Dear kind readers, the comment feature is not working. Ironically, this coincides with G. Grod’s return to the rat race, so it may not be till tonight that they get fixed. Many apologies for the inconvenience, and I promise, we will work to get your comments through as quickly as possible!
More from my 50 movie challenge for 2005. My friend Becca wondered if I pick out what I watch/read in advance. Nope. I make it up as I go along. Becca lent me movie #s 18 and 20, which were good antidotes to #17.
16. Second Sight 2: Hide and Seek. 2003. Eh.
17. About Schmidt. 2002. Directed by Alexander Payne. Overly long. Unpleasant. Not that funny. I much preferred Sideways.
18. The Big Lebowski. 1998. Directed by Joel Coen. Very funny. The Dude is an amiable, like-able loser, unlike Schmidt. Favorite quotes: “It really tied the room together” and “Nice marmot.”
19. The Interpreter. 2005. Directed by Sydney Pollack. Sean Penn is stunning. A good, solid thriller. They were wishy washy about the romantic tension and should have left it out entirely.
20. Army of Darkness. 1993. Directed by Sam Raimi. I liked this much better than I remember liking it when I watched it before. Is it the director’s cut? Is it that I didn’t watch Evil Dead 1 & 2 right before it? In any case, good, silly, B-movie fun.
21. Laurel Canyon. 2003. Directed by Lisa Cholodenko. Not a good movie, but a great performance by Frances McDormand. How do you know that Kate Beckinsale has fake tits? Her bra never comes off. Not during sex with her boyfriend, not in the pool or in bed for a three way. McDormand is a good actress, and her beauty is real, interesting and complex. Beckinsale looks and acts like a Barbie doll.
22. The Iron Giant. 1999. Directed by Brad Bird. I love this film. Great story, great 1950’s look, great voice casting.
I found links to Kiernan Ryan’s Guardian article on Shakespeare both at Mental Multivitamin and at Arts & Letters Daily. I like that Ryan challenges the common theory for Shakespeare’s continued popularity.
The popular consensus is that his drama has defied obsolescence and triumphed in translation all over the globe because it expresses the timeless truths of the universal human condition. It’s a view that has secured powerful advocates, from Samuel Johnson in the 18th century to Harold Bloom in the 21st. But it’s a view whose platitudinous piety I’ve never found credible, not least because it’s been used so often to buttress the status quo.
Ryan’s conclusion, though, proved less compelling to me than the one he purported to denounce.
Shakespeare’s drama still thrills us because it allows us to see his world from the standpoint of a world that men and women are still struggling to create. Shakespeare’s gift to our time is an extraordinary one: the power to view the past that shaped the present as if we were already citizens of centuries to come.
I came to Shakespeare via Kenneth Branagh’s film adaptation of Henry V. “I can understand this,” I thought exultantly, as I sat in the theater and waited to find out who won the battle, my enjoyment of the movie made more powerful by my spotty knowledge of history. Since then, I have read several of the plays, seen them performed on film or in the theater and read other books and seen other films that are homages to Shakespeare’s works. I enjoy Shakespeare, and I don’t think it has to do with the universality of the stories, or with what Ryan said.
For me, it’s the language. My brain has to work just a bit harder to process it. Once I have done, I feel I’ve had the mental equivalent of a good workout and a hearty meal. The language draws me in, then the stories keep me engaged.
Recently, a movie meme made the rounds. I ignored it because I am terrible at quoting movies. My ease at coming up with Shakespeare quotes, though, supports my theory on why I like Shakespeare.
Why do you like Shakespeare? The language, the stories, a combination? I propose a Shakespeare variation on the movie meme. If it goes ’round, perhaps I’ll see if I’m the only one who disagrees with Ryan. If you have a blog, post a link to your entry in the comments. If you don’t have a blog, answer in the comments.
1. Name the first five lines of Shakespeare that come into your head. (Don’t cheat–write the first five that you think of, then check for accuracy later.)
