Girl Detective

I have almost completely broken myself of the habit of requesting new/bestsellers from the library. Almost always, they come in when I have a boatload of reading to do for my three book groups, and I can’t possibly squeeze in whatever book happens to show up when it’s finally my turn. I returned both Swamplandia and Chris Adrian’s Great Night without reading them.

(Yes, yes, I know I can put freeze the reserve for a time to hold my place, but I’m not quite organized enough to be able to do that efficiently. So they show up seemingly randomly.)

I should not have even requested Jean Thompson’s new novel The Year We Left Home. Her short story collection, Who Do You Love? has been on my to-read shelf since about 2002. Nonetheless, I requested it long ago when I read glowing reviews, and when I got it from the library I had a short break between books. Thus I read it. And am glad I did.

The book is labeled a novel, but reads more like a series of linked short stories, all told by members of the Erickson’s, a middle-class Iowa family. It begins with a wedding in the 70’s, and continues to the early 00’s. There is a great deal of sadness, some tragedy, and also some happiness, though it’s usually short lived. The family, the struggles of its members, and how they grow and change over time, felt very true and real to me. The Booklist blurb on the back of the hardcover captured one of the themes well: “the lure of away and the gravitational pull of home.”

The bride and groom had two wedding receptions: the first was in the basement of the Lutheran church right after the ceremony, with punch and cake and coffee and pastel mints. This was for those of the bride’s relatives who were stern about alcohol. The basement was low-ceilinged and smelled of metallic furnace heat. Old ladies wearing corsages sat on folding chairs, while other guests stood and managed their cake plates and plastic forks as best they could. The pastor smiled with professional benevolence. The bride and groom posed for pictures, buoyed by adrenaline and relief. There had been so much promised and prepared, and now everything had finally come to pass.

In its style, writing and structure I was reminded of Olive Kitteridge. In its subject, I was reminded of Joyce Carol Oates’ We Were the Mulvaneys. It was moving, with terrific characters.

Last Week was the 16 year anniversary of the day I met G Grod, who is now my husband. When I’m asked how we met, I usually respond, flippantly, that I picked him up in a bar. While this is technically true, and I fancy it amusing, it is not the whole picture, which I find makes for a pretty good origin story.

In the fall of 1995, I was recently single and unemployed, both of these by choice. After several years, I’d left a job in educational services to study religion. I’d also broken up with the man I’d been living with and engaged to. I was heartbroken, terribly lonely and overwhelmed by the rigors of grad school. Former co-workers invited me to a party at the 16th Street Bar and Grill in downtown Philadelphia. They promised to invite a good-looking pre-med student and set us up. I put on my favorite sweater and a slick of hopeful lip gloss.

At the bar, my friend had bad news. “He can’t make it,” she said, of the cute doctor-to-be. “He said he’d try to stop by later.” I’m sure my face fell. Then she gestured to the guy sitting next to her at the bar. “But this is G., and when you walked in he said ‘Who’s that?’ You should talk to him.”

I checked him out. Thick black hair. Big brown eyes. T-shirt, jeans and Chucks. Cute. I gathered up the shreds of my self-esteem, went up to him and asked if he had any quarters for the jukebox.

From my husband for Halloween, Boing Boing has an updated, spottily scientific Candy Hierarchy.

Bit-o-Honey, for example, might be called a lower tier member, but why bother? It says to your trick-or-treaters, “Here, I don’t care, just take this.” The lesson of Bit-o-Honey is: you lose. Goo Goo clusters, too. You’re making a social statement–”I hate you and everything you represent”–when you give these out.

First of all, what the heck does post-tertiary mean especially as it’s situated between top and second tier? Tertiary means third. Perhaps it’s an Anglicism. I encourage reading the comments to get global perspectives on candy, such as Cadbury’s v. Hershey’s, different names for items, etc. From its placement, I’d guess post-tertiary means, almost as good.

