Girl Detective

There’s been a lot of noise lately about whether the information is making us, people in general and students in particular, stupid. Helpfully, the Chronicle of Higher Ed collected links to many recent articles and followed it with another article suggesting the solution is to support teachers, not vilify the digital age. (Links from Arts & Letters Daily)

As with many (most?) internet kerfuffles, I think the problem is blown out of proportion by the bloviation, and the answer’s pretty simple. Is Google/internet/lack of liberal arts/overemphasis on liberal arts/etc. making us stupid?

Only if we let it.

Google, blogs and feeds are part of my reading, writing and research life. Since graduate school, I’ve become an autodidact, learning on my own about subjects that interest and are relevant to me. The internet and its increased presence has been, and continues to be, an important part of this learning process. Even more important, though, is and always has been, reading full texts. Reading things about the texts. Thinking about them. And then finding out what others think about them. For the latter, the internet is an invaluable resource, as a supplement to, not a substitute for, real-time, in-person interaction.a v

As in many aspects of life, variety contributes to a balanced experience. The internet and Google are tools, not the toolbox.

To borrow a phrase from Mental Multivitamin: Read. Think. Learn.

I’d add, “in all the ways we can.”

Last month, Anne Trubek’s article at Good Magazine questioned Catcher in the Rye’s place in the canon, and wondered whether other, more recent fare might suit students as well or better. (Link from ALoTT5MA, among others.) Most commenters were outraged that she even suggest such a thing, and further ridiculed several of her choices. My question is why not complement, not replace, Catcher with something else, so as to compare and contrast? I commented at the article to this effect, and more.

I reread Catcher within the last few years, and found it a mixed bag. I did not empathize with Holden. MFS, who blogs at Mental Multivitamin, one of my favorite learning blogs, is an unabashed defender of Holden. I think he’s worthy of questioning. I also enjoyed Frank Portman’s irreverant homage/critique of Catcher, King Dork.

Mamma Mia!, based on the Abba musical, is not perfect, but it’s enough fun that I didn’t much care. Meryl Streep is Donna, who has raised her daughter by herself on a beautiful Greek island, in a falling-down hotel. The daughter, Sophie, (Amanda Seyfried, Lilly from Veronica Mars) is getting married, and, unbeknownst to Donna, has invited three of her mother’s old boyfriends, one of whom is her biological father. Whoever cast Streep, Pierce Brosnan, Stellan SkarsgÃ¥rd and Colin Firth knew what they were doing. These actors, along with Christine Baranski and Julie Walters as Donna’s friends, steal the show, and seem to have a fine time doing so. The kids are mostly an afterthought. The familiar songs, the enthusiastic renditions of them, and the engaging cast all made this enjoyable. The directing wasn’t strong, with too many cuts, some voices were better than others, and SkarsgÃ¥rd looked oddly grim much of the time, but the overall effect was joyful and fun. It’s a sweet romance for grownups, not teenagers, for a change. According to IMDB, Streep is the oldest of the adults, at 59, then Walters 58, SkarsgÃ¥rd 57, Brosnan 55, Baranski 52, and Firth, the baby of the bunch, 48.

Side note: I took an immediate dislike to Sophie’s betrothed, Sky, and didn’t remember where I’d seen him before. Once I looked him up, I knew why he’d bothered me; he played the oily, dishonest Willoughby in the recent PBS production of Sense and Sensibility.

