Girl Detective

#84 in my book challenge for the year, Mothers and Other Monsters was recommended at Blog of a Bookslut. It is a collection of speculative short fiction by McHugh, a much-awarded speculative fiction writer who has formerly published novels. There are stories about Alzheimer’s, ghosts, parents and children, other worlds, and werewolves. What is most impressive about this collection is its strong writing across a huge variety of settings and topics. I usually prefer novels to short stories, but this collection kept me engaged, and better yet, it made me think.

The collection included excerpts from two of McHugh’s novels, Mission Child and Nekropolis, the former of which I’ve read. I liked but didn’t love it when I did; I remember it as distant and chilly–not emotionally engaged. Reading the segment, here, though, made me want to revisit it. I wasn’t as drawn in by the segment from Nekropolis, a more recent novel that got many impressive reviews.

#54 in my movie challenge for the year, Layer Cake is a stylish, clever gangster flick. Why is it that the English excel at this type of movie (e.g., Get Carter, The Long, Good Friday)? What is the American equivalent? Is it the mob epic, as my husband G. Grod suggests? Layer Cake has a likeable main character who, as per the formula, struggles with issues of character. The ending twists, turns, and doubles back in a satisfying ending that moves so quickly it defies prediction. Like most gangster films, though, Layer Cake feels nihilistic and a little soul-less. This is an engaging movie, but not one that prompts a great deal of inner thought.

#83 in my book challenge for the year, Gilead by Marilynne Robinson is a Great Novel, if such a thing exists (see last entry.) It certainly is one of the best novels I’ve read, at least this year, if not ever. Robinson has written only one other novel, Housekeeping, though she has written other books. Many wondered if Housekeeping would be the only novel by Robinson, since there was a gap of more than twenty years between them. A writing instructor of mine told the story of the publishing editor who stood in the doorway of a colleague’s office. “Guess what I’m holding?” the editor asked, reverently. “Marilynne Robinson’s second novel.” Gilead is a series of letters written from an older (seventy-ish) father to his young (seven-ish) son, meant to be read when the son is older. I can’t conjure enough adjectives to do this book justice. Lovely, timeless, seamless, touching. That the letter conceit works, in addition to telling history, new story and characterization, is a stunning feat of writing. I am accustomed to reading at a fast clip. This book defies quick reading. It is rich, complex prose to be savored. Housekeeping made the Time best-of list I wrote about yesterday. Gilead belongs on that list, too.

Time magazine recently released a list of the 100 best novels since 1923. Thanks to Blogenheimer for the link. Blogenheimer also includes a link to this Morning News article that included dissenting opinions, including one by someone who contended that 1984 was not as good a novel as Harry Potter.

Most of the quotes from the Morning News are easily laughed at. Yet what isn’t obvious, to me, at least, is why Zadie Smith’s White Teeth, which was a good first novel in my opinion, certainly not a Great Novel, was on there while other novelists like Michael Chabon and Joyce Carol Oates did not appear at all. I’m sure there are many, “why this and not that?” arguments that can be made, because best-of lists are dubious things, created more to stoke sales and promote controversy than for any value themselves.

I had a recent email exchange with the author of Mental Multivitamin in which we discussed whether there is a difference between great and good novels, and whether its snobbery to say so. I attended a talk once by film director Peter Greenaway. He marked a distinction between art for enjoyment, and art for pleasure. The former was simple; the latter complex. Are these distinctions false, and merely subject to individual taste, as the critic of 1984 contends?

My own conclusion is that there is a difference, but it’s hardly black and white. There’s lots of gray middle ground. And I don’t think it’s snobbery to make a distinction, but I know it will be called so.

What think you, readers? Is there a difference between great and merely good novels, and is it snobbery to say so? Does the Time list have any worth?