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers
The quality of mercy is not strained
All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players
Lead on, MacDuff (Oops, it’s actually Lay On, MacDuff)
To thine own self be true
2. The last Shakespeare play you went to see on stage.
Antony and Cleopatra
3. The last Shakespeare film homage or adaptation you watched at home or at the movies.
Titus (at home)
4. What Shakespeare homage/adaptation/plays are on your to be read/to be seen list?
Looking for Richard on Tivo
Richard II on DVD
Hamlet (read the play and watch the Branagh DVD, once I finish Don Quixote)
Gertrude and Claudius, by John Updike
5. Name a favorite Shakespeare-inspired work.
Issue #75 of Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman. It was a strong ending to a strong series. Good endings are hard to do. Gaiman pulled it off brilliantly. Close second, The Daughter of Time by Josephine Tey.
6. Why do you think Shakespeare’s plays are still popular?
My toddler Drake likes to hear the same books over and over. My husband G. Grod and I have “disappeared” a few of Drake’s more tedious choices. Fortunately, most of Drake’s favorite books have passages I enjoy with each reading.
From Winnie the Pooh by A.A. Milne.
Then, suddenly, [Pooh] was dreaming. He was at the East Pole, and it was a very cold pole with the coldest sort of snow and ice all over it. He had found a beehive to sleep in, but there wasn’t room for his legs, so he had left them outside. And Wild Woozles, such as inhabit the East Pole, came and nibbled all the fur off his legs to make nests for their Young. And the more they nibbled, the colder his legs got, until suddenly he woke up with an Ow!–and there he was, sitting in his chair with his feet in the water and water all round him!
From Best Friends for Frances by Russell Hoban.
When Frances got to Albert’s house, he was just coming out, and he was carrying a large, heavy-looking brown paper bag.
“Let’s play baseball,” said Frances.
“I can’t,” said Albert. “Today is my wandering day.”
“Where do you wander?” said Frances.
“I don’t know,” said Albert. “I just go around until I get hungry and then I eat my lunch.”
“That looks like a big lunch,” said Frances.
“It’s nothing much,” said Albert. “Four or five sandwiches and some apples and bananas and two packages of cupcakes and a quart of chocolate milk.”
“Can I wander with you?” asked Frances.
“I only have one lunch,” said Albert…”I think I better go by myself. The things I do on my wandering days aren’t things you can do.”
“Like what?” said Frances.
“Catching snakes,” said Albert. “Throwing stones at telephone poles. A little frog work maybe. Walking on fences. Whistling with grass blades. Looking for crow feathers.”
From Olivia Saves the Circus by Ian Falconer.
“Was that true?” Olivia’s teacher asks.
“Pretty true,” says Olivia.
“All true?”
“Pretty all true.”
“Are you sure, Olivia?”
“To the best of my recollection.”
My husband G. Grod suggested that I may be trying to do too much, i.e., read 50ish pages of Don Quixote every day, read another book, write this blog, read other blogs, go to yoga class a few times a week, work on my novel, read excerpts of other people’s novels for my writing group. And, oh yeah, take care of my small child. Unsurprisingly, I’m dropping some balls here and there. Last week, the blog ball got dropped. I apologize for the lack of notice for a post-free week.
I took a break from the weblog to focus on other writing. As has happened before, all my writing slowed. Progress on manuscript #1 was painfully slow. I dug out manuscript #2 to change things up. Things didn’t improve, so I’m back to the blog in the hope it will kick my writing and editing back into high gear.
While my son Drake napped today, I took to bed, and snuggled up with a short story and a chunk of Don Quixote. Sometimes Drake can sleep through cacophony; other times he wakes at an inopportune creak of the floorboards. To increase my chances of a long nap, I try to do just one thing. Today it was reading, and lots of it.
What is your definition of luxury?