I recently threw away a few pounds worth of old candy from a. Halloween 2010 b. Easter 2011 c. Fourth of July 2011, and will use this in my analysis:

Top Tier: Take 5s, most anything with dark chocolate, full-size bar

Post Tertiary (runners up) Dum Dums cream soda lollipops, root beer bottle caps, those round, red and white striped peppermints, Twix, mini Snickers, mini Milky Way Midnights

The Middle (i.e. stuff my kids will eat that I don’t bother with: milk chocolate, Crunch, smarties, Starburst, butterfinger, reese’s cups)

Bottom: cheap pencils from the dollar aisle Target, unmarked candy of any sort, things in waxy wrappers (Mary Jane’s, brown blobs in orange or brown wrappers, bit o’honey, tootsie rolls.)

Discuss.

Every year Mental Multivitamin reminds us of St. Crispin’s Day, October 25th, and of its central role in the battle speeches of Shakespeare’s Henry V. Every year I watch the video of that speech, am moved to tears, and am glad for the reminder of Branah’s Henry V, which was my gateway into both film and Shakespeare.

In early 1990, I was trying to clean up my act, having gotten into no little trouble from partying too much. One Friday night, a friend invited me to see Henry V at an arthouse theater in DC* where it was showing on a giant screen. At 2 hours and 17 minutes, the run time had me worried. I suspected I’d be bored, but also figured it was better than the alternative, which was staying home in baggy sweats to study. I got my treat of choice for that era**, a small Sprite and a box of Milk Duds. I remember it was a particularly fresh box. The chocolate-coated caramels were soft and gooey, not hard and stale.

“Fresh off the Dud tree,” my friend joked.

The movie began, and drew me in immediately:

O! for a Muse of fire, that would ascend The brightest heaven of invention; A kingdom for a stage, princes to act and monarchs to behold the swelling scene. Then should the war-like Harry, like himself, assume the port of Mars; and at his heels, Leash’d in like hounds, should famine, sword, and fire crouch for employment.

There was the tennis ball scene. And the scene with his friends at the bar. And so 2 hours and 17 minutes flew by. I didn’t know history. I had no idea the English would win, or the historical significance of those long bows. I wasn’t familiar with Shakespeare. I didn’t always track the language, and had no idea what a stellar cast I was watching: Judi Dench, Derek Jacobi, Brian Blessed, Ian Holm. Even the rookies: Branagh as actor/director, his then-wife Emma Thompson, Christin Bale! And oh,that courtship scene:

King Henry V: Fair Katherine, if you will love me soundly with your French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with your English tongue. Do you like me, Kate?

Princess Katherine: [unable to understand his English] Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell what is ‘like me’.

King Henry V: An angel is like you, Kate.

Sweet, romantic, funny, a perfect antidote to the grisly battle scenes. I loved that movie, and went to see it again. And again. And again. A total of four times at that theater; it ran for months, first on the large screen then on the small. I bought a copy of the play and read it. I bought the film on VHS, then bought it again years later on DVD. I will probably buy it yet again on Bluray. Since then I’ve seen the play and many others, on film and on stage. I’ve read many of the plays and wrote papers on them in graduate school. Twenty plus years later, it’s hard for me to imagine a time when that film, films in general, and works of Shakespeare weren’t part of my life. And every year I am reminded of that on St. Crispin’s Day by Mental Multivitamin. Thank you.

After I read this year’s MMv entry, I had a proud moment: 8yo Drake is supposed to practice handwriting every day for 15 minutes. He hates it. He moans. He flops. He procrastinates and generally makes us all miserable. I showed him the video of the speech, then opened up a copy of Henry V for Young People, which I’d hopefully bought several years ago. He moaned. He groaned. He started to copy the speech. At nine minutes he asked how much time he’d done, then banged his head on the table when I told him. But then, he got it. He got into that speech, and copied the whole thing out, and didn’t even notice when he blazed by the 15 minute mark to finish after 21 minutes. I wish I could say every writing practice since has gone as well. No dice. But for that one, brief shining moment, I could share that little thing with him, and that was more than enough.

*I think it was the Cineplex Odeon Outer Circle, since closed, which was north of Georgetown on Wisconsin Ave.

**My current favorite treat is a dozen spice drops mixed into popcorn with real butter with either water or a Mug or Sprecher root beer.

Continuing our home-movie binge:

Ocean’s 12 (2004). Some good bits but nowhere near as entertaining as its predecessor. (Rather like Iron Man 2 in that respect.) This blog post posits it’s because it’s not a heist film, but an art film. If you wonder, like the author, why so much of recent film has a blue/orange look, this article has a good take on it.