I did not clean my kitchen floor. I did not do any laundry. I did not blog. I did not read blogs. I did not run more than one errand. I did not bake brownies. I did not run to the grocery store. I did not succumb to my obviously tired toddler’s pleas to read him more than two books before his nap. I did not read an entire short story. I did not return phone calls.

Instead, I did a final edit of my novel to complete the latest draft, which I hope is the penultimate one before I send it out. I also gave several sharp looks and comments to the baby monitor whenever Drake stirred before I finished. But, bless him, he took a good, long nap, and I did finish.

I am averaging two drafts a year. I wish it were better, but it could be worse. I wrote the first draft in National Novel Writing Month in November of 2002. For any reader who ever thought they’d like to write a novel, I highly recommend NaNoWriMo. It’s not easy, but it’s rewarding. I’m not participating this year. Instead, I’m getting this manuscript ready to submit. But I did it last year as well, so as soon as this one is out the door, I’m setting to work on last year’s novel.

Someone had cause to translate this blog into French. Thanks to Blogenheimer for the link.

#82 in my book challenge for the year, The Panic-Free Pregnancy, was recommended to me by a food critic, because it debunks common pregnancy myths such as “don’t eat sushi.” (Why? Sushi may cause food poisoning, but not listeria, the only kind of food poisoning that can cross the placenta. Ditto for rare meat.) The book is divided into sections of pre-, during, and post-pregnancy. I found it most effective in the “during” sections for things like what drugs are safe. The author, a doctor and researcher, debunks many commonly held beliefs such as avoiding ibuprofen entirely, and avoiding cold medicines. One of the most interesting factoids he attacks is the “8 glasses of water a day” rule. According to him, there is absolutely no study or test to back this up. It was put out as a nutritional guideline at one point, and people adopted it and now never question it. Instead, he advocates drinking if you’re thirsty. What a concept.

The book is useful, but it’s not world-shaking. Ultimately, much of what he says is common sense, and much of it is able to be found elsewhere. It upholds some of the common advice, such as avoiding deli products, soft cheeses and blue cheeses for listeria. He also is not able to confirm that topical creams that contain retinol are safe, so there are still plenty of common things that are off the list for pregnant women.

This book should be used with caution. A topic can be discussed in a few places, not all of which are listed in the index. For example, in one discussion of listeria that’s not in the index, he recommends avoiding blue cheeses, but not in any other. Additionally, my doctor disagreed with his assertions about ibuprofen. She agreed that it might be used occasionally as needed early in pregnancy, but said that the further on in pregnancy one goes, the more of a detrimental effect it has on the circulation of the developing fetus. Broder’s book is more cavalier than cautious on this point. While this book sells itself as the grain of salt that one should take with the conventional wisdom about what to do or avoid during pregnancy, it should also be used cautiously.

#81 in my book challenge for the year is What I Loved by Siri Hustvedt. It is well-written, with strong characters and a compelling story. It centers around the friendship between Leo, an art historian, and Bill, an artist, and their loves, their children, and their tragedies. The novel also includes a lot of art history and feminist theory, but these are always used in service of the story. They enhance the understanding of the characters, as well as the reading experience.

A friend asked me recently if I’d do anything differently during my second pregnancy than I did during my first. Ha! I thought. Any one thing? I have a few.

The biggest change is that I do not have a job. I resigned mine when my son Drake was 9 months old, because he kept getting sick in daycare. Note that I did not say, “I do not work.” I care for Drake and our home full time. I much prefer dealing with a pouty, fussy two-year old to managing a pouty, fussy so-called adult, as I was often called to do at my former job. Also, most of my deadlines, and decisions to adhere to them or ignore them, are now almost always my own. Finally, I divide my time between family and writing, and do not have to juggle the awkward third party of work as I once did. I am much more fatigued this pregnancy than last, likely because of wrangling Drake, yet I have much less stress than I did. We have much less money than we did, which is an ongoing challenge, but the tradeoffs have been worthwhile.

