beautiful depiction of family anecdotes and the adventures of childhood during the holidays in the countryside. Aside from Amelie, these may be the happiest French films I've ever seen. That's saying something.

7. Delhi-6 (2009, India) - I didn’t really know where this film was going when I watched it, but the story about an Americanized NRI returning to India to visit his grandmother, and becoming involved in the religious tensions of the area, ended up being quite interesting. The directorial style and A.R Rahman’s winning songs made the movie. I much preferred it to Rang De Basanti, a youth terrorist film by the same director that everyone raved about in 2006.

8. Magadheera [Brave Warrior] (2009, India) - If you think Bollywood is over the top, take a look to the south. This epic Telugu reincarnation tale made a huge splash. How can I describe it? A motorcycle riding punk brushes the hand of a girl passing in a cab and has momentary visions of a past from centuries before. In a really silly sequence he finds her, falls for her, and with every touch he remembers more of their past life. The intermission screen indicates the best part with “In ten minutes, let’s go back 400 years!” and is followed by an hour of heroic awesomeness on steroids. The film is best summed up in this post from The Soup: “If you see one movie where a jeep flies into a helicopter, make it this one.” Yes, the jeep even has a cape.

9. Children of Heaven (1997, Iran) - the trouble with Iranian films is that they all end tragically--even if it is a happy ending. I had to read comments to decipher what the point of this ending was. Nevertheless, it is a sweet tale of a brother who must share his shoes with his sister when he accidentally loses hers. He signs up for a race in which one of the winners’ prizes is a new pair of sneakers.

10. La Belle et la Bete [Beauty & the Beast] (1946, France) - This movie is so creepy and weird, and the ending makes no sense. But I can see why Jean Cocteau was so influential. I’ve never seen such a unique visual sense in any film that old, and it’s obvious that the Disney film took a few pages out of his book. Here’s an iconic image of the candelabra arms.

Merry Christmas!

2010-12-29T10:58:00.013-06:00

Now that our celebration of Christmas has actually happened, I'm going to write about it! First of all, we didn't open presents on Christmas day. my brother and his family couldn't come until the 27th, so we decided not to split the festivities. Half the gifts were for my nephews, anyway.

Christmas Eve Dad and Sister drove down to CS and back to get Grandpa. We were going to have a Christmas devotional that night and read about the birth of Christ, but Mom suggested we postpone it to Christmas day to take place of gift opening. We're so lazy though, it didn't even happen. On Christmas day Sister made a bonafide French meal with a full five courses! First was a delicious salad; then a course of roast duck, along with green beans (the best I've ever tasted) and mashed lentils. After that, we had Vichyssoise, then a pineapple pomegranite salad, and finally a very tarty lemon tart. It was a real treat. Props to the chef!

Later that day, we threw the upstairs into upheaval as we cleaned out Dad's office for Brother's family (with three little boys, they needed a room for themselves). Around 11pm we finally settled into a game of Settlers of Catan. My philosophy when playing games like this: to maximize the fun, all you have to do is act with full confidence that you are going win right up to the moment you lose!

There was a real damper on the holiday spirit Sunday after church. We were talking about how we would manage things with all the family here, including Grandma, who was to travel over on Tuesday with my uncle's friend, when Mom got a phone call from Uncle saying that Grandma was in a car accident and had a few broken bones. That was a worried evening, but Sister, Li'l Sister and I did our best to keep Mom occupied with several games of Bananagrams (fabulous speed-scrabble like game) until we got the latest word on how Grandma was doing.

Monday was occupied with running errands and cleaning the house until we could clean no more! Finally, we all drove to the airport to meet Brother and family. The boys were all so tired, because the time change put them an extra hour past their bedtime.

Tuesday morning Brother, Mom, and Dad all drove to East Texas to see Grandma in the hospital. So far, she is doing well. Grandpa, sisters, and I had a fun day spending time with Sister-in-law and the boys. William just loves Lincoln Logs.

Neil, who stubbornly won't talk much yet, likes "practicing" the vowel sounds at the top of his lungs. He tried every way to get out of taking a nap ever since they got here. He would climb out of the playpen he sleeps in, and just come back downstairs where the action was. A couple of times he even climbed in the crib with the baby! Finally, SisterIL put him on the floor, turned the playpen upside down over him, then put a chair on top of it to keep him from toppling it over. Poor imprisoned Neil cried for a while, but finally fell asleep. He also likes giving his baby brother "hugs" every 5 or 10 minutes. Curtis smiles, and eats, and sleeps, and generally stays quiet--he's such a good baby.