I wavered on seeing Eastern Promises in theaters. The good reviews, for the film in general and Viggo Mortensen’s performance in particular, made me want to see it. The allusions to its extreme violence deterred me. I compromised, and finally watched on dvd. This is a good film, well-directed and well acted, not only by Mortensen. The story has to be read as a sort of fable, since its particulars are so familiar: a talented poor outsider (Mortenson) works his way up the power structure when a seemingly paternal but actually cruel leader (Armin Mueller-Stahl) is increasingly disappointed in his own son (Vincent Cassel), while a beautiful blond woman (Naomi Watts) toils for justice. Moses, Jesus, and the intervening two millennia have supplied similar setups; I was reminded much of Braveheart. Much of the film’s tension rested on creating horror at the fate of a 14yo girl, and fear for the fate of a baby. These devices felt tired to me as well. The violence is extreme. I spent several scenes looking at the ceiling or through interlaced fingers. But the full-frontal scene of Mortensen, in case you were curious, was more astonishing to me for what he did while nude than for the nudity itself. It truly was a case of the nudity serving the scene and the story. Overall, the particulars–Naomi Watts as a concerned bystander, Mortensen as a taciturn mystery man, and the intrigue and complexity of the Russian mob scen–combine to transcend the simplistic features of the story.

This blog is experiencing some difficulties. High summer is in high gear and I’ve been cooking fresh veggies, doing insane amounts of laundry, and getting Drake ready for preschool. Please forgive the lack of new posts, and especially how behind I am on responding to comments. I read and appreciate every one (that’s not spam).

I have been reading and watching movies. I saw Eastern Promises. Good performances that carried a not-that-original story and characters. Very violent, but interesting. I saw Mamma Mia, which was not a great film but still a lot of fun. It sent me back to my Abba Gold cd, rather than out to buy the soundtrack. Pierce Brosnan isn’t as bad as I’d been led to believe, but I prefer the originals. I finally made it through all four hours of Branagh’s Hamlet. I’ll have more to say, but I HATED the music. And I finished Zot! 1987 to 1991. It’s a great collection of a great series. I was sad all over again when I got to the end of Zot, Jenny, and everyone else’s stories.

I’m hoping that after the equinox the universe will settle down again. This mad frenzy at end of summer is really exhausting. I hope to be posting, replying, and commenting again soon.

There was much crying and screaming at bedtime last night. I wonder, is the “price” of a good day a difficult bedtime? We met friends at the pool, then met them again later for burgers, hot dogs and great french fries at the Bulldog NE, picked by Minnesota Monthly as having the best burger in the state. After that, bedtime was challenging. But once Drake and Guppy were _in_ bed, they stayed there and fell asleep quickly, so G. Grod could watch a bit more of Branagh’s Hamlet. I’m not sure how I made it through all four hours in the theater when it came out. I can’t make it through an entire hour without nodding off. Then again, I was unmarried, without kids and twelve years younger in ‘96.

As I’ve mentioned already, Drake turned five recently. We had a party with friends and family in PA a few days prior, and he requested a dinosaur cake. Here’s what I made. While not as pretty as the model I worked from, I was pleased with the result, especially the white gumdrop teeth and pale green frosting, which I made by mixing pureed fresh spinach into a vanilla buttercream.

As soon as he got home from work, my husband G. Grod, 5yo Drake, 2.5yo Guppy and I piled in the car and headed west of Minneapolis to where G and I first lived when we moved here ten years ago, St. Louis Park. First, we went to Half Price Books, and found a huge pile of delightful books and dvds, all an extra 20% off. Then we went to Noodles and Company for supper (I love the Mushroom Stroganoff with Sriracha sauce), and Ben & Jerry’s for ice cream (I never get anything else besides Chocolate Therapy). We took a walk around part of Lake Calhoun, then headed home to get the boys ready for bed, during which Guppy peed in the potty for the second time, ever. Then G. and I watched an episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer from Season 2, “The Dark Age.”

It was a wonderful evening.

Half-Price Books (a US used book, movie and music store) is having a sale over Labor Day Weekend with an extra 20% off everything in the store, which is almost all at least half price already. Our little family brought home quite a stack of books and dvds last night; a pic to come, I hope.

Coming downstairs in the morning, 5yo Drake announced, “Mom, I have BAD NEWS.”

I replied calmly, “Oh? What is it?”

“BOTH my nostrils are BLOODY.”

I did a quick check. He had a little bit of dried blood around his nose, on his face and his pajamas. It’s weed season for allergies, and he’s had a tough time. I dabbed gently at his face with a tissue. “Better?” I asked.

