Girl Detective

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.

Unless, of course, they don’t. Friday night I had what seemed very much like a gall bladder attack, after indulging in the Modern’s famous pot roast, which includes fork-tender meat, garlic mashed potatoes, melting carrots and veggies, all topped with a dollop of horseradish sour cream. Our family is pretty familiar with gall bladder symptoms, since G. Grod had them on and off for years before having his gall bladder removed earlier this year. Fortunately I had a prenatal checkup already scheduled for this week. When I described symptoms and said that this was the second time this had occurred during the pregnancy (the first at about 12 weeks), I was swiftly given more blood tests and signed up for a gall bladder ultrasound.

The good news is that I received an all clear–none of the tests showed anything to be concerned about. The bad news is that no one knows why I have had two episodes in 8 weeks that seem so gall-bladder-y. The best guess is a virus. I am worried, because I feel as if I’m waiting for a shoe to drop, wondering if I’ll have another episode. I am relieved, though, since I had lurid visions of having to undergo the same surgery that G. did, only at 20+ weeks pregnant.

In the meantime, I’ll follow the usual pregnancy advice to eat several small meals a day. I’ll also avoid especially rich or fatty foods, at least at night. Alas, no more post-dinner ice cream. I’ll have to fit it in after lunch, I guess.

#49 in my movie challenge for the year, Serenity, written and directed by Joss Whedon, was a movie that I got to see IN a movie theater and WITH my husband! A friend watched Drake while we went out to celebrate our anniversary with dinner and a movie. We were reminded that trying to squeeze in dinner and a movie is a challenge, and one that usually makes both events a little less enjoyable. This was true even before we had a child. The timing of movies is such that unless we can make an earlyish show and go to dinner afterward, we have to rush through dinner and off to the movie. Doing one or the other generally ensures that the experience can be savored at a more leisurely pace.

I was unable to make a reservation at my first choice of restaurant, and they had no walk-in tables or room at the bar when we arrived just after 6 p.m. We went across the street to the restaurant we used to frequent when we lived downtown, and were effusively greeted by our favorite waiter. We shared a savory wild mushroom and pistachio pate, served with cornichons, spicy mustard, cranberry chutney and toast. Then I had the sozai plate, a savory mixture of organic brown rice, natto miso, beans, steamed broccoli, arame sea vegetable, marinated tofu, daikon pickle, red cabbage salad and baked yams. G. Grod opted for the chicken with mole verde sauce and salad with prickly pear dressing. I hoped to try the cardamom and something rice pudding that I heard the server mention at an adjacent table, but in order to make our movie, we had to skip dessert.

But back to the movie. Serenity was good fun. It is both a continuation of Whedon’s cancelled television series Firefly, as well as a stand-alone ship-based sci-fi movie. Serenity is a sci-fi B movie at its zenith, with good effects, good production, and good writing. I think one would err, though, to consider it as an A movie, and that’s why I think some of the reviews have been middling. This is a movie that is too good for TV, but still solidly good enough for the movies, though it’s not high art. It’s swashbuckling entertainment, and worth seeing on the big screen.

#77 in my book challenge for the year, Snap is a children’s novel for grades five to eight, but I found nothing childish about it. McGhee’s usual lovely prose and complex characters were present, as was the town of Sterns in the Adirondack mountains. It is a profound pleasure to visit Sterns in McGhee’s books, even if the stories are so often sad.

Snap is narrated by Edwina, an almost seventh grader who goes by Eddie. She wears rubber bands around her wrist to try and tame bad habits. Her best friend Sally’s grandmother and caretaker, Willie, falls ill, and both Eddie and Sally must try to deal with their sadness. This is a bittersweet, short book that is profoundly respectful of its young readers. It does not pretend that loss and complicated families are any easier than they are.

#76 in my book challenge for the year, Invisible is a teen-fiction novel by Minnesotan Pete Hautman, who will be appearing at the Twin Cities Book Fest on October 15. Hautman’s previous book, Godless, won the National Book Award. He writes for both adults and teens.

Invisible is narrated by Dougie, and it a spare, disturbing book. Dougie’s spends most of his time working on building a bridge for his model train. His best friend is popular, football-player Andy. From the beginning, I knew that things aren’t right with Dougie. The book is all the more uncomfortable because I could also identify with the “mean” kids in high school who persecuted him. Dougie is so weird that I could easily see why he was picked on. Hautman skillfully tells the story, giving the history of Dougie and Andy’s relationship, and leading to what felt like a difficult but inevitable conclusion. Invisible reminded me of a shorter, less touchy-feely Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time, but also an American teen-boy version of Muriel Sparks’s The Driver’s Seat. It was powerful, unsettling, and moving.

#75 in my book challenge for the year, this mini-series and its subsequent graphic novel collections are like historical fiction of the DC universe, so a sort of meta-fiction about DC silver-age heroes like Hal Jordan and Barry Allen. This is both a history and a new story, though, so seasoned comic book readers have something new to read for. It is incredibly dense, so much so that I understand, though am annoyed by, the need to put one story into two graphic novels. Cooke’s art is distinctive and well-suited to the type of tale he’s telling. Additionally, each issue is dedicated to the writers/artists who created the heroes of the tale, and it is a skillful tribute. Best of all, for someone like me who does not have an encyclopedic knowledge of comic book history, it unfolds in such a way that new readers can get to know a character before finding out which superhero s/he is, while more experienced readers can have fun identifying who’s who.

