Girl Detective

#47 in my 50 book challenge for the year. This graphic novel picks up where Persepolis left off, with the teenaged Marji sent to Europe to escape war-torn Iran. Abroad she finds a universal truth–at home she felt repressed, but abroad she feels alienated, so neither can give her comfort. My favorite section was the visit from her mother, and the affection conveyed between them. Satrapi returns to Iran to find it both changed and the same. The simple art evokes the story and emotions well. Like Persepolis before it, I found it easy to engage with the story of a woman whose life is very different from mine, and think this is both an excellent story as well as good insight into a different culture.

#46 in my 50 book challenge for the year. Though not labelled as such, this is a novel in stories. We meet Sophie Applebaum with her family at her cousin’s bat mitzvah, and re-visit them periodically through the next two decades of life changes. The book could be read simplistically, and wrongly, as Sophie’s quest to find a man. Instead, I found Bank created a tapestried life for Sophie that also included her evolution in self-awareness, jobs, friendships and family relations. Bank’s writing is deceptive. Her style is spare yet razor sharp. She is able to convey characters and nuances in relationships with very few words. Her characters are recognizable without being cliches. I loved the charming but unreliable crush in “Teen Romance” and the should-be-right-but-isn’t guy of “The One After You.” The book is both funny and sad. It ends with Sophie getting the best of an old boyfriend at a party in Brooklyn as she leaves with a new one, and in a job that she isn’t embarrassed to admit. It wasn’t so much a happily-ever-after ending, as much as the highest, happiest point she had yet reached, one that she might yet go beyond.

On our second cigarette break, he offered me his jacket, and I took it without a word. He said, “So, what line of work are you in, Applebaum?”

When I told him I wrote advertising copy, he asked if he’d seen any of my ads.

“Live live live girls girls girls?” I said. “That’s mine.”

He seemed to know that I’d made this joke before; he went right by it. (P. 214)

Drake has been off his feed for the past couple weeks, and he’s never been a very portly toddler. So lately when he looks up at me with those huge, hazel eyes, and says, “Buh, mom?” I silence my conscience and cut off a little sliver of butter and hand it to him. He gobbles it down.

There are worse things.

Right?

I am very much enjoying Frito Lay’s Natural Doritos and Lay’s potato chips. I know that Doritos and Natural seem like an oxymoron. Perhaps they are, but I have a hard time closing the bag.

As for the Lay’s, I showed it to Drake and said, “Look, it’s the yellow bag of happiness.” I didn’t plan on saying that. It just popped out.

I think I might have a snack food problem.

Yet another great graphic novel collaboration for Brian Bendis and Alex Maleev. Strong story, strong art, and book #45 in my 50 book challenge for the year. This story jumps between three main points in time. Each part of the story is drawn in a different style, suited to the comics history of the time. The flashbacks are seamless, and both story and art lend to good characterization. We are also introduced to a new superhero. This could be a standalone graphic novel, but I recommend you go back and start with Volume 4: Underboss, and keep reading. Daredevil is a great character, and this team has put together a series of really good books.

A friend of mine, complaining about the general crappiness of most comics, wondered, “Why can’t Grant Morrison write all the comics?”

Well, because some of them have to be non-ultra-violent, and more than token-ish-ly redemptive.

Which is somewhat unfair, because WE3 is a very good graphic novel, and was book 44 in my 50 book challenge for the year. I just wish I’d been warned about how extremely violent it was–ahem, G. Grod, Blogenheimer–and that said violence involved animals. Morrison’s story is, as usual, dark, violent, clever and insightful. Quitely’s art is, as usual, exquisitely detailed. The story concerns a dog, cat and rabbit who have been conscripted by the US military and upgraded with robotics for killing purposes. Then they get loose, and it’s rather like Homeward Bound meets the Terminator, or any of a jillion other comparisons–this one probably isn’t original, but I’m sure you get the idea. This is a sad, sad story that even the ending can’t redeem completely. If you have a soft heart for small creatures, you might want to skip this. It’s quite wrenching.

We all know that each child differs from the next and that their academic needs are best met when we take these differences seriously. We also know that schools have enormous difficulties in this regard and are openly desperate to do better. Two pillars of the current education debate–tracking of students and class size–are intimately connected to this larger question of individualizing education. Yet the novel approaches and creative solutions thus far conjured by educators have not altered the primary design flaw of schools: They are mass institutions and thus by definition ill suited to the academic needs of individuals.