Saving Francesca by Melina Marchetta. I found this book on a blog dedicated not only to YA literature, but to portrayals of sexuality that are real, balanced, and specifically about girls and women who are responsible for their own sexual actions. While I commend that ideal, I’m not loving the book recommendations on the blog. Saving Francesca had good elements, but overall I can’t recommend it unreservedly. It is a teen problem novel, in that the main character starts off the school year with a problem–her mother is depressed and won’t get out of bed–and then solves the problem in the course of a school year. Parts of this book are funny, well-written, and true to life. It contains some great supporting characters. But the problem feels contrived; no one even asks if the mother has seen a doctor for the depression until halfway through the book. Also, Marchetta has an aggravating tendency to over-write. Countless paragraphs that ended a scene had ending sentences that lessened the impact of whatever decent writing came before it.
And being that happy makes me feel guilty. Because I shouldn’t be. Not while my mum is feeling the way she is. How I can dare to be happy is beyond me, and I hate my guts for it.
I hate myself so much that it makes my head spin.
Finally, I thought the issue of sex was largely avoided. The main character talks about it, but only kisses the boy she has a crush on. One of her friends may be having problems, but it isn’t discussed. The parents’ sex life is discussed, which I applaud, but the teens themselves are suspiciously abstinent.
Most happy and fortunate were the days when the bold knight Don Quixote of La Mancha sallied forth into the world, since, because of his honorable resolve to resuscitate and return to the world the lost and dying order of knight errantry, we can now enjoy in our own time, which is so in need of joyful entertainment, not only the sweetness of his true history, but also the stories and episodes that appear in it and are, in some ways, no less agreeable and artful and true than the history itself… (p. 227)
I am reading Don Quixote. Charmed by the editor’s preface and undaunted by the needlessly pendantic introduction by Harold Bloom, I read a little bit each day. I am about a quarter of the way through. Don Quixote is easier for me to read early in the day. Like Shakespeare’s, the prose requires a bit more attention than that of modern authors, but just a bit. Grossman’s translation is quite accessible.
My mind works by analogy. Also, I am rather obsessed with food. I was pleased to see that the featured cheese for May of the Twin Cities food co-ops is Manchego.
Originally made from the milk of sheep on the plains of La Mancha, it is a rich, golden, semi-firm cheese with a full, mellow flavor. It is excellent as a table cheese and melts well.
Try it:
*Melted on an open-faced sandwich of rare beef, a slice of hearty, toasted sourdough bread, au jus and a little garlic aioli.
*Serve with smoky Idiazabol, Cabrales, Mahon, fresh figs and Marcona almonds as a Spanish party tray.
*Wrap small chunks of Manchego with thinly sliced prosciutto or serrano ham as an appetizer.
–from Mix, a Twin Cities Natural Good Co-ops Publication (www.mwnaturalfoods.coop)
Most of these items are available at Twin Cities Co-ops. If you don’t feel up to making them yourself, Twin Citians can also visit Solera in downtown Minneapolis, for a stunning selection of lovely, delicious tapas.
We moved last September to a new neighborhood, where I hoped to find new friends and community. The winter was lonely, though. As the months wore on, I wondered if we should have moved closer to our families instead.
Spring has wrought many changes. People, like all living creatures, wait for more temperate weather to show themselves. It is easier to make new friends and keep up with old ones. Like an outdoor plant raised inside, our family in winter did OK, but didn’t thrive or spread. Once exposed to fresh air and sunshine, we realized our potential to put down roots and grow.
A few years ago, I periodically felt like I couldn’t adequately fill my lungs with air. I had allergy tests and pulmonary function tests, all of which came back normal. On the recommendation of a co-worker, I went to see a holistic chiropractor. After a series of tests, he told me to stop eating wheat. I took the advice a step further and stopped eating gluten. This meant no pizza, pasta or cereal. It also meant learning what things contain hidden gluten, like soy sauce, which is brewed with wheat.