Against all conventional wisdom, I am exercising less. During the first weeks of my first trimester of this pregnancy, I continued to go to power yoga classes. Then I stopped, and have switched to infrequent prenatal yoga tapes and walking. During my first pregnancy, I did power yoga until the day before I went into labor, which I entered exhausted and perhaps dehydrated, both of which probably contributed to a lengthy and difficult labor. This time I’m exercising, but I’m also resting. I try to take a short nap when Drake does. I want to do what I can to enter labor reasonably well-rested.

To assist with labor, I am going to meet with a hypnotist and work with a doula. When I checked into the hospital last time, all the rooms were full, and I wasn’t seen for a long time. This time, I’d like to have a birth assistant with my husband and me the whole time.

Finally, I know now that planning has limited value. Many of the things that people assume are birth “choices” aren’t, when it comes down to the actual event. Many people think that things like drugs, cesareans, and episiotomies are outdated choices enforced by conventional medical practitioners. Certain books and gurus enforce this perception. But they aren’t always things that are foisted upon you. Instead, they are sometimes medically necessary to protect the health of the mother or the baby. So I’m not going to go overboard on planning or preparation. If things continue, I will be less stressed, less tired, and more supported than I was last time. I think these things will increase my odds for a decent labor and delivery.

Twin Citians, did you go? I did, and had a great time. I attended a morning talk by Siri Hustvedt, in which she read from her new book of essays on art. She talked about Goya and Giorgione. Both her book and her discussion were intelligent yet accessible, even for this art novice. I am nearly finished reading her novel What I Loved, and will have more to say about it when I do. (I try not to talk about a book until I’m done, but I’m really enjoying it.)

I was late to the talk by Audrey Niffenegger, the author of the huge bestseller The Time Traveler’s Wife. She was discussing her new work, which is actually an old work begun before her successful novel, an “illustrated novel” called The Three Incestuous Sisters. The art looked lovely, and the process to produce the book sounded daunting, but I left the talk unconvinced that I would enjoy either of her works that she discussed.

Finally, I attended a dual talk with Alison McGhee and Pete Hautman, two authors who write both for adults and teens. McGhee has also written picture books and a middle grade novel, and is currently collaborating with another author on what she called a Frog-and_Toad-type chapter book. Both said they resist labels such as “young-adult” or “Minnesota” author. McGhee clarified, though, that Minnesota is a great writing community. Both agreed that getting paid in advance for a book can be a disincentive to finish it. McGhee encouraged writers to practice their craft in preparation for trying to publish, rather than sending off a rough manuscript. Both were well-spoken, intelligent, and the excerpts they read from their new teen novels were quite good.

This is the second year I’ve attended, and I was even more impressed this year. If you missed it, and you’re a reader or writer in the Twin Cities, keep it in mind for next year. This was a great event, and I think it exemplifies why Minnesota is such a good reading and writing community.

We’ve had a rough couple days in our house. Thursday Drake was sick. He seemed better Friday, but didn’t nap. I should’ve been tipped off that he didn’t have a standard virus. Alas, it took another day and a very rough night to convince me of that a trip to Urgent Care was in order. Both Drake’s ears were infected, and he was just starting with pinkeye. So we’ve procured drugs aplenty and he should be better soon.

But no nap on Friday meant no blog, and I’m reminded of my dad’s favorite phrase, “all of life is a compromise.” I’ve been steadily editing my novel, a chapter per day during the week. The good news is that I’m making progress. There’s a cost, of course, though. I haven’t read other blogs in over a week. I get easily frustrated when I’m not able to do everything that I want to, or that I imagine I should do. I have to keep reminding myself to take a long view. Just because I can’t get something done today doesn’t mean I won’t get it done.

