Girl Detective

At the Atlantic, “Two–Make that Three–Cheers for the Chain Bookstores.” Link from the NBCC blog, Critical Mass.

Although there is some reality in the image of the chains as predators (ours is a capitalist economy, after all), it is not the whole truth or even, perhaps, the most important part. The emotional drive behind the anti-chain crusade is an understandable mistrust of big corporations allied with the knee-jerk snobbery that is never far from the surface in American cultural life. “I am a reader,” the interior litany goes, “therefore I belong to a privileged minority; I patronize exclusive bookstores known only to me and my intellectual peers.” With the chains, which target a wider public and make the process of book buying unthreatening to the relatively less educated, the exclusivity factor disappears.

I enjoyed the article, because I’ve always enjoyed Barnes and Noble and Borders. (Not so much Books a Million.) On a trip to London, I can’t tell you how many happy hours I whiled away browsing in Waterstone’s, and admiring their floor by floor displays. I also shop at amazon.com. And my independent book and comic stores. I love books; I love shopping. Therefore I love bookshops.

I’m really enjoying Season 5. Last season it was pretty clear from the get go who the final three were going to be, and they were so talented that something of the joy of competition for a supposedly amateur prize got lost. This season, though, has a mad mix of personalities, from “leathuh”-lovin’ Stella to 3rd-person using Suede. The judges are so bitchy they sound like they might have been at the bar just before coming to judge’s table. Perhaps my only complaint is that Bravo has thrown in the towel with its marketing, spoiling all the surprises of what the challenge and who the guest judge is going to be, both on its site and in the previews.

Last night’s Olympic challenge was a nice variation on the ice skating challenge from season 1. Only Joe seemed to realize he was designing for people with muscles, but he still came in third, after Korto’s striking white outfit and Terri’s impressive, though boob-squashing, three-piece stunner.

Jennifer’s choice was baffling. She keeps saying she’s a surrealist, but I didn’t see it at all. Like Daniel’s, her outfit looked vintage, not modern, and definitely not sporty. Daniel is a pouty, anxious (remember Daniel Franco?) guy who I hope goes soon. Blayne really needs a smack upside the head about the dangers of tanning. He’s going to look 23 going on 45 sooner than he imagines. Terri, LeeAnne and Korto are the ones to watch, I think. And if Joe couldn’t win last night’s challenge, after insisting again and again that he would, he should just go home.

For more commentary on last night’s episode, visit Project Rungay.

Sara Mosle of Slate writes about traveling with her kid, and doesn’t feel the love for the GoGo Kidz Travelmate, which has been a staple of our family travel for over a dozen trips in three years now. It’s not perfect, but we’ve never had to remove the wheels at security. They either send it through a larger machine or wand it. We’ve been able to forgo taking a stroller when we visit family, and the thing gets so much attention in airports you’d think we were rock stars, which can be a nice little esteem boost on a harried traveling day.

Link there from Game Theorist, where the author agrees with Mosle on two points: buy a seat for your under-2 kid, especially if you’re parenting solo; and pack as if for a desert island.

I’ve found it’s good to prepare for the worst, with ample food, toys, books, diapers and bribes, ahem, rewards for good behavior. But paying for the seat? I never paid for a seat for Drake before he was two, even when I traveled alone with him. I’d haul the infant seat up to the checkin desk, ask if there was an available seat, which there always was, get moved so I had the adjacent seat, and voila: seat without paying for it. I was given this advice by kind author Jennifer Weiner, who I’d emailed before a trip to her hometown, Philly.

For now-2yo Guppy’s first two or three roundtrips, I had him in my Maya Wrap sling, with older brother Drake in the seat next to me. The Maya Wrap made it easy for me to transport baby Guppy and nurse him on ascent and descent to protect his ears. It also encouraged him to sleep, which he did for all but one very screamy Maya-Wrapped flight.

Which brings me to my travel advice, which is really more emotional than what to stock in your diaper bag. Yes, there are a few things I do, like give my kids a prophylactic dose of Tylenol before they fly. (Many swear by Benadryl, but many also curse it because it can backfire and make the kid wired, instead.) I am also not afraid to ask for help from flight attendants and strangers.