After several weeks on the new diet, I felt much better. My breathing troubles were gone. Additionally, so were the severe abdominal cramps I’d been having on such a regular basis that I’d come to accept them as part of the natural digestive process. I was eating more fruits and veggies to compensate for the lack of wheat products, so I was eating more mindfully and healthfully. As a result, I lost weight, though I didn’t restrict my diet beyond eliminating gluten. Eating out was more difficult, but I learned both to read menus and to work with servers. In general, gluten-free items were not as good as those made with wheat, but I found a very good mail-order bakery whose muffins, biscotti, and brownies disproved this. (Gluten-free bread, though, was always a compromise.) Every so often I would eat something with gluten in it when the temptation became too much. I told myself that occasional consumption might not be good for me physically, but it would stave off feelings of bitter deprivation and self-pity. Each time I indulged, I felt ill the next day. Never so ill that I couldn’t function, but nonetheless bad enough that I would return to my restricted diet.
I did not get the medical test to determine if I had gluten intolerance for two reasons. One, it involved resuming gluten intake fully until the test. Two, the test, if positive, is followed by an intestinal biopsy. I did not welcome the idea of getting a piece of my intestine cut out.
A few months ago, though, I had digestive troubles while traveling, even though I adhered to my gluten-free diet. Perhaps it was time, I thought, to seek out the medical diagnosis. Confirming it would mean that I could embrace my restricted diet without the little voice of doubt in the back of my head. If it wasn’t confirmed, then I could go back to eating gluten, and wouldn’t that be swell?
My first days back on gluten were mixed. I was thrilled to be eating things that I had avoided for three years, but not feeling well as a result. I had to consume gluten for two weeks for the test to be effective, though, so I had to persevere. I could hardly wait to try all the things I’d denied myself for so long–pizza, pasta, bread, donuts, cupcakes, and more. What I began to suspect, though, was that my feeling unwell could be caused, or at least complicated by, overindulgence in sugary carbs. As the novelty of eating gluten again wore off, my diet became less sugarful, and I gradually felt better. Perhaps, as my husband G. Grod had long surmised, my body needed more than one or two times of gluten for it to become re-accustomed to digesting it. I went in for the test, and several weeks later got the result, which was negative. There was no indication that I should have a biopsy.
This is good news, but I have mixed feelings. I appreciate not having to restrict my diet, which is hard not only on me but also on those around me. But I continue to have a hard time eating as consciously and healthfully as I did when I was gluten free, and I’ve gained some weight very quickly with the change. I also am plagued by the worry that I followed a gluten-free diet for three years when I didn’t need to. Yet my breathing problems vanished and have not re-appeared with the resumption of gluten, plus I learned how to eat and manage my weight better. Overall, I am very fortunate to have my previous diagnosis overturned. I just need to learn how to find balance again in my diet.
Here is a list of good gluten-free resources and foodstuffs that I found, both through trial and error and through recommendation.
Tinkyada rice pasta
Glutano Ritz-style crackers
Gluten Solutions market
Celiac.com
Living Without magazine
Ener-G or Glutino pretzels
Kinnikinnick pizza crusts and donuts
The Silly Yak bakery
Based on a recommendation in Lucky magazine, I sought out Neutrogena Clean Lash Tint mascara. I almost missed it sitting on an endcap, in what looked to be a temporary, seasonal display. I’m glad I didn’t, though, because this is a great product. It is a lash darkener only, so there are no clumps and bumps. It has a good brush, a long handle, and goes on in one coat for a look that is extremely natural. This is that rare makeup product that enhances without making me look made up. I will be writing Neutrogena to request that they make this a part of their regular product line.