Zombieland (2009). Some good parts, and one part at the end that I would’ve liked even more if it hadn’t been spoiled (my fault for waiting so long to see it). Some clever takes on zombie tropes, and Woody Harrelson is entertaining.

A Knight’s Tale (2001). For the first hour or so, this weird mix of late 20th century rock and medieval story was bizarrely entertaining. Then, the movie dragged on to over 2 hours. Note to filmmakers: B movies should not be much more than 90 minutes.

Captain America (2011) on Bluray, which looked really, really good. The special effects of having Steve Rogers start small and asthmatic and transform into Chris Evans were impressive. Like Iron Man and Thor, a solid tentpole leading up to the circus that is going to be The Avengers. A solidly entertaining B movie.

My disappointment at the end of Knights Tale put me over the edge, and I’m now going to have to take a break, and get back to reading.

For the most part, I buy comic books when they’re collected into graphic novels–this makes it easier for me to remember what’s going on, is often cheaper than buying individual issues, and means I don’t have to suffer through the eye-searing ads of most monthly books. DC Comics has restarted all its titles (again) so I thought it might be a good time to dip my toe back into superhero books to see if I might want to dive back in.

Nope. I read the first two issues of Action Comics, Animal Man, Batwoman, and Swamp Thing. They felt much like clumsy television pilots, trying to cram a lot of exposition into a small space. And telling with words isn’t what makes the comics medium fun for me. None of these comics made me interested to read further. Instead, I had the urge to go back and read the graphic novel collections of great past arcs of these titles: Animal Man and Swamp Thing by Alan Moore were two of my gateway comics, both Moore and Morrison have done great things with the Superman mythos, and the recent Batwoman collection, Elegy, really engaged me. It’s good I’m not the comic-reading majority, or monthly super books would die, but for now, I’m happy with my status quo, buying a few books in individual issues (iZombie and anything by Ed Brubaker), while getting others as they’re collected (Unwritten and now Sweet Tooth.)

Anyone else out there have any thoughts on DC’s new 52 titles, or individual issues vs. collections?

I was delighted to see the latest collection of the comic book series The Unwritten: Leviathan, on the shelf last week. Tom Taylor is the real-life son of a famous author who penned a Harry-Potter-esque series featuring a boy named Tommy Taylor. Good and evil are battling on the grounds of fiction and storytelling in this series that manages to be hyper-meta while still telling a good story. If you are a fan of the series Fables, or the novels of Jasper Fforde, this will likely be your cuppa.

Sweet Tooth was the recommendation I got at the comic shop recently when I asked “what am I not reading that I should be?” I’d heard good things about this book for a while, so was open to give it a try.

In a post-apocalyptic world, a boy named Gus lives with his father in the deep woods. The twist is that he’s something called a hybrid–he’s got deer antlers which seem to be a result of whatever catastrophe caused the outside world to collapse. The father warns the boy never to leave the woods, but when he inevitably dies, the boy meets with a mystery man who promises to lead the boy to a haven.

Sweet Tooth is indeed worth reading. Gus is engaging, and I quickly cared about what happened to him. The book uses many, many elements of post-apocalyptic fiction. I was strongly reminded of The Road and Riddley Walker

I'll take a moment to vent a pet peeve that's been growing for a while and that disappointed me with this book. ENOUGH WITH PROSTITUTES. Especially enough with them as convenient plot devices to stand for people without power. Using them as stock characters is lazy and insulting storytelling. Cut it out. I mean it.

A dear friend of mine highly recommended A Suitable Boy to me many years ago. I was suspicious of its length, and put it off for years. Finally in 2007 I had a long stretch of time so I decided to dip my toe into A Suitable Boy and see what happened. A few weeks later, I came up for air, disappointed to be leaving the characters I’d come to love and admire.

Since then, I’d meant to read Seth’s shorter novel, An Equal Music, so when a book group member suggested it recently, I was excited for the opportunity. Then I began the book. I waited for it to involve me. And waited. Asked other friends in the book group what their experience had been. They said it took a while to get into it. I kept reading. But my dislike of the narrator, a self-involved violinist pining for the girlfriend of youth, only grew. When the past love was introduced, neither did I care for her. When something was revealed about her, I was told it was tragic and horrible; I never felt this.