But the thing that’s held me in best stead over flights both good and terrible is to know that flying with kids is largely about luck. Sometimes it’s good–weather’s good, kid is good, all is well. Sometimes it’s bad–flight delayed, long time on plane without moving, blowout diaper, peed-in pants, inconsolable screaming. And I won’t know what kind of luck I’ll get till the trip is done. So I tell myself to enjoy it if it’s good, and try not to flip out if it’s bad. I try to remain calm, apologize within reason to those around me (many of whom have told me not to worry; they had umpteen kids at home and they know what it’s like and can they give me a hand?), and put on the best parenting behavior that I can, even when (note, not “if”) I’ve felt like screaming and crying, or running to the restroom to hide.

This week’s 2.5 hour flight with the kids was a dream. The flight left on time, arrived early, and the kids never fussed. They were happy with books the whole time. I enjoyed it. And I can only hope that we’ll have such a good experience on the return flight. But I know, too, what to do when (note, not “if”) it doesn’t go as well.

A few geeky tidbits gleaned from reading Titus Andronicus.

For Battlestar Galactica fans:

Goths: As he saith, so say we all with him (5.1.17)

For Buffy the Vampire Slayer fans:

Cocytus’ misty mouth (2.3.237): While Cocytus refers to a a river in the classical underworld of Hades, the phrase Cocytus’ misty mouth may suggest the hellmouth, or entrance into hell, that was a stage property in Christian cycle drama still performed in the sixteenth century in England.

I saw a production of Titus Andronicus a few weeks ago. It was an all-female, creatively staged outdoor production. I brought popcorn, a lawn chair, and I loved it. Interestingly, I enjoyed it far more than I did the Guthrie’s recent Midsummer Night’s Dream, which had bells and whistles aplenty. The latter production, full of songs and elaborate stage pieces, distracted me from the play itself. The Titus production, though, made me _think_ about the play, and want to read it to muse on it further: the contrast of casting women in such a violent, patriarchal play; using a circus as background, and the setting of the 1930’s Dustbowl, an era of US history I’d read about recently (The Grapes of Wrath and Out of the Dust), and during which government and family were painfully relevant issues.

Titus is one of Shakespeare’s earliest, and bloodiest tragedies. The title character returns to Rome triumphant from war against the Goths. Their queen and her sons are his prisoners. He refuses the crown of the deceased emperor, and instead names the emperor’s elder son Saturninus, though the younger might have been better suited. As a token for the twenty-one sons he lost in the war, Titus kills the Queen’s eldest son. An entire play of very bad things ensue as he discovers that family, not the state, are where his loyalties should, and do, lie.

Why, foolish Lucius, dost though not perceive
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers?
Tigers must prey, and Rome affords no prey
But me and mine…

What fool hath added water to the sea
Or brought a faggot to bright-burning Troy?

The chief villain is the Queen’s lover, Aaron the Moor. Utterly without scruple for most of the play:

what you cannot as you would achieve,
You must perforce accomplish as you may.

Aaron also comes to learn the value of family, when his infant son is threatened repeatedly with death.

The play includes many murders, a brutal rape, and several disfigurements. It is not for the faint, or to read with breakfast. But the tale of an aging military man losing a battle against change is timeless.

I also very much enjoyed Julie Taymor’s spectacular film of Titus, starring Sir Anthony Hopkins in the lead. Filmed at Rome’s famed Cinecitta, the look of the play must be seen to be appreciated. Taymor’s elaborately visual production enhances the extreme events of this difficult work.

Some, including Shakespeare scholar Harold Bloom, argue that Titus Andronicus is a dark comedy, spoofing popular violent plays of the time. Either way, it’s an interesting play to see and read, though not a masterpiece.

At the Guardian, Hilary Mantel on “Real Books in Imaginary Houses” (link from Pages Turned)

But I am intrigued by the divide between those people If who say “I haven’t time to read”, and those for whom reading is like breathing and who, though they may be caught up with all sorts of texts, always have a novel on the go. For some people, the consumption of stories is a barely conscious function that runs parallel to eating, sleeping, having sex and earning a living. How do you live life without stories - live in just a single narrative, and that one your own?

One of the things I’ve learned about myself after having two children, now 2 and 4, is that I need to read and write. If I don’t, I become cranky, anxious and depressed. So I’ve had to remake my life to carve out time for these things. I have to say no to things. I have to remind myself that I don’t need any more hobbies, thank you, I have more than I can manage right now.

And I supposed that’s the only way I can understand someone who says “I don’t have time to read.” S/he must have some other passion, talent or hobby that comes first. Likely one that I’d say, “Oh, I don’t have time for that.”