“Oh, yes!” he grinned, and ran into the kitchen for breakfast.

Later that day, I awoke from a nap to find Drake standing in front of me, panting and sobbing.

“Mom, I’m in GREAT DANGER in the basement!”

I took him in my arms and asked, for the second time that day, “Oh? What is it?”

“A SPIDER!” he said, continuing to tremble. “It MOVED!”

“Would you like me to kill it?”

“Yes!”

And so I took a shoe to the basement and killed a mostly harmless brown house spider. “Better?” I asked.

“Oh, yes!” he grinned, and settled back down on the couch to finish his show.

In the short story “A Night at the Fair,” Fitzgerald described over eighty years ago what so many people still experience today at the Minnesota State Fair. I was surprised and delighted to find that much about the fair hasn’t changed.

The Magnificent Fair

The two cities were separated only by a thin well-bridged river; their tails curling over the banks met and mingled, and at the juncture, under the jealous eye of each, lay, every fall, the State Fair. Because of this advantageous position, and because of the agricultural eminence of the state, the fair was one of the most magnificent in America. There were immense exhibits of grain, livestock and farming machinery…a grand exhibition of fireworks…took place in the Grand Concourse every night.

Boys at the Fair

At the late afternoon of a hot September day two boys of fifteen, somewhat replete with food and pop, and fatigued by eight hours of constant motion, issued from the Penny Arcade.

Sensations of the Fair

The first lights of the evening were springing into pale existence; the afternoon crowd had thinned a little, and the lanes, empty of people, were heavy with the rich various smells of pop corn and peanuts, molasses and dust and cooking Wienerwurst and a not- unpleasant overtone of animals and hay. The Ferris wheel, pricked out now in lights, revolved leisurely through the dusk; a few empty cars of the roller coaster rattled overhead. The heat had blown off and there was the crisp stimulating excitement of Northern autumn in the air.

Night at the Fair

Once again the fair–but differing from the fair of the afternoon as a girl in the daytime differs from her radiant presentation of herself at night. The substance of the cardboard booths and plaster palaces was gone, the forms remained. Outlined in lights, these forms suggested things more mysterious and entrancing than themselves, and the people strolling along the network of little Broadways shared this quality, as their pale faces singly and in clusters broke the half darkness.

Yes, many things have changed. There are no aeroplanes, horse races or hoochie-coochie shows. And the wienerwurst has been replaced by the Pronto Pup (from Minnesota), the corn dog (an Iowa import), and the absolutely delicious pork-chop-on-a-stick. But the sights, the smells, and the fair as an event–all these abide.

After I saw the new black-and-white Zot! collection at Big Brain Comics, I went back to my shelf for the out-of-print Zot! Book 1, which collected the first ten issues of Zot! by Scott McCloud. The issues were in color, and published by dear, departed Kitchen Sink. McCloud has gone on from his 80’s series to push the boundaries of comics production, and write books about the history and future of comics: Understanding Comics, Reinventing Comics, and the new Making Comics.

In his introduction, McCloud makes it clear that the first ten issues of Zot! were his training ground. He acknowledges, but doesn’t apologize (much) for the simple story and evolving visual style. Nonetheless, this collection still delights. It came out around the same time as Alan Moore’s Watchmen and Frank Miller’s Dark Knight Returns, and is a refreshing, hopeful, counterbalance to those dystopic visions–a comic sorbet, if you will. Zot is Zachary Paleozogt, a blond teen superhero from an alternate Earth. When he crashes into ours, literally, he meets Jenny Weaver and her brother Butch, and wacky hijinks ensue in the pursuit of a golden key to the door at the end of the universe.

Butch, to Zot: What do you know about being a superhero, anyway? What’re your powers? A Gun?? Boot jets?? Feh! Y’gotta be mnore aggressive, kid! Get mean. Kill a few people! And stop grinning so much!!

Zot: ?

Butch: All the good heroes act like they big problems all the time…

Zot: But, what if I don’t have any big problems?