Tender at the Bone by Ruth Reichl was Book 22 in my 50 book challenge for 2005. I’ve had this sitting on my TBR pile for years, having picked it up along with her second memoir, Comfort Me with Apples, which is a quote from the bible’s “Song of Solomon.” Reichl’s third memoir, Garlic and Sapphires, was just released, reminding me that the first two memoirs languished on my shelves. Reichl is a strong writer, and intersperses her personal history of her relationship with food with recipes that relate to the tale. Like her writing, the recipes are clear and inviting. In the end, though, I felt something was lacking. I consciously admired the book, but it did not move me to affection. Must all memoirists have crazy mothers, I wondered as I read, in this case a manic-depressive whom Reichl dubbed “The Queen of Mold” for her tendency to use outdated food. Reichl found what humor she could in their relationship over the years, but eventually it becomes too painful, and the quick redemption she finds at the end seems like a small bandage on a gaping wound. Another reason for my perceived lack of closure might be the two other memoirs that carry on the narrative. I’ll read Comfort Me with Apples, certainly, since I already own it, and use that as the litmus to decide whether to read Garlic and Sapphires. My hope is that the reading of Reichl’s second memoir will stand on its own, as well as retroactively enhance my reading of the first.
The lack of sleep that started during my pregnancy and continued after our son Drake was born wreaked havoc on my previously formidable vocabulary. I’ll often find myself in conversation, slack-jawed as I frantically scour the corners of my mind for a word. Even before pregnancy and motherhood, the idea of games as a way to sharpen my mental faculties appealed to me. I’m not sure why this is. I often don’t enjoy games, and am not very good at them. I am easily distracted and frustrated, more so when I am fatigued. I have a habit of doing things on impulse just to complete my turn. This usually precludes strategy, and was not at all useful to me or endearing to a partner when I used to play bridge (the rules of which I have completely forgotten.)
I’ve been wanting to pick up crossword puzzles again, since they don’t involve strategy, but we no longer subscribe to the newspaper. Book collections are woefully out of date (I found a 1977 NYT book on my last visit to the bookstore.) The NYT has an online subscription to the crossword puzzles, but it’s not compatible with our Linux OS and free software applications, so I’m out of luck there, too. For the moment, then, I’ve given up on crosswords.
I’ve tried to learn chess several times, but have have never yet persevered with it. Chess is not a game that favors the beginner. Each attempt left me feeling clumsy and inept. I’d set chess aside in frustration for just enough time to forget the rules, then try again with the same results.
One of my grandmothers was a lifelong Scrabble fiend until her death, which was due to complications from Alzheimer’s. At her memorial service, one of my uncles laughed ruefully and said that during his last visit, her attention came and went but she was still able to beat him at Scrabble. I will always associate Scrabble with the laughter, love, and sadness of his story.
Until this month, though, I had never played Scrabble. I finally got the opportunity earlier this month when I visited my sister Sydney, an avid fan of the game. I am unsurprised that there is a cult following. Its combination of luck, knowledge and strategy felt very manageable, and its rules aren’t complex enough to forget. My husband G. Grod and I picked up an inexpensive travel set. We can play a little, fold it up, and begin again later without mess or fuss. This new hobby has me eyeing my dictionary and Chicago Manual of Style. As I perused the former, I noted that the Hebrew and Greek alphabet letters are considered words (I don’t know if they are in the offical Scrabble dictionary, but the new one isn’t coming out till June 1, so I’m not buying one till then.) I learned the Hebrew alphabet years ago, when I was considering a conversion to Judaism, but all that remains are Aleph, Bet, Hay and Gimmel, the dreidel letters.
If G. Grod and I are in the middle of a game, is it cheating to look up the Greek and Hebrew alphabets online? I’ll print them out for both of us to review. Two wrongs might not make a right, but they are easier to rationalize.
What were you thinking, asked people when I exclaimed over how huge the Sistine Chapel was.
“A little room, 20 feet square maybe, with a six foot ceiling. You know, a ceiling that you can actually imagine someone painting.”
How big did you think he was going to be, asked people when I stared up and up at David’s statue in the Accademia in Florence.