Tuesday evening I went to Garrett and Sallie's wedding reception, which was as fun a crowded as would be expected for those two. I left just as they were having a hula hooping contest!

Finally, this morning we opened presents! I got a scripture case, a DVD, and an amazon gift card, which I will probably use to get the game Pandemic. I found little boxes made of recycled circuit boards for my dad and brothers--Dad loves his! For my nephews I got those pillow pets that are all the rage, apparently. It turns out that it was exactly what William wanted. He has been telling his mom that he wants something soft to sleep with. He hasn't let go of his "bear pillow" ever since he opened it.

The last present we opened was from Grandpa. As Dad was opening it William declared, "I think they got the same thing we did! Daddy's big set of food!" If there's anything that will unite my family, it's food. We all crowded around the chocolates, nuts, cheeses, sausages, and a big plate of super-sweet fudge until our saltine supply was exhausted.

We've just finished watching Mickey's Christmas Carol, which fills the boys' television quota for the day. That little short used to haunt me as a kid. The theme song echoed in my mind like sounds from another world, and the graveyard scene frightened me! When Sister sat next to William, he said "Yes Aunt ---, you can sit with me, and I'll share my bear pillow with you." He's still carrying it. He just set it on a chair and said, "Sorry, I have to go to the bathroom. Make sure no one gets my bear." That's the best Christmas present I could've been given.

Books of 2010

2010-12-26T22:04:00.003-06:00

Merry Christmas, friends! I'll probably write a Christmas post in a few days, when the best of the festivities have actually come to pass (my nephews get here tonight). I won’t be finishing any more novels this year, so I’ll go ahead and post the top ten list. The titles link to my original remarks, if I’ve written about them before.

1. Doomsday Book, by Connie Willis (1993) - I recommended this to my brother and sister, and they loved it, as well, although sister liked it for completely different reasons than I did. She loved the futuristic portions, while I was enthralled by the historical village, and the parallels between the two time periods.

2. Good Masters! Sweet Ladies! Voices from a Medieval Village, by Laura Amy Schlitz (2008) - again, I feel cliche for harboring such a love of works having to do with the Middle Ages, but at least both of these come at it from an oblique angle--they’re not worn out historical fiction. And I love simple but vivid poetry such as this.

3. The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, by Mary Anne Shaffer & Annie Barrows (2009) - The masses speak for this one. It wasn’t a bestseller for no reason. Well written and delightful, this story of wartime survival and friendship is a winner all around.

4. Airborn, by Kenneth Oppel (2005) - another delightful story, but this time of adventure in the high skies of the Edwardian era!

5. Crime & Punishment, by Fyodor Dostoevsky (1866) - An objective reader would have to rate this at the top in quality of course, but I rate books as a combination of how impressed I was, and how much I enjoyed it. This book was not fun to read, but it was certainly the most powerful novels I’ve read, period. Dostoevsky is genius.

7. When You Reach Me, by Rebecca Stead (2009) - This book may start out as you would expect a typical Newbery winner, as your typical coming of age tale of a middle school aged girl, her single mother, but pretty soon you wonder where the narrative is going. Without spoiling anything, I can only say that I loved where it ended up! The characters are increasingly endearing, and there is a twist you don’t see in “serious” juvenile literature very often.

6. Rapunzel’s Revenge, by Shannon Hale & Dean Hale (2008) - This graphic novel, the only one I’ve ever read, was a load of fun. Remember, this was pre-Tangled, so Rapunzel escaping her tower of imprisonment was a novel concept. Better yet, this one has a suedo-Western setting! The story is energetically told, and the colorful illustrations breathe vibrant life into it. Graphic storytelling will never be my favorite medium, but this one is well worthwhile.

8. The Curse of Chalion, by Lois McMaster Bujold (2001) - a beautifully written and conceived story of honor and politics in a Spain-influenced fantasy culture. Why haven’t I read the sequel yet?

9. Elantris, by Brandon Sanderson (2005) - I just finished this one a couple of hours ago. Elantris, another story of politics, religion and magic isn’t as impressive as Sanderson’s Mistborn--but then Elantris was his first adult novel. When Princess Sarene arrives in the neighboring country Arelon for a political wedding with a prince she’s never met, she is shocked to discover that she is already a widow--her fiance has died during her journey, and the marriage contract holds her to the alliance. Sarene also arrived at a time of great instability as priest from an imperialistic religious empire sets out to either convert or destroy Arelon. Meanwhile, Sarene doesn’t know that her fiance, Raoden, isn’t exactly deceased. He has simply been cursed to be an Elantrian, beings belonging to what was once called “city of the Gods”, but have since fallen to become the living dead. While Sarene schemes to counter the threats against Arelon, Raoden must learn how to survive the barbaric Elantris, with their fates eventually crossing. Even though Sanderson’s characters don’t draw me in as well as they could, his stories are engrossing. I am continually impressed by his ability to depict the full strata of a distinct set of cultures, and to explore the basic tenets of human nature along the ride.