Homeschooling parents have a distinct advantage over public-school teachers when it comes to individualizing education. (P. 20)

Family Matters: Why Homeschooling Makes Sense by David Guterson, was book #43 in my 50 book challenge for the year. I’ve already received some flak because I’m considering home school for my child. (I’m considering public school as well, but no one gives me sh!t about that, do they?) But Guterson, a high school teacher who is also the father of three home-schooled children, makes a compelling case for it. Beyond the point I quote above, which I think is a very strong one, he also continuously emphasizes that parents should be actively involved in their children’s education, whether it is in a school or at home.

A reminder that the FX series Rescue Me has just begun its second season. The first episode, “Voice Mail” aired on Tuesday, but will be re-run several times. Rescue Me stars Denis Leary as Tommy Gavin, a drunk, foul-mouthed fireman who has been psychologically crumbling ever since he lost his cousin and best friend on 9/11. Much of it is set in the firehouse, and the sexism and the rampant testosterone are jaw-dropping, entertaining, and scarily believable. Leary’s hair always looks a little too yellow, a little too long and like it’s got a little too much product in it. In spite of the odd hair, it’s a good show. Dark, but not without redemption. The writing is fast and sharp, and I find it exhilarating to see a show built around such a deeply flawed character. And I don’t mind watching Daniel Sunjata, who plays a fireman named Franco, once a week, either.

The weather here is hot, humid and miserable. I haven’t even yet bothered to venture outside today. Yes, the sun is shining, but it will still be shining after 5 p.m., and I hope it will be slightly cooler. It seems a shame to keep Drake and me cooped up inside, but I find extremes of hot are just as bad as extremes of cold. Yes, one needs less clothing but there’s still hats and sunscreens, so it’s just cover-up of a different type.

I am reminded, though, that the season brings new beauty needs. No longer do I need a rich body lotion. Instead, I use Neutrogena’s body oil, which has a faint, very pleasant sesame scent, and a light, non-greasy texture. To wash off the sunscreen at the end of the day, I take a tepid shower and use Dove’s Cool Moisture body wash. It has a cooling texture and light scent. (I’m also loving the new print ads for Dove’s Campaign for Real Beauty.) Finally, to un-toughen winter feet, there are two department-store creams that do a great job, Philosophy Soul Owner and Fresh Rice Foot Cream. The Foot File takes care of rough skin on heels in a jif.

Writing has never been the strong point of the Jeph Loeb and Tim Sale collaborations. Loeb’s story is usually workman-like and dependable, while Sale’s art is striking and distinctive. I found the writing in Hulk: Gray, book #42 in my 50 book challenge for the year, quite disappointing. The framing conceit is that Bruce Banner has called a psychiatrist friend of his in the middle of the night. The eventual conclusions of the book rest on psychological implications for the characters, all of which are interesting and valid. I think the same conclusions could have been done with a less forced method. There are several scenes in which Bruce isn’t present. While it’s possible that one of the characters there could have told him later, it is exactly this kind of question–how did he know what happened if he wasn’t there–that weakens the entire book. And while there aren’t many characters in the book, none of them feels much more than two-dimensional. Perhaps if the reader brought a prior knowledge of these characters to the book then the flimsy characterization wouldn’t be such a problem. These graphic novels, though, are meant to stand alone and not rest on intimate knowledge of Marvel Universe continuity. Sale’s art is the best thing about this book, but is not enough for me to recommend it.

Was anyone else struck by how many references there were to over-the-counter, brand-name medicines in Kate Atkinson’s Case Histories? I seemed like once a chapter a character was taking this or that. Was I sensitive to this because the brand names were English and thus not what Americans would use? Or was there some significance to all the “drug” use in the book?

Two movie tickets: $16.50
Medium (quite yucky) popcorn, bottle of water, box of Junior Mints: $11.25
Discounted parking: $2
Friend who offered to watch child at last minute so both of us could go to movie together: priceless.

DVDs are easy impulse buys, which my husband G. Grod and I have successfully managed to curtail in the last several months. Instead we’ve been watching movies from Tivo (too often not in widescreen format. Why? I think only Turner Classic Movies and the Independent Film Channel get this right.), watching DVDs previously bought on impulse, or renting them from the library, though it has a prohibitively long wait list for most good, new releases. But tallying up the costs of our night out means that most DVDs are less expensive than a night out for two, even without paying a sitter.