“Seven feet, tops. Bigger than life, sure, but not more than double!”
As I mentioned in my oil-change story, there are a lot of things that I simply don’t know until I experience them myself.
I was reminded of these gaffes when I went to the library yesterday. Over the past several months, references to Don Quixote have been accumulating in my mind, making me ever more aware of this gap in my cultural literacy. Terry Gilliam made “Lost in La Mancha,” a documentary that detailed his failed attempt to make Don Quixote into a movie. A new translation of Don Quixote was published to much acclaim, and a weblog was created in response. My friend Duff recommended The True and Outstanding Adventures of the Hunt Sisters in spite of its cover; it features a fictional attempt to commit Don Quixote to film.
It’s time, I thought. I reserved it from the library, and was bursting with excitement when I went to pick it up. Then I literally picked up the Neal Stephenson”•sized* volume. I had NO IDEA that Don Quixote was such a long book. My enthusiasm evaporated.
Until I read the translator’s note, that is.
The extraordinary significance and influence of this novel were reaffirmed, once again, in 2002, when one hundred major writers from fifty-four countries voted Don Quixote the best work of fiction in the world….
And his writing is a marvel: it gives off sparks and flows like honey. Cervantes’s sytle is so artful it seems absolutely natural and inevitable; his irony is sweet-natured, his sensibility sophisticated, compassionate, and humorous. If my translation works at all, the reader should keep turning the pages, smiling a good deal, periodically bursting into laughter, and impatiently waiting for the next synonym (Cervantes delighted in accumulating synonyms, especially descriptive ones, within the same phrase), the next mind-bending coincidence, the next variation on the structure of Don Quixote’s adventures, the next incomparable conversation between the knight and his squire.
My enthusiasm returned, more cautiously this time. Maybe, I thought, just maybe I can read Don Quixote. I can give up my “one book at a time” rule while I do, so it isn’t the only thing I’m reading. And if I read 50 pages a day, I can finish in three weeks.
Am I brave or foolhardy to take on this tome? Will I fail? Readers, I will let you know.
Works mentioned here:
*Copyeditor’s note. To be precise, I am using an en dash in an adjectival phrase consisting of an open compound (here, a proper name) to another word. The Chicago Manual of Style only mentions this use with prefixes, though. As the CMS notes, this is a bit fussy, but I’ve spent so much time looking it up that I’ve included it.
Economist Steven Levitt discovered a connection between legalized abortion and a reduced crime rate. He writes about this and more in his new book Freakonomics, link from Arts and Letters Daily, a collection of links from The Chronicle of Higher Education, recommended by my friend Blogenheimer.
Freakonomics is not published yet, but the queue for the first copy from our library was already fifteen by the time I put in a request. I’m not sure my math-geek husband G. Grod is going to be able to wait that long. He just finished Everything and More: A Compact History of Infinity by David Foster Wallace, and is in the midst of Incompleteness: The Proof and Paradox of Kurt Godel by Rebecca Goldstein, whose first novel was The Mind-Body Problem, a book I very much enjoyed. It centers on a philosophy student who marries a math prodigy, as Goldstein did herself.
Yesterday I wrote on a salad I’d made with arugula, shallot dressing, strawberries, toasted almonds and honeyed goat cheese. (My spidey sense said that hazelnuts would have been better than almonds, but the latter were what I had on hand.) Balance of flavor, texture, and amount of dressing is key to a successful salad. I worked with a woman who shared her favorite combination one day as we waited in line at the salad bar: spinach, grape tomatoes, buffalo mozzarella, asparagus, kalamata olives, garlic croutons, and shaved parmesan in a Caesar dressing. Here are a few more combinations I recommend.