Hamlet, on Facebook. (Link from Morning News and ALoTT5MA)

Guess what? White people love Facebook (link from my friend lxbean), which I recently joined. I’m discouraged by how many things I like that White People like–81 out of 106, right now. I don’t delude myself that I’m unique, but it’s a humbling reminder of how herd-like my supposedly independent thinking is.

At the Literary Review, Philip Davis argues that reading Shakespeare changes our brains in the moment, not by discussing it after the fact. (Link from Arts & Letters Daily)

Shakespeare is stretching us, making us more alive, at a level of neural excitement never fully exorcised by later conceptualisation; he is opening up the possibility of further peaks, new potential pathways or developments.

He offers early studies of brain activity to back up his theory. I’ll be interested to see if these experiments are sound and stand up to scrutiny. I’d also be interested to learn if there’s a difference in the brain’s response to reading Shakespeare versus hearing/seeing Shakespeare performed, as it was intended.

At the Guardian, Alice Wignall uses the opening of the “Angus, Thongs and Perfect Snogging” film to muse about “the power of teenage literary passions.” (Link from Bookslut)

The truth is that you never love books the way you do as a young reader. My generation consumed with fanatical zeal the works of Judy Blume and Paula Danziger and the far less wholesome American series, Sweet Valley High. And contemporary teenagers are just as likely to be found with their heads stuck in a book.

I am one of about two people in the universe who didn’t like the Angus book, but I can see why so many do, because it reminded me strongly of two books that I LOVE, Pride and Prejudice and Bridget Jones’ Diary.

I don’t think I do love books I read now, as an adult, as ardently or so well as I did those when I was young. That’s why reading Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, Dodie Smith’s I Captured the Castle and Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice for the first time as an adult was bittersweet; I wished I’d been re-reading them since girlhood.

I read Blume and Danziger (The Solid Gold Kid was a favorite), but missed the Sweet Valley High phenomenon by a few years. I was reading Anne of Green Gables, Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden and the Hardy Boys right up till I started sneaking more salacious fare, like Blume’s Forever and Wifey, Judith Krantz’s Scruples, Princess Daisy and Mistral’s Daughter, Mary Stewart’s The Crystal Cave, Lace by Shirley Conran, Judith McNaught and Kathleen E. Woodiwiss’s bodice rippers, Anne McCaffrey’s Dragonriders of Pern series, and those truly dreadful V.C. Andrews books. Of these, I might have one Pern book still on my shelf. All the rest have been duly and rightfully purged. And yet, I didn’t just love them, I LOVED! them, and I feel affection for them for that, if nothing else.

Wignall’s essay suggests that boys aren’t nearly as impressed by what they read as are girls. I question this, though. Tolkien, Harry Potter? Superman, Batman, X-Men, et al? Where would these be without their fervent boy-reader followings?

How about you–do you love certain books with the same fervor as when you were young?

If you enjoyed the viral dance video, “Where in the Hell is Matt?” you’ll probably enjoy this new video featuring the same vocalist, Palbasha Siddique. If you still haven’t watched Matt dancing, please do so immediately. MinnPost’s Michael Metzgar sums it up well:

The “Matt” video features American video game designer Matt Harding doing a goofy little dance in spectacular settings around the world, often accompanied by the indigenous people of the 42 countries he visited. It struck a chord somehow, linking the world in silly, unabashed happiness. (emphasis mine)

I first found the Matt video through a link on a national news site. So I was pretty surprised to find that the vocalist for Matt’s video lives IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD. She’s visiting family in Bangladesh right now, competing in an American-Idol-esque competition.

The popularity of the Matt video spurred her to make “Maa”, about longing for home, with her band, Melange. The song is similar to, and the video reminiscent, of Matt’s. It’s set in and around downtown Minneapolis, so it has a lot of pleasant associations for me. In one shot, you can see the building G. Grod and I lived in when 4yo Drake was born.

If you squint and use your imagination, this looks kinda like superhero versions of G. Grod and me.

Dead End Kids is the fourth collection of Runaways, the young adult superhero series created by acclaimed comics writer Brian K. Vaughan (Y the Last Man, Ex Machina, and more.) (Reviews of volumes 1, 2 and 3, here.) Buffy creator Joss Whedon takes over the writing reins for another story about a group of misfit kids from LA whose parents were supervillains. They’re trying, and succeeding about as often as they fail, to do good, unlike their parents.