#74 in my book challenge for the year, Was It Beautiful? by Minnesotan writer Alison McGhee, was, in fact, startlingly beautiful. I put off reading this book for a long time because I was afraid it was too sad. I based this on my readings of her two previous books, Rainlight and Shadow Baby, both of which were wildly lovely and terrifically sad. This one was supposed to be even more sad, and I wasn’t sure I could cope. I should have trusted the writer.

Was It Beautiful? is the story of William T. Jones, a formerly happy man who has lost his son, his wife, and his cat to various forces in a short time. Unsurprisingly, William T. is no longer happy. But how he copes and how his story unfolds is mesmerizing. In the end his suffering, and that of those around him, is redeemed. Crystal, a chararacter from Rainlight, gets an increasingly significant role in this book, and I was pleased that Crystal got her share of redemption as well. McGhee’s characters are so good it’s almost scary. They’re like warm tapestries that I want to draw around me and snuggle into on a cold night.

#73 in my book challenge for the year was The Queen of Everything. This book had a lot of good things, and a lot of distractions. 17 year old Jordan’s father suddenly starts acting weird when he begins an affair with a married woman. The book foreshadows a lot of what is to come. Jordan isn’t able to talk to her friend, who she doesn’t actually like very much, or her mother, who she dismisses as a hippie. When she tries to talk to her grandfather, bad things ensue. Jordan’s voice is strong, and she is a believable teen, though sometimes quite unlikeable. Her romance with a bad boy is painfully drawn out. Additionally, she often quotes Big Mama, a woman who helped her in the aftermath of the difficulties with her father. Jordan’s relationship with Big Mama, as well as Big Mama’s salmon anecdotes, reminded me unpleasantly of the movie cliche of the “Mystical Negro” who has to explain life lessons to the sheltered white kid. What stood out most, though, was how the nasty situation with Jordan’s father was not dumbed down or glossed over. This book doesn’t talk down to its intended young-adult readers.

#72 in my book challenge for the year, Magic or Madness was recommended to me by Duff at Girlreaction, who sent me this link, noting “This sounds like something you’d like.” Isn’t it wonderful to have other kindred readers looking out for you? I certainly think so, and this book is a great example. I liked it a lot, and thought it a really good young-adult fantasy novel. Reason is a fifteen year old Australian girl who has been on the run with her mother Sarafina all her life. They’ve been running from Sarafina’s mother Esmeralda, who Sarafina claimed was an evil person who pretended magic was real. Now, however, Sarafina has been institutionalized, and Reason has to go live with her grandmother. She soon discovers that magic is real when she opens a door to New York City. She meets two other teens, Tom and Jay-Tee. Separately and together they must determine whether the adults in their life are trying to help them, or help themselves. The writing is strong, the characters are likeable, but the biggest strength of this novel lies in its ambiguity. There are no absolute answers given, so the reader is left to draw her own conclusions, along with Reason. This book clearly paves the way for a sequel, which I look forward to.

G. Grod and I live far from our families, so we don’t have the luxury of dropping Drake off at a relative’s house. Luckily, we’ve made good friends in the year we’ve lived in our new house, one of whom offered to swap childcare with us once a month. For politeness’s sake I said I had to check with G. Grod, but he agreed as readily as me.

We considered dinner and a movie, but the movie times were tight, and we wanted to take our time over dinner. Then we had to decide where to go. I assembled a list of six different restaurants, then emailed my favorite local food critic for her opinion, since she has been invaluably helpful in the past. Alas for us and good for her, she was out of town on her honeymoon, so we were on our own. We narrowed our choices down to two restaurants. One, Restaurant Alma, we had not been to in a long time, but is not far and very nice. It’s expensive, but that’s based on the high quality of its mostly local, organic ingredients. The other option was a French restaurant that had just opened the previous Monday. It also was expensive, and its menu sounded exquisite. Eventually we decided on the restaurant we’d been to before. We have too little time and money to act like we’re on the cutting edge of fine dining. Let others with more resources test out the new place, and let the staff and kitchen work out the kinks in the first couple weeks. We’ll go if we get the confirmation of a good review.

G. Grod and I both had a three-course, prix-fixe menu. I started with fresh buffalo mozzarella slices layered between slabs of roasted squash and garnished with dabs of herbed olive oil. G. had a beef terrine with spicy mustard. Next, I had orzo and lobster in a white wine and butter sauce. The orzo was done perfectly, tender and each grain separate, with the lightly sauced lobster chunks as a complement. G. had orecchiette pasta with spicy sausage and fall greens. For our entrees, I chose the pan seared Kobe beef garnished sparingly with black truffle hollandaise, and roasted celery root and carrots. G. had the sauteed scallops in a red wine rosemary sauce. We hemmed a little over whether to get dessert at all, or whether to share, but eventually could not agree on one, so got one apiece. G. got the chocolate tasting plate, with a dark chocolate terrine, rum chocolate cashew truffle, chocolate sea salt cookie, and caramel ice cream. While it sounded delicious, I felt I needed something a little less heavy, so I had the buttermilk panna cotta with dried cherries, which was sweet and light and tangy and bright. It was a lovely finish to a lovely meal. Each dish of each course was small and perfectly executed. The sauces and garnishes always allowed the high quality of the main ingredient to shine. The timing was steady, but neither rushed nor too slow. The service was attentive but not intrusive, and my water glass never ran dry.

We returned home just after Drake had gone to bed, so we visited with our friends and their daughter, then watched our movie. It was a lovely meal, and a lovely night, made all the more lovely for the kindness of friends who enabled it, as well as its rarity, which allowed us to savor it.