10. The Dark is Rising, by Susan Cooper (1973) - I didn’t love this book, but as I had an open #10 spot, I felt I should include it--it is, after all, a children’s fantasy classic. Cooper is an excellent, vivid writer and her story of King Arthur reincarnated as a little boy to fight “the dark”, to put it simply, is well told. It just took me forever to get to because the antagonist force is so faceless and random, and the hero had to endure so much “I’ll tell you only what you need to know” and “You’ll know what to do when the time comes” nonsense. I’m looking forward to the rest of the series, hoping those issues will be minimal.

Four Classic Westerns

2010-12-16T21:12:00.026-06:00

I used to think of westerns as a backward cowboys and Indians “blow ‘em up, shoot ‘em up” or melodramatic extravaganzas of the ‘60s (in retrospect, I must’ve judged all westerns by my mom’s Saturday morning tv shows). Politically incorrect, if nothing else. What it may have come down to, is the knowledge that I would never be able to tell if a depiction was accurate, or not. Political correctness and revisionist depictions have created a doubt in all of us when we see any kind of western stereotype.

Westerns will all have a certain amount of fantasy, but likely no more than accompanies the spy/thriller genre. The great westerns have some of the best character development in film history. They have room to do it because they have less of a preoccupation with being stylish. There’s something about being in the middle of nowhere, unable to lean onto or react to society, that strips man down to his most basic characteristics. Coupled with the romance of the larger than life frontier, I think Westerns were once our own American myths. And what they gave birth to was the fantastical space myth.

The fascination with the expansive west only dimmed when we went to space. With the entry of man into space in the ‘60s, and the introduction of space exploration into our film canon with 2001: A Space Odyssey, Alien, Star Trek and of course Star Wars, the western pretty much died (even the Spaghetti Westerns were on the outs by the time we went to the moon) because there was a new frontier and no romance left in the old one. The only great American westerns told after that were either a tongue-in-cheek homage to stereotype (Silverado), or revisionist (Unforgiven, Dances with Wolves). Firefly and Serenity, I think, cleverly show the relationship between the western and space genres, picking up where Han Solo left off.

Han Solo...........................................................................Mal Reynolds

Now our uniquely American myths, besides superheroes, are in outer space. Could it be that space is what defines American dreams more than anything else? I have no idea. But I recently re-watched four classic westerns, all of which are stellar.

HIGH NOON (1952) - This is my favorite of the four. My introduction to Gary Cooper was as Will Kane, a marshal who is supposed to turn his badge in the morning of his marriage, which also happens to be the day that an ex-convict is returning to the town to exact revenge on Kane for putting him behind bars. High Noon is one of the best examples of tight characterization and slow-burn suspense I’ve ever seen. While it begins with the ballad “Do Not Forsake Me Oh My Darlin’”, the sinister men on a hillside rendezvous make it pretty obvious that all is not right. The clock ticks almost in real time toward the noon trail arrival, while Kane becomes more and more desperate, the townspeople one by one refusing to help him.

As the film unfolds we find out more about what kind of man Kane is, and the history of the town and various men in it. But the strong female characters are what make the film great. Grace Kelly makes the most of her screen time as Will’s strong willed, pacifist bride, and Katy Jurado is a firecracker as Helen Ramirez, a businesswoman tangled up in Kane’s past. The black and white photography gives it a stark feel that it wouldn’t have otherwise, which sets it apart from a lot of '50s films.

STAGECOACH (1939) - John Ford is one of the most influential filmmakers in history, known in large part for his groundbreaking westerns. Orson Welles reportedly watched this one dozens of times during the making of Citizen Kane. As John Wayne’s first leading role, Stagecoach catapulted him to stardom, but this is definitely not a typical John Wayne role. An ensemble cast of mismatched stagecoach passengers in danger of being attacked by Indians share the story.

Like High Noon, Stagecoach tells a tight story whose suspense builds with the characters’ interactions. There’s a married and pregnant woman, a wanted man, a squeamish preacher, a probable prostitute, a drunken doctor, and a former confederate soldier. But somewhere along the way, Stagecoach extracts the humanity in all these characters, showing that an individual’s real quality has little to do with their station in life. The acting is excellent by all the players. And I have to add that I’ve never been a big John Wayne fan, but he’s definitely got something going on here.