Butch: That’s OK, neither do they! They just act like they do! C’mon, get serious! Give it a try!

Zot: Uh, all right. [Glares, then bursts into laughter.] I can’t do it!

Butch: Hopeless…

Zot! is a sweet book with substance, great for young adults and jaded older ones, too.

One of the source materials for Shakespeare’s Hamlet was a legend recorded by Saxo in Historiae Danicae, published in 1514. The brother of the king killed Prince Amleth’s father, then married the queen. A friend of the uncle planned to hide in the queen’s chamber so he could overhear a conversation between her and Amleth, like Polonius does in Shakespeare’s play. Amleth “in his mad antics (crowing, flapping his arms, and jumping up and down on the bedding) discovered him and killed him.”

The description of Amleth’s mad antics reminded me at least as much of Tom Cruise’s infamous appearance on Oprah as it did of the version of the scene from Shakespeare’s play.

When we returned to MN from the east coast, 5yo Drake began to snuffle pathetically, and his eye itched and wept. I called my retired-allergist father and asked what had triggered these allergies. He said mid August was weed season, early evening was the worst time of day, and had a few recommendations:

Children’s Benadryl
Opcon A
Nasalcrom
Air conditioning rather than open windows.

He said weeding the yard wouldn’t make much of a difference, since week pollen travels quickly and for long distances. Which is good, because I’m no match for all the weeds in our tiny yard.

5yo Drake and I enjoy different things at the fair. He wants to ride rides, watch rides, and eat cotton candy and caramel apples. I want to watch the chef demonstrations and food panels, visit the Fine Arts and Creative Activities buildings, eat a fish taco, drink minty lemonade and get a mocha frappe. Fortunately, there were a few things we agreed on and shared:

Fresh peach and pluot
Cedar Summit cups milk
Tom Thumb mini donuts
Lingonberry sno cone
Tater Tots on a stick
Wild rice hamburger
Roasted corn on the cob
1919 root beer
Nitro ice-cream cone

Next year I think we’ll go once as a family, and I’ll get a sitter so I can go by myself on MN Cooks Day.

your kid is in the same class as the kid of the guy from the band [you used to worship], commented my friend A.

A friend with no kids has a high pressure, high stakes job. One 12-hour shift, she experienced non-stop need–people needing her care, attention, and help with administrative details.

“It was utterly exhausting,” she said. “And I realized, this is what mothers deal with, EVERY DAY.”

The mothers among us nodded, and smiled tiredly. Yep.

Or merely human? Pre-parenthood, I had no idea how much mess, noise, chaos, poop, and screaming was in store. I thought there would be unpleasantness balanced with joy. But I’ve found the joy to unpleasantness ratio discouragingly low up to now, with kids at 2.5 and 5yo.

Many mothers have told me that the 5 and 7 sibling age period is when things improve. I doubt it is a coincidence that those ages mean that both children are in school.

It has been a long summer. Beautiful weather, and many joys. But also much drudgery and frustration. I think we’ll all be happy to spend time with other people when preschool starts next week.

I took 2 1/2 weeks to read the Arden 2nd Series Hamlet, edited by Harold Jenkins. I read the introduction, play, footnotes and long notes at the end, and the effort was well spent. I’m going to follow the reading with at least one dvd production. It’s in print as a book, but was intended to be experienced in a theater.

Is this the second greatest story ever told?

More on Hamlet as I’m able. So many passages to quote–perhaps you should just read it again, too. I highly recommend it!

We have moved 5yo Drake and 2.5yo Guppy into the same room, with Guppy on the bottom bunk and out of his crib. Bedtimes have been unpleasant in the week or so since it happened. Boys up, running about the house, trying to sneak peeks of the television and movies that G. Grod and I watch at night. And from us, there are escalating threats about horrors like closing the top-of-stair gate, turning off the hall light, and closing the bedroom door.

But the boys are waking later in the morning. I get quiet time to myself. But no trifecta yet; Guppy is waking at least once a night after the transition, and I’m wondering if I need to break out the Ferber and Mindell books again.