Their LA hideout was busted, so they seek the help of their parents’ former colleague, the Kingpin. They think they can manipulate him for a place to stay, but soon end up on the wrong side of the Punisher and a LOT of ninjas. They get away, but strand themselves in 1907, surrounded by warring factions of “Wonders,” as the super-powered people of that time were called.

Like much of Whedon’s work, the story has a girl whose power alienates her from others, and both she and others have to make tremendous personal sacrifices. Some endings are happy, but not all. This is a good read, for fans of the ongoing series and for fans of Whedon.

I heard about The White Darkness, by Geraldine McCaughrean, at Semicolon. Then I learned that it had won the Printz Award and was set in Antarctica. I was in.

Fourteen year old Symone has hearing aids, a problem fitting in, and an imaginary friend who lives in her head–there may be a connection between the last two. He’s Captain Laurence “Titus” Oates, and died ninety years ago on Scott’s ill-fated expedition to the South Pole.

Symone’s uncle surprises her with a trip to London, then suggests they go south. He doesn’t mean the Riviera. They join a tourist expedition to Antarctica, and bad things happen. There are many things that don’t make sense, to Sym or the reader. While Sym is slow to catch on, all is revealed in time.

This novel has beautiful prose descriptions of what sounds like a wondrous place, and mixes history, mystery and imagination in a compelling way. This was a tremendous read.

Alex Robinson’s Too Cool to Be Forgotten is a great graphic novel for young adults and older ones, too. With all the graphic novels out there for teen girls, it was nice to read one about a teen boy. It rather reminded me of Judy Blume’s Then Again, Maybe I Won’t, because it’s a boy book in a girl market. Yet it’s for just about anyone, really. Robinson has a great sense of humor and humanity, and a wonderful way of capturing the indignities of everyday life. He’s got a confident, accessible art style that helps to bring his characters to life.

Forty-ish Andy Wicks tries hypnosis to kick his smoking habit. But things don’t go as he expected–instead he’s transported back to 1985, his sophomore year in high school. The adult-in-a-teenage-body story has been done many times, but rarely with so much skill and sympathy. Yes, Andy asks out the girl he was too afraid to the first time around, but as the story progresses, we see more and more how things are connected from Andy’s past to his present.

The book itself is a lovely little hardcover; publisher Top Shelf delivers a typically high-quality production again. Funny, sad and sweet, Too Cool to Be Forgotten is great for anyone (all of us?) who have ever wondered what we would do if we could do things over again.

I highly recommend the Hellboy graphic novel collections. They’re high quality, with author commentary, passionate introductions by famous fans, and generous extra stories and material. Hellboy: Strange Places, though, was darker and more murky than the previous volumes. Creator Mike Mignola writes that he was influenced by 9/11, and that there were several stops and starts to the main story. Certainly it’s much less humorous than the preceding books, but it still has its moments, like a pig-demon intent on revenge, and Hellboy’s commentary on the odd and scary creatures he has to deal with:

Hey, giant fish-lady! Let’s get this show on the road!

If you’re new to the Hellboy graphic novels, Strange Places is not a good place to start–for that I recommend the beginning, Seed of Destruction. But the art is stunning, and the hints about Hellboy’s past and future continue to tantalize.

FYI, if you have seen the movie(s), there are some differences from the books, which have no romance with Liz, and a smarter, more sympathetic and nuanced Hellboy. But the books and movies are each great on their own merits.

A friend of a friend once theorized that people’s lives get busy at the height of summer because we’re creatures of the earth. Whether we’re aware of it, we’re attuned to the passage of time from the summer solstice to the autumn equinox, when our ancestors would have been busy tending and harvesting summer crops, fighting off pests and weeds, and storing things away for winter. We no longer live a hunter/gatherer lifestyle, but I know very few people who have lazy grasshopper summers. Most people, myself included, are busy with real or metaphorical crops and weeds.

Normally, I’m anti-gadget. They clutter the house, they break, they create more work than they save. Yet I’ve been very happy with three recent purchases:

Cherry pitter: 2yo Guppy doesn’t have to negotiate the pits, and both he and 4yo Drake love to use it–it’s a new favorite reward for good behavior. We eat Door County cherries straight, or use them in homemade vanilla ice cream (like this recipe from Baking Beauties) with Potion 9 chocolate on top. Mmm.