There are certain movies, like Batman Begins, which is what we saw, that benefit from being seen on the big screen. Yet there are many others that are fine viewed at home, where we usually have much better snacks. Yes, Netflix is still a better deal than buying, but only if you keep returning those movies. We had the same three movies for three months around the time Drake was born. I don’t even remember what they were. We returned them unwatched when we cancelled our subscription. But perhaps impulse-buy DVDs are not the worst budget wrecker in the world. Plus, I bet they’d bring good re-sale if sold quickly at either at Half-Price Books or on Ebay, lowering the cost even more.

Batman and I go way back. My first celebrity crush was on Adam West, when I was in first grade. I watched Batman every day, even if I’d seen the episode before. I remember lying to my mother that they only re-ran episodes once to try to get out of a trip to the store. I missed whatever episode that was (Batman and Robin trapped in a beehive, perhaps?) but I did get a few comics that day. Then my comic reading and Batman appreciation went dormant for many years, emerging much later when a boyfriend handed me the two graphic novel standards–Watchmen by Alan Moore and The Dark Knight Returns by Frank Miller. I was back into Batman, and back into comics, and have not abandoned either in the fifteen (!) years since. Soon after those initial graphic novels, I read Batman Year One, also by Frank Miller, and I liked it even more than I did Dark Knight Returns. (This view, I know, borders on heresy in the geek-dom.) It was a dark story, very much of its time in the 80’s, that emphasized the all-too-human aspects of the characters Batman, James Gordon, and to a lesser extent, Catwoman.

Therefore it was with some trepidation that I saw that a Batman origin movie was coming to the screen. I’d seen all four Batman movies, liking each one less, and actually feeling ashamed at having seen the last one. I had to be reminded who it was who played Batman in it–that was how forgettable George Clooney was in the role. Part of the problem of a Batman movie is the casting of Batman. Most actors can play either rich playboy Bruce Wayne or Batman, but not both. But when the reviews started to come in that Batman Begins was good and Christian Bale was well cast, I began to hope. And when a friend offered to watch Drake so that my husband G. Grod and I could actually go out and see a movie together, we knew immediately what we wanted to see.

Batman Begins was movie #29 in my 50 movie challenge for the year. And it was great fun. It was dark and atmospheric with good special effects. Everyone there played it straight, even the villains–there was no overacting or kitsch factor. There were a few throwaway one-liners to please the groundlings, but overall, it was extremely well done. This is not a movie of Batman Year One. The director and Frank Miller have been reminding people of that in recent interviews. It is, however, a well-done work on the origin of the man behind and within the mask. And because of that, I think it’s a fitting homage to one of my favorite graphic novels.

But consider how many relationships survive sewn together with tacit complicity and mutual deception. It’s the cold light of discovery that’s so dangerous. Better to live with the lies. (P. 170)

Book #41 in my 50 book challenge for the year was highly recommended to me by two members of my writing group. One said it was the perfect mix of story and craft. Mostly, I agree. Mawer tells a story that shifts back and forth in time, and back and forth among characters. Nonetheless, he always maintains strict authorial control, and the story unfolds seamlessly. I don’t agree that it is perfect because of characterization. There was one character who became sympathetic only as it served the story. Once it did no longer, she slipped back into her not very complex self. Another character, also a woman, had an almost cruel lack of redeeming qualities. Finally, the main character, Rob, never really seemed a character in and of himself, only as he related to the other characters. The characters never came alive for me, so I found it worthwhile, but not superlative.

The sky is dark, darker than it is even past 9 p.m. these days, yet it’s only just past noon. There is thunder in the distance. Rain begins, normally enough at first, then pouring down in torrential slashes. Periodic flares of lightning bring illumination, however brief. I love being able to see and feel a storm. While I watch the show outside, Drake naps peacefully in his room, unmoved by nature’s chaos.

If I looked to Drake for affirmation, I might wait a long time. When I returned from my college reunion on a Sunday after last seeing him on a Thursday, he cried, “Ma!” and ran toward me, then stopped suddenly in front of the car door and began to play with the keyhole. I was completely forgotten.