The only thing I felt as I read this novel was a sense of duty to the members of my book group to continue to the end. Which I did. And was glad, very glad, to close that book and leave it behind. I found it dreary and uninteresting. I do look forward to our discussion of the book, to hear what other readers found and felt where I did not. If you, like me, disliked this book, do not let it deter you from A Suitable Boy, which I continue to hold dear, even if one character married THE WRONG PERSON, which I’m still angry about, years later.

We’ve been on something of a DVD bender since getting a new DVR, high def TV, and Bluray player. While I’m not sure it was prudent, we did it anyway, and now might as well enjoy the fruits of our folly. The high definition takes some getting used to, as all movies now look somehow more like real life, whatever that is. But we figure, the more we watch, the more accustomed to it we’ll be. So it’s for our own good that we’re watching all these movies. Really.

The Social Network (2010) d. David Fincher. My husband declined to watch it, but I’m glad I did. No matter how much of it is really real, the story it tells is a compelling one, well acted, and intriguingly constructed and told. From IMDB trivia, some of the cameras used in production were lent by Steven Soderbergh, director of:

Ocean’s 11 (2001) My husband’s pick, and a continuation of our Soderbergh kick. We saw it originally in the theater. Cool, clever, fun and funny. An enjoyable and entertaining way to spend a few hours. That rarity: a well-crafted popcorn flick.

Zodiac (2007) d. David Fincher. WAY too long. Engaging in its focus on how the serial killing messed up a bunch of lives, instead of as a straight procedural and with good performances. Robert Downey Jr, much like Al Pacino, has come to a point where he tends to play a version of himself–a smart-ass, kind of crazy, substance abusing pain in the ass. He’s good at it, but I wonder if he’s able to play anything else, or if the public would pay to see him play anything else. And so…

Iron Man (2008) d. Jon Favreau. Robert Downey Jr. playing Tony Stark, a womanizing, drunk, pain the ass. This is a solid execution of a superhero movie. Fun, funny, tense, but not overly so, and not overly long. Great performances by actors who seem to be having a lot of fun. The next film seemed obvious…

Iron Man 2 (2010) d. Jon Favreau. With Mickey Rourke as the Russian villain, and Scarlett Johannson as the undercover agent. A bit too big for its britches, it overplays its charms and explosions, but still has some fun moments and snappy dialogue. Don Cheadle ably plays Rhodie, which Terrence Howard did a fine job with in #1.

What with Thor as our first Blu ray purchase, my husband and I are geeking out on Marvel’s well-orchestrated buildup to The Avengers. Joss Whedon. The Avengers. Squee! And in general I’m much more of a DC babe than a Marvel one, so whoever is driving this bus is doing a bang-up job.

A long-ago recommendation from Mental Multivitamin, Slings and Arrows is a Canadian television series about a Shakespeare company that’s led by a former mental patient who’s being haunted (or is he?) by the ghost of the former director. It’s a wacky ensemble piece in which each season centers around the production of one main play. Season One was Hamlet, Season 2 was Macbeth (aka the Scottish Play, yanno). Like my friend at MMv, my husband got me season 1 on DVD, which we enjoyed, but when we went to get season 2, it was cheaper to get the complete series of all three, which came with better extras. So we thought season 1 was so nice, we bought it twice. Then perhaps enjoyed Season 2 perhaps even more than Season 1. At only 6 hour-minus-commercials-long episodes per season, it is a lot of delight in a short amount of time. Its a great blend of funny, sad, bitter and sweet. Rather like the Bard’s own work.

Last weekend was the Rain Taxi Twin Cities Book Fest, one of my favorite events of the year. I go, I listen to authors, meet authors, chat with friends, make some new ones. For this reader and writer, it’s just one more reason I love the Twin Cities.

Oh, and did I mention, there are books for sale?

Lord of Misrule by Jaimy Gordon (because Festival Director gushed about her, and because it won the National Book Award and was a selection of the Morning News Tournament of Books, and because I liked the excerpt she read from it.)