Two-year-old Drake woke at 6 this morning crying, then threw up on me when I tried to comfort him. I felt so bad for him. Throwing up is such an alarming thing when you know what it is and have words to describe it, but for him it is understandably quite upsetting. He had a tough morning with lots of crying, and I find I’m much more patient with lengthy crying when I know what the reason is. He took a morning nap on the couch, and is having his second nap of the day, so I know he isn’t his normal self. We skipped music class and going to the park and instead stayed in to read. I made a batch of Jello, and diluted some of the liquid for him at lunch. He calls it “geggo.” I may let him play in the back yard when he wakes up if he seems better.

Sick days are kind of weird as a stay at home mom. I don’t have a boss or employees that I need to inform, I don’t need to worry or email. I need to give some of the same regard to myself as I’m giving to Drake, such as rest and fluids. Because whatever he has, I’m likely to get, and that’ll only make things more difficult for both of us. That hasn’t been enough to restrain me, though, from a load of laundry (the vomit clothes), the dishes, emptying the garbage, sorting the recycling, and sweeping the kitchen floor. Other than all of that, though, as of now I’m resting.

#80 in my book challenge for the year, Godless by Pete Hautman is teen fiction and won a National Book Award this year. Hautman is a Minnesotan writer and will be presenting at this Saturday’s Twin Cities Book Fest.

Godless describes Jason Bock, a Minnesotan teen forced by his parents to attend weekly meetings for Catholic teens. Bored during class, Jason decides to invent a god, and he seizes on the local water tower. As he shares his notion with friends and acquaintances, they ask to join his new religion. Difficulties ensue. Jason and his friends are sparely drawn in this short novel, yet they are likeable and believable, and Jason’s crisis of faith rings true. This is a good story, and a good book for any teen or adult who has struggled with the faith in which s/he was raised.

#53 in my movie challenge for the year, Shaun of the Dead was good, zombie fun. I think it’s good for a zombie movie not to take itself too seriously. The viewer shouldn’t be given a chance to wonder why it takes so long for military types to show up and mow down the mindless, slow-moving hordes. That’s why this movie was enjoyable. It was about the group of people involved, their dynamics, and the monsters were the background. It was funny and charming, AND it had zombies.

#79 in my book challenge for the year, Hosseini’s book The Kite Runner is a darling of women’s book clubs. Women’s book clubs are often derided as being earnest but not erudite; I felt similarly about this book. I am meanly tempted to do a one-word review: overdetermined. But that would both be unkind and unfair. Hosseini’s book has merit. It is the story of two boys in pre-war Afghanistan. One boy is rich, entitled and longing for his father’s love, the other boy is a persecuted minority, but honest, noble, and the deserving recipient of admiration from both his own father and that of the other boy. (See what I mean about overdetermined? And that’s just the set up.) The rich boy does a Bad Thing, and the relationships are severed, just as war begins to divide the country. The rich boy eventually gets the chance to atone for the Bad Thing. This book works very well as a portrait of pre- and post-war Afghani culture. The central story, though, did not draw me in.

It did remind me, though, to re-read an essay called “Naji’s Taliban Phase” which originally appeared in The New York Times Magazine, and was collected in the 2002 edition of The Best American Nonrequired Reading. I do recommend both the essay and the collection.

#52 in my movie challenge for the year is American Splendor, about indie comic author Harvey Pekar. I’ve never read Pekar’s comics, but many people recommended this film, including some who didn’t read comic books at all. Plus Pekar is appearing at the Twin Cities Book Fest this weekend where he will be interviewed by Mary Lucia, who happens to be one of my husband G. Grod’s fantasy girlfriends. (Even our toddler Drake knows her name. G. will get home from work, turn on The Current, and when Mary’s voice comes on, Drake will look up and say, “Mary!” I don’t blame them for being enamored. She is pretty cool.)

American Splendor is also the name of Pekar’s comic. He is a grumpy everyman writing about his anger and frustration with everyday life. The film is exceedingly well-crafted, with excellent performances by Paul Giamatti as Pekar and Hope Davis as Pekar’s wife. It intersperses their performances with taped clips of the real Pekar’s appearances on The Late Show, as well as with narration and appearances by the real Pekar, his wife and friends, and animated sequences and written narration. It is a fascinating biography that combines film, documentary and comic books. Slow moving at first, with an off-putting main character, both the film and its subjects won me over in the end.