THE SEARCHERS (1956) - Similar to the above, David Lean supposedly watched this one repeatedly while preparing to shoot Lawrence of Arabia. Its influence on Star Wars is also obvious. In one of the most iconic shots in film history, the story begins with Ethan Edwards (John Wayne) seen through the doorway by his sister-in-law, approaching his brother’s farm after a long absence.

Soon after, he and other men of the community are tricked by a tribe of Comanche’s into being absent while the farm is raided and burned, Ethan’s brother and sister-in-law killed, and his two nieces kidnapped. This leads him and his adopted nephew on a years long search for his niece Debbie (who reappears as Natalie Wood). Despite a straightforward story and some rather bloated, sometimes funny, sometimes obnoxious side plots, the fascinating center of the tale is in John Wayne’s racist, enigmatic Ethan Edwards. What his driving force is can only speculated on by viewers, based on Ford’s subtle but telling camerawork. What we get is a ravishing view of the west and a unique depiction of racism, in that the film doesn’t tell the audience what to think, but allows them to make their own judgments about the conflicted characters. Despite some laughably bad acting that you find so often in ‘50s films, the rest of it is a piece of art.

SHANE (1953) - The only way to describe Shane is a poem in cinematic form. It really is just the ballad of an ex-gunfighter. Shane is a lone, mysterious gunslinger who appears at the Starrett family farm, eager to help in any way, without any apparent reason. Shane comes into the good graces of the family, becoming their son Joey’s hero, but things become complicated when Shane and Starrett’s wife, Marion, are silently drawn to each other.

Meanwhile, when a dishonest cattle baron threatens the people of the community in order to take over their land, Shane reluctantly intervenes. It is both a triumph and tragedy, for Shane is able to do what none of the farmers can, but the inner peace he sought is sacrificed in the film’s ambiguous ending. Jean Arthur's casting was questionable as Marion, and little Joey sometimes annoying with his “Shane! Come back, Shane!” hero worship (which I actually thought was cute the 2nd time), but Shane remains a powerful film.

It’s not just Shane. All of these films are the kind of Western I like, the kind that tell tales with the grace of a poetic ballad. But maybe I make that comparison because the poetry I like best always has a sense of nostalgia.

Who else is so excited about the Coen Brothers’ True Grit? That rattlesnake pit in the old John Wayne version scared the crap outta me as a kid!

The Tenant of Wildfell Hall

2010-12-06T22:22:00.008-06:00

I read almost all of the Bronte sisters’ novels between eighteen and twenty, with the exception of two of Charlotte’s, The Professor and Shirley. I still haven’t read those, but Jane Eyre and Anne’s two novels are ones that I come back to every once in a while (Emily's Wuthering Heights may be the most technically flawless, but it's more fun to bash than to read). Since I’ve found it difficult to get through a book in a reasonable amount of time lately, and realized that there are no love stories in the books I had lined up for the near future (I may stop short of Stephenie Meyer rereads, but I still have to get my fill every once in a while), I decided to take a break with The Tenant of Wildfell Hall.

This is Anne Bronte’s lesser known work, although I have no idea why, because it is so much better than Agnes Grey. Gilbert Markham is a yeoman farmer, and a bit of a ladies’ man with the girls of his small community. When a young widow with a five-year-old son moves into the neighborhood he is intrigued, despite her cold, severe attitude towards everyone and her strong, sometimes seemingly misguided, opinions. Gilbert finds himself increasingly drawn to Mrs. Graham even as she tries to push him away.

I’m going to spoil the first big twist in the novel here, because it’s one that most people know upon reading it. Helen Graham is not a widow at all, but living hidden after running away from a disastrous marriage. Wildfell Hall is the first novel to ever depict a woman running away from her husband in a positive light, and for that it suffered a lot of criticism when it was published.

Flaws are pretty easy to pick out of the Brontes' novels because they were so experimental for their time. The flaws here are not really flaws, only my doubts about the likelihood of some aspects of the story. It is always risky for a woman to write a book from a man’s first person point of view. I don’t know how times have changed, but I always wonder if a man would think the way Gilbert is written, if he would notice the things he says in the narrative. Less than half the novel is from Gilbert’s perspective, however; the rest is Helen’s diary, recounting her past. Unfortunately, this is my least favorite section of the story--it hurts to read about Helen being so blind that she would make such a huge blunder, watch her suffer for it, and try to make the best of her situation--sometimes in the wrong ways. To own the truth, that I almost skipped that chunk altogether for this reading. I decided there was no point in just reading half a book, though.