Origin by Diana Abu-Jaber (because a woman in the audience said she led retreats on the book and it always provoked great responses, and because I liked what she read from her current book.)

Winters Bone by Daniel Woodrell (because the Festival Director gushed, because I really liked the movie based on it, because I liked the excerpt he read from his current book. Unrelated but cool: he served on Guam in ‘70 to 71; I lived there ‘72 to ‘74.)

Whose Hand? by Judith Yates Borger (because she’s in my writing group and I saw this book from beginning to publication)

Get In If You Want to Live by John Jodzio (because it’s a cool little book with illustrated flash fiction, and because he’s funny, and my neighbor)

White Truffles in Winter by N.M. Kelby (because I really liked her reading of it, and both she and Diana Abu-Jaber talked about food in fiction, which I’m working on, too.)

Thus ends of the recent book bender. I hope to spend a lot of time reading. Soon.

Links to come.

From the library:

The Year We Left Home by Jean Thompson (because it was well reviewed and had a long wait at the library, I thought for sure whenever it came in I’d have time to read it. And have read her book of short stories that’s been on my shelves for years. YEARS. Sigh.)

Yoga Anatomy by Leslie Kaminoff (because in the last month I’ve strained my trapezius muscle, something in the middle back, and something in the leg area. I grow old, I grow old and I thought I’d try to figure out what’s going on where.)

Good to the Grain by Kim Boyce (because I want to try the chocolate chip cookie recipe again, and didn’t get enough time with it when I got it out of the library the last time.)

Perfect One-Dish Dinners by Pamela Anderson. (I’ve been a fan of Anderson’s since way back when she wrote for Cook’s Illustrated, and her chocolate chip cookie recipe is the one I turn to. I was hoping for inspiration for fall dinners, but this is more geared to a group and is very meat heavy, though it does have many good-looking recipes and alternatives.)

Flour by Joyce Chang (because I didn’t get to spend enough time with it when I got it out last time. Both this and Good to the Grain were recommended by Jennifer Reese on Tipsy Baker.)

Links to come.

I’ve been buying books again. With all good intentions. Do you think I can have all these books be the very next one I read?

I suppose it could be worse. It’s not crack, heroin or meth, right? I may have to post these in a series, as everything online is either not working or working slowly. And Mercury’s not even in retrograde!

From the Mixed Up Files of Mrs Basil E Frankweiler by E L Konigsburg (I got this for 8yo Drake, hopeful he’s old enough and up for it)
The Family Fang by Kevin Wilson (The last recommendation for me from The Biblioracle at The Morning News)
Make the Bread, Buy the Butter by Jennifer Reese, who blogs at Tipsy Baker
The Finder Library v. 2 by Carla Speed McNeil. (One of my favorite comic series, collected in a lovely new edition. Why, no, I still haven’t finished v. 1. Your point?)
Sweet Tooth: Out of the Deep Woods v. 1 by Jeff Lemire (An answer to my question of “what’s good that I’m not reading” from 2nd in command C at Big Brain Comics)

More to come…

As I wrote before, I thought once my younger son started kindergarten, I’d spend the time writing and keeping house. This hasn’t happened. Instead I’ve been biking and eating.

I had every intention of staying in today and doing Useful Things. Then I saw a photo my friend Amy shared on Facebook of duck soup. The sun was shining. My bike’s tires were filled with air. It was time to go.

Ten-plus miles later, I got the second to last bowl of rich broth filled with squiggly noodles, bok choy, broccoli, a poached eggs, and local duck. I sat in the sun and slurped it down.

Where I Went and What I Ate: St. Paul (about 10.5 miles each way.) Duck soup from Chef Shack food truck. $10.

Tomorrow’s weather icon looks like this:

Tomorrow I’ll stay in.

Maybe.

Another thing I’m a fierce fan of is caffeine with a carb for breakfast. Perhaps it’s my Italian heritage.