My husband G. Grod brought home an article from his daddy and me class last weekend that has been on my mind ever since. It’s a publication of the College of Education and Human Development of the University of Minnesota, and titled “What is Meant by ‘Infant Mental Health?’” The article centers around the phrase “good enough”:

…children’s development depends on their parents and other caregivers to provide a “good enough” environment. British pediatrician and psychoanalyst D. W. Winnicott coined the term “good enough” when he described an environment where parents respond consistently enough and well enough to their children. From those consistent reponses, children learn to expect care, comfort, and pleasure in their achievements. And “good enough” means just that–good enough. It would not be good for babies to have their every uncomfortable feeling sootheed from the outside, because then they would not learn how to wait, to tolerate some discomfort, and to soothe themselves.

The article is short, but worthwhile, and contains the kind of information that I find rare as a parent–realistic, human, and the kind of common sense that sometimes has to be learned. I think the phrase “good enough” is a remarkable help both as a parent and as a human being. I won’t be perfect, so I needn’t bother exhausting myself as I try to be, or worse, second-guessing and overanalyzing mistakes of the past.

I thought of this when a friend asked me recently if my husband’s and my night out for our anniversary was romantic. It wasn’t, really. Rain and a rushed dinner made things a little hectic. But we had a nice time, and appreciated the time out together. It was better than good enough, even if it wasn’t romantic. And after seven years of marriage, good enough is pretty good, and romantic will happen when it will, not on demand.

#51 in my movie challenge for the year is a Lifetime television movie, something I would normally avoid. Speak is an adaptation of one of my favorite books, though, (NB: not simply one of my favorite young-adult books, but one of my favorite books, period) so I wanted to give it a chance. I wasn’t disappointed. It is a good and faithful adaptation of Laurie Halse Anderson’s excellent novel. Kristen Stewart does an admirable job of portraying Melinda Sordino’s struggle to tell her story, while the movie does a nice job both of unspooling the backstory a little at a time, showing how quickly something can turn from fun and romantic to ugly. Of necessity, the film is not as detailed or complex as the book, but the casting and performances are strong, and it is worth watching. I noticed at least a few echos of My So-Called Life, such as Melinda’s dyed red hair, and two shots of her running down a hall and out a door. Speak is a lot darker than MSCL ever was, though, and it manages its tough subject matter without sensationalizing or downplaying it.

#50 in my movie challenge for the year, Hotel Rwanda was not a film I was sure I wanted to watch. Oscar nominations do not confirm a film’s merit, merely its popularity. Hotel Rwanda, about a hotel manager who shelters refugees during a time of genocide, was well-reviewed and nominated. I was concerned it would be both depressing and overdetermined. I was pleasantly surprised, though. It handles its difficult subject matters deftly, and Don Cheadle’s performance as the hotel manager is suberb. The film cannot help but be depressing, but I also found it inspiring in a non-hokey way. It pricked my conscience, and reminded me to try and be a better person and to hold the petty annoyances of my own life less tightly because I lead a very fortunate existence.

#78 in my book challenge for the year, Sweetblood a teen novel about vampires, is a short, satisfying read. Lucinda, or Lucy, is a diabetic high-school student with a theory that the legends of vampires grew from observing untreated diabetics. Lucy dyes her hair black and spends a lot of time thinking about vampires, though she doesn’t identify as a goth. Lucy’s appearance and vampire theory get her in trouble both at home and at school.

Hautman skillfully balances the question of whether vampires are real with the realistic struggles of Lucy with her diabetes and in her relationships. Lucy is a believable teen with a strong voice. Fans of Buffy the Vampire Slayer will likely enjoy this book.