Granny Smith apples, gouda cheese, and almonds
Fuji or Braeburn apples, Roquefort or goat cheese and walnuts
D’anjou pears, Roquefort cheese and pecans
Pomegranate seeds, Roquefort cheese (no nuts necessary; the seeds have crunch)
Mandarin orange segments, slivered almonds and raspberry dressing over butter lettuce (no cheese with mandarin oranges)
Segmented oranges, buffalo mozzarella, almonds and balsamic dressing over spinach
Peaches or nectarines, pea-sized dabs of mascarpone, pecans or almonds
Roquefort is my favorite blue to use. I pop it in the freezer while I assemble the other ingredients, then use the vegetable peeler to shave thin slices over each salad.
One of the most common ways to ruin a good salad is to overdress it. It is best to dress the salad just before serving, pouring on a little at a time, then fluffing or tossing with your hands for the best distribution. Add more in small amounts only as necessary. Most of the items I mentioned–fruit, cheese and nuts–should be added to indidual servings once the greens are dressed.
There’s a new episode of Veronica Mars on tonight, Tuesday April 19 at 9 p.m. Eastern/8 p.m. Central. Last week’s episode had a kiss between Veronica and Logan. What will come of it? Watch tonight; maybe we’ll find out.
And the vegetables, they are plentiful. I exclaimed aloud twice in the produce section while grocery shopping on Saturday. First in dismay at the astronomical price of organic asparagus. ($7.49 a pound! I went on to buy frozen.) Then in surprise and delight when I saw something I hadn’t come across in months, fresh arugula. (Only $1.99–take that, organic asparagus!) I went on to fill my basket with all sorts of lovely fruits and vegetables, and I breathed a sigh of happiness that spring is finally here, even in the produce aisle.
It took me a long time to come around to the peppery, distinctive flavor of arugula. Now it is one of my favorite greens, and a staple in one of our favorite easy recipes, grilled flank steak with shaved parmesan served over arugula salad with a lemon-y dressing.
Joy of joys, though, we had leftover arugula, which I was able to incorporate into a salad the following night. I made a shallot dressing and topped the greens with sliced fresh strawberries, toasted almonds and Capra goat cheese with honey. It has taken me some years of experimenting with salads to acquire a sense for them, since the potential ingredients of lettuce, dressing, fruit, cheese, nuts, etc. can clash so wildly. This combination, though, was a success.
Friday afternoon, and concentration is hard to come by. I know that a list seems like the LCD (lowest common denomiator) of blog entries, but I wouldn’t post on reading and watching lists if I didn’t think they had merit. When I read weblogs over time, I am able to determine similarities in media likes and dislikes. I pay attention to those people whose tastes run similarly to mine, especially those people who have more time and money than do I to more thoroughly explore what’s out there. I also have (mostly) stopped making to-do lists of books and movies, and instead rely upon an accumulation of recommendations to make something stand out in my memory unaided.
Is anyone out there besides me doing a 50 book or 50 movie challenge for a year, or am I talking to myself? I know that for many of you, 50 isn’t much. For me, though, as my son Drake approaches his second birthday, it’s meant reclaiming and re-integrating into my life things I love, like books and movies. I hope that I’ll trounce both goals handily, but even if I squeak in close, it will be a vast improvement over last year.
19. What You Wear Can Change Your Life by Trinny Woodall and Susannah Constantine. I’m a fan of both the BBC and TLC versions of this show. This is an easy, breezy book that nonetheless contains a lot of practical advice on beauty and fashion. Woodall and Constantine are the sometimes fearless models of what not to wear, though they are vindicated in the more flattering “do” shots as well. It includes photos of them pregnant, and post-baby with soft tummies. I was reminded that looking after one’s appearance is a supreme form of self-validation. Letting things go on the outside usually means that one’s esteem is low on the inside. With canny advice like theirs, dressing and looking well can be a rewarding challenge. I noticed a few oopsies in the book, like the repeated misspelling of the word “fuchsia,” and one photo that was used to illustrate both do and don’t for blush. An additional quibble I have is that the book limits its fashion advice to the particular foibles of Woodall and Constantine. Together they do have most of the common body complaints that women try to dress around, yet Woodall’s physique is far from common. She has short legs and a cushy bum, but she’s 5′10″, so while a dress over pants looks well on her, those of us of average height can’t carry it off.