Check out “50 of the World’s Best Breakfasts” at Hostel Bookers for 49 other delicious looking ways to break your fast. (via The Morning News)

The other day I wrote about the lurking bad feelings of not liking things that other people love. Today, a few things I embrace fiercely (other than my boys):

Novels
Naps
Good chocolate, pizza, coffee (mediocre might as well be bad, in my book)
Good televisiom, e.g., Breaking Bad; Parks and Recreation
Popcorn with real butter, with spice drops mixed in
Dum Dums cream soda lollipop (which I always get as my treat after we visit the pediatrician. Because mom often needs a treat after the pediatrician, too.)
Pumpkin Pie
New: Laundry dried on the line
Minnesota State Fair
Autumn
New comic day
Root beer
Butterscotch pudding

And you?

This morning at the bus stop, one mom said she’d saved all her concert Ts, imagining she’d make a quilt out of them. I asked what her first concert was.

“Tesla!”

I asked the dad next to us, and he said, “Yes.” I was about to repeat the question when I realized he had answered it, which he clarified by adding “90125.” Which, thanks to my husband, who introduced 8yo Drake to Yes, gets played way more (meaning, at all) in our house than I’d like it to. Yeah, I remember the many versions of Leave It on MTV, and I owned the album on vinyl, but still.

My first concert was Sting’s Dream of the Blue Turtles tour. I told my friends this morning there was a story which I couldn’t tell while the kids were still around. I realized later I’d gotten mixed up in my head. The Sting concert isn’t much of a story.

I went with my friend P. We lived outside Columbus OH, and the concert was at a new outdoor stadium near Cincinnati. I drove. I think we bought some beer and waited to drink it there. Once in the stadium, though, when nature called, we discovered something upsetting. The venue had no bathrooms. And if we went outside the venue, we wouldn’t be allowed back in. In retrospect, this seems unbelievable. And perhaps it wasn’t true. We had been drinking. My memory of that concert is of holding it for 2 hours until we could finally leave the venue, and then waiting in what seemed an endless line at a porta-potty. Someone later told me that bladders don’t stretch. I’m pretty sure mine grew two sizes that day.

See? Not a great story. The one I was thinking of involved the same friend and going to see Desperately Seeking Susan. But that is another story for another day.

A friend recently admitted to me that she doesn’t like yoga. She tried. She knew many others, including me, loved it. But she didn’t even like it, though felt a great relief at admitting it.

Herewith, a short list of things I don’t love. Guilty displeasures, perhaps? (and there are exceptions of course. But they are few.)

CSAs
The Help
Life of Pi
Valet parking
Live theater
Poetry
Jazz
Navy blue

What things do others love that you don’t, and perhaps feel guilty about?

We’re still on the Soderbergh kick after reading that article on his films in Slate.

The Good German (2009) I fell asleep by the end, and didn’t care that I missed it. My husband filled me in so I didn’t have to go back to watch it. It’s a gorgeous-looking black-and-white homage to post WWII movies, with Clooney as an army reporter visiting Berlin, Blanchett as a femme fatale, and Tobey Maguire as a smarmy kid. Clooney and Maguire’s performances felt unnatural, and the complications of the plot made me tired, not interested. I love The Third Man and Casablanca and many of Soderbergh’s films, but I didn’t even much like this. Uneven and disappointing.

The Informant! (2010) Matt Damon is an agribusiness executive in the 90’s who volunteers to inform on his company for price fixing. It’s clear from the beginning that things aren’t quite right, but the gradual reveals, the cheery music, and comedians playing straight men (Joel McHale, Patton Oswalt, Buster from Arrested Development) all contribute to an entertaining film and character study.

Thor (2011) Our DVR received finally crashed. If we got a new one, it would be HD, so it didn’t make sense to have an old TV, so we got a new HD one, and it didn’t make sense to have HD tv but not Bluray (you’re all following this rationalization, right?) so we got a Bluray player, and had to get a movie on Bluray to test it out, and I picked Thor, because I was interested to see if I found Chris Hemsworth as hot in HD as I did in the theater. Yep. But I’m finding the whole Bluray/HD thing disconcerting, and not sure if I’m ready for this, but ready or not, here it is. Thor is a good B movie, capably directed by Kenneth Branagh, who draws heavily on the themes of his Henry V. Kat Dennings steals all her scenes, Natalie Portman is fine, Loki is a tremendous villain, but Thor’s Valhalla crew are dead weight.