It is obvious that Helen is just as unsuitable a match for Huntingdon as he is for her. Not only does she have high moral standards, but she is judgmental of those who don’t. She is willfully blind about her husband’s character, and also about her inability to change him. No one changes a spouse, especially not through preaching to them at every opportunity. I don’t know if her preachiness is a reflection of Bronte’s own perspective, or if it is supposed to be a severe reaction on Helen’s part to her situation--to cling more fiercely and visibly to what she had been taught. At any rate, the overt religious angle tends to grate, even to this devoutly religious reader.

Also, Helen is too severe to be very likable for most of the story. While we can hope that Helen’s liveliness comes back despite her hard years of trial, we never see much of her natural disposition--we only know her character through her suffering. For that reason, it makes me wonder if Gilbert falls for her just because she is different, she isn’t an empty headed girl like all the other ones he knows. If that is so, it is completely understandable--Helen doesn't have much competition in his community. It makes me think about how good we have things nowadays. We can search and search until we find our “perfect” match, while those in the small communities of the past without the means to travel, or the social circle to welcome them in a big city, had to make due with their neighbors’ daughters and sons.

Helen is most interesting when seen through Gilbert’s eyes. My favorite moments all belong to him. There’s nothing incredibly remarkable about Gilbert; he’s just a regular guy who, although his farm is prosperous presumably because of his hard work, likes to enjoy himself. But he is obviously more intelligent than the other people of his community, and he appreciates depth of thought and strength of character when he sees it. He recognizes hypocrisy, and when he sees a reason to exert himself for others, or for principles, he does it. But he can also be surly, jealous, and even violent. In retrospect, it’s a relief that Bronte didn’t paint him as a saint in contrast to Arthur Huntingdon. They share some of the same surface attributes, but the point is that Helen knows Gilbert’s true colors long before it even occurs to her to have feelings for him.

Maybe I just like a woman’s take on a man in love. Most love stories I’ve read by male authors have not been very convincing, but I can only assume it’s because men and women experience love in very different ways. As my sister and I decided about an author we both adore, his take on love is almost clinical (we like his books for reasons other than romance, obviously). What can I say? I’m a sap.

The scrumdidlyumptious Toby Stephens as Gilbert Markham in the 1996 miniseries.
A full-on picspam can be found at the source.

One thing is sure about The Tenant of Wildfell Hall: it’s strong, complex heroine, able to speak her mind and take action in the face of societal disapproval, was ambitious and groundbreaking. It made me, as a reader question how far one should suffer a bad situation before trying to remove oneself (any kind of circumstance, not just marriage). I'm not sure how broad its application is beyond that, but I think Bronte intended it to largely be an expose on what a lot of women had to put up with. It may not be a walk in the park on rereading, but it's a great book.

Reflections

2010-12-03T22:35:00.003-06:00

Tonight a dear friend of mine was set apart as a missionary. This was the first one I've been to (not sure why I didn't go to the ones for my two brothers and my sister). It was a beautiful half hour, during which our Stake Presidency spoke about the blessings of serving in this capacity, and the Stake President blessed my friend with many beautiful things.

I'm going to miss her, but I know she's going where the Lord wants her. In a way, I don't even feel like she's leaving, because I know what she'll be doing, and I know I'll write to her. I want to share her journey. She has the capacity to bless so many people. I know this, because she is someone who truly cares about individuals. She is a warm, sincere, and expressive person who knows her own heart and shares it with others.

These are qualities I wish I had more of. I've always been rather cold, a coldness which comes mainly from discomfort, the inability to connect easily with others. I'm a selfish person who finds myself not caring about those around me like I should. If there is a defined need I can fulfill, I will always do it. But most of the time I am at a loss. Then when someone needs comfort, I feel awkward approaching them after being relatively distant before.

My purpose here is not to compare myself to my friend, or dwell on my perceived inadequacies. I just know that this is something I want to change. I want to love, and be close to people. That takes time, which is something I don't have a lot of. It just means that I need to use my time in choice ways. I don't need to regret the past, just live each coming moment to be the person I want to be, to love the people I want to love.

I love my Savior, and I want to be like him. It's time now to put my whole heart into it, and not be distracted by the more frivolous areas of life.

It's been a while

2010-12-03T11:15:00.006-06:00

Never fear, I have a couple of long posts in the works, one of which I may or may not post, because it contains the most deep and ambivalent reflections of my innermost heart.
I have temporarily stopped reading books. I don't know why. Has the internet finally incinerated my attention span?
Most importantly, the knowledge that Angelina Jolie was ten times more beautiful, not to mention less fake looking, before she had a nose job has made my own nasal esteem rise a couple of notches. Thank you, ma petite soeur, for pointing that out.