Mandoline: A $10 purchase at Target, this made-in-China one is flimsy, but it’s getting lots of use in spite of that. The thin slicer attachment does great work on radishes (for eating with sweet butter on fresh bakery bread), cucumbers, and carrots for salads. When it breaks, I think I’m likely to spring for a better-made one.

Lemon/Lime juicer: I’ve used a stainless juicer with basin, a Robocop-lookin’ thing, and a reamer over a sieve over a bowl. But this thing gets maximum juice and maximum flavor from both lemons and limes. I think it’s strong enough to get out some of the oil from the rind. Great for guacamole:

Guacamole (from a recipe from Cooks Illustrated)

Makes about 1 1/2 cups
2 small avocados , ripe, (preferably Haas)
1 tablespoon minced red onion or scallion
1 small clove garlic , minced or pressed through garlic press
1/2 small jalapeño chile , minced (about 1 1/2 teaspoons), ribs and seeds removed to temper heat
2 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro or Italian parsley leaves
Table salt
1 tablespoon lime juice from 1 lime

1. Halve 1 avocado, remove pit, and scoop flesh into medium bowl. Using fork, mash lightly with onion, garlic, jalapeño, cilantro, and 1/8 teaspoon salt until just combined.

2. Halve and pit remaining avocado. Using a dinner knife, carefully make 1/2-inch cross-hatch incisions in flesh, cutting down to but not through skin, (see illustrations below). Using a soupspoon, gently scoop flesh from skin; transfer to bowl with mashed avocado mixture. Sprinkle lime juice over and mix lightly with fork until combined but still chunky. Adjust seasoning with salt, if necessary, and serve. (Can be covered with plastic wrap, pressed directly onto surface of mixture, and refrigerated up to 1 day. Return guacamole to room temperature, removing plastic wrap just before serving.)

Seriously. Don’t these people have anything better to do than bug me?

From Apartment Therapy’s food site, The Kitchn:

Fridge-Clearing Avocado Soup:
serves 4 as a soup course, 16 or more as an amuse bouche

2 ripe avocados
2 cups spinach leaves, stems removed
1 cup plain yogurt
1 cup milk
small handful cherry tomatoes (about 1/2 cup)
1/2 cup chicken broth
juice of 1/2 lemon (about 2 tablespoons)
1 teaspoon fine salt
small handful basil leaves
coarse salt, like Maldon or Fleur de Sel and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

Place everything but a few tomatoes and the coarse salt into a blender and purée, gradually increasing the speed until soup is smooth. Adjust with more milk or broth if soup is too thick.

Serve immediately, or chill for an hour, topped with a few thin slices of tomato and a sprinkling of coarse salt. To serve as an amuse bouche, pour into shot glasses, or other small cordial glassware and top with a brunoise (tiny dice) of tomato and salt.

This was a great outline, since it was so hot last night that I didn’t feel like turning on the oven or the stove. Instead I got out the food processor and threw in a little of everything that I had, which is a lot after a good trip to the farmers market last weekend. And I didn’t worry about what I didn’t have (spinach) or forgot (milk) It turned out great, though the 2yo and 4yo still wouldn’t eat it, even after we told them it was a smoothie, and served it to them in a cup with a straw. They’re too clever by half. Here’s what I used:

avocados
cucumbers, peeled and seeded
chopped parsley, chives, dill
chopped scallions
garlic
juice of 1/2 lime
cherry tomatoes
yogurt
broth
salt
Tbl. pesto

I love the films of Baz Luhrmann. When I saw the trailer for his upcoming Australia, and heard the accompanying music, from one of my favorite films, Branagh’s Henry V, I got pretty excited. I know the music won’t necessarily be in the film, but the trailer + the music was quite stirring.

Hellboy II is a crazy visual feast from Guillermo del Toro, who also directed Pan’s Labyrinth. I was mesmerized again and again: the tooth fairies, troll market, the Miyazaki-influenced elemental, and more. The story is fine, if a bit thin. Selma Blair’s Liz has an unfortunate haircut and fashion sense. But the mix of humor, horror, and the fantastic made for a very fun film.

Geekiana: From his bio at IMDB: Doug Jones played Abe Sapien in both Hellboy and Hellboy II. His dialogue was dubbed in the first one by David Hyde Pierce, who declined a credit because he felt it would detract from Jones’ excellent performance. Jones spoke his own dialogue in Golden Army, and played multiple characters, as he did in Pan’s Labyrinth. Jones was the villain in the Emmy-nominated “Hush” episode of Buffy the Vampire Slayer.