20. Lying Awake by Mark Salzman. An absolute gem of a book, whose story is made more beautiful still by the addition of several woodcut illustrations. A cloistered nun takes strength and inspiration from her spiritual visions. When she learns what might be causing them, she must wrestle with whether to give them up. Spare, moving and lovely.
21. Carnet de Voyage by Craig Thompson. This is a travel journal of Thompson’s three-month trek through Europe. The drawings are compelling, and Thompson is a self-aware and modest narrator, apologizing more than once for the slight nature of the work. It cannot compare to the strength and power of his two previous graphic novels, but it’s not meant to. This is an enjoyable and beautiful travel memoir, but if you haven’t read either of his previous novels, I urge you to seek out Goodbye, Chunky Rice and Blankets.
I’m a sucker for a good marketing campaign. When Gillette introduced the Sensor for men in 1990, I bought both the product and the marketing. Its two blades were spring mounted for extra manueuverability, and the handle had sticky grips for better traction in the shower. In 1992, Gillette introduced the Sensor for Women, and I happily plunked down the additional cash. The Sensor for women featured a unique, wide ovoid handle that was easy to use. In 1993, I began to get suspicious, as the Sensor Excel for men was introduced; 5 microfins were added to the two blades for a closer shave. Was Gillette mastering planned obsolescence, introducing a new variation on the product every few years, offering the men’s first because women would buy it too? They gave credence to my theory when they rolled out the Sensor Excel for women in 1996, then the Mach 3 for men in 1998 followed by the 3-bladed Venus for women in 2001. Since then they have added the Mach 3 Turbo, and the M3Power for men, and the Venus Divine for women.
With each introduction, the features, not just of the blade but of the handle, are enhanced. Gillette has been careful that more than the appearance of the handle is changing. Yes, their marketing still trumpets silly-sounding features like “single-point docking,” but the blades, their mounting, and the handles have been evolving continuously. Gillette has also been careful in their intervals. By waiting a few years, rather than a few months, they ensure a long period in which people can adopt their product, rather than waiting a few months to see if the next one will come out, like the special editions of some DVDs.
As each razor was introduced, I became a more reluctant consumer, wondering if the additional blades and features really were resulting in a closer shave. The costs mounted with the new models; the Venus refills cost almost $2 apiece! I did not purchase any Mach 3 or Venus variations. After I used my last Venus refill, I put my skepticism to the test. When warm weather finally came to my upper midwest state, I looked for the simplest, cheapest disposable there was, and found that I could get 14 (!) Bic Silky Touch disposables for about $2–a little more than the cost of one Venus refill. The Silky Touch had 2 blades, a non-pivoting head, no lubricating strip and a colorful plastic handle. These’ll be fine, I thought, angry at having been duped by Gillette for so many years.
My next shave was not a pleasant one. I had to use a lot of shaving cream, the razor kept slipping out of my hand, and I got both cuts and burns. It turns out that some of those Gillette features are useful and contribute to a better shave.
What to do now, then? Keep trying inexpensive disposables? Buy a new set of Venus refills? Pick up the newest offering on the market from Gillette arch-rival Schick, the Quattro for women, with four blades? (Gillette attempted to sue Schick over patent infringement when the Quattro debuted. They were denied.) Before I started writing this entry, I thought the Quattro was the newest offering from Gillette, probably annoyed because Schick interrupted their product introduction interval by offering the Quattro before whatever will be the Gillette men’s 4.0, which is sure to be followed in 2 to 3 years by the women’s.
I am certain that there is some balance in razor-land between super-expensive four-blade-plus-the-kitchen-sink refillables and super-cheap, two-blade disposables. I’ll let you know when I find it.