The other night a friend offered to watch him so my husband G. Grod and I could go on a *gasp* date. Drake immediately brought books to her. As we prepared to leave, she asked him, “Doesn’t your mom look nice?” Drake glanced up, then said, “No. Bye-bye. Please read.”

The Scott Pilgrim graphic novels, volumes 1 and 2 (Scott Pilgrim’s Precious Little Life and Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, respectively) by Bryan Lee O’Malley were books number 39 and 40 in my fifty book challenge for the year.

Scott is a 23 year old slacker who has no job, is in a band, and lives in a tiny apartment in Canada with his gay roommate Wallace. Scott has struck up a romance with 17 year old Knives Chau, a girl he met on the bus. Subsequently, though, he sees a girl in person who he recognizes; she’s been skating through his dreams. He introduces himself to the girl, Ramona Flowers, at a party, and their romance begins, though he hasn’t yet broken things off with the increasingly crushed-out Knives. Volume 1 ends with a hilarious Hong Kong movie-ish fight between Scott and an ex-boyfriend of Ramona’s. In Volume 2 Scott must face the second of Ramona’s evil ex-boyfriends, and we get more backstory on the girl that left Scott heartbroken before Knives. There’s also another Hong-Kong movie-ish fight, this time in a public library, during which we learn why Knives has such an odd name.

These are funny, weird and exceptionally charming books. They are teen fiction with magical realism, distinctive manga-inspired art, engaging characters and some drop-dead funny panels. I’ve also liked O’Malley’s previous work on Lost at Sea and Hopeless Savages: Ground Zero, which is written by Jen Van Meter, who is married to comics and mystery writer Greg Rucka.

At my reunion last weekend, my friends were disappointed to learn that I had scaled back so dramatically on my cosmetics purchases over the years. I was the one who could be counted on for having a zillion lip and nail shades, even the ones that didn’t suit me, because I’d gotten them free or just couldn’t throw them out.

In college I had a favored eye compact from Christian Dior, back when they had the 4 little squares of shadow. Yellow went on my lid, green was dusted along the upper lashes over a bright green pencil, orange was in the inner nook of the brow, and blue was swept along under the bottom lashes. This was complimented by Dior’s bright blue mascara, which smelled of roses. It was a trashy look, but I loved it, and wore it day and night until those colors were discontinued. I still feel a puff of nostagia for them now and then, as I did when I remembered it over last weekend.

For me, the key part of the look was the bright green. I have been able to find a good substitute, Humid by MAC, which I use as a liner with a wet flat brush. I also like the dark, bright blue of MAC’s Contrast. (Don’t trust the online color chips. They aren’t accurate.) Smashbox has a product called Off Set that converts powder shadow to liner. A neat idea, but given that I rarely wear colored liner anymore, day or night, water works just fine for me. When I do, though, these colors help bring me back to my cosmetics heyday.

One of the things I looked forward to as a homeowner was having a compost pile. Each time my husband G. Grod or I cooked, especially in summer, I winced at all the good stuff that was going down the disposal or into the trash. Having a compost bin would be both environmentally correct and useful.

Sadly, my dream has died. Apparently, I can’t handle something so basic as decomposing matter. Our compost bin is smelly, attracts creatures of all sorts, and when I went to pull out some of that rich dirt, I found moldy lemon peel that probably dated from our possession of the house, last fall.

I looked up the details online, which sounded simple, though was still more complicated than I’d thought before. I tried stirring things around, but just enraged a few bees. I beat a hasty retreat, and we have been throwing our scraps in the garbage ever since.

I am delicate and the world is impossibly wrong, is unthinkable and I am not forewarned, forearmed, equipped. I cannot manage. If there was something useful I could do, I would–but there isn’t. So I drink. (P. 202)

Paradise by A.L. Kennedy, book 38 in my 50 book challenge for the year, was a recommendation from Blog of a Bookslut, where Jessa Crispin noted that it might be the best book of the year. Michael Schaub disagreed; he thought it was Francine Prose’s A Changed Man, that is, until he read Paradise.

The voice of Hannah Luckraft is always powerful, and at times funny, tragic, pathetic, sharp or blurry. I struggled to limit myself to quoting just one passage above, but the novel begs to be marked up, it is so full of memorable bits. Hannah’s voice runs the gamut, as she narrates this non-linear love story of two drunks. It reaches off the page and draws me in, clutches me in a death-grip until its final, murky end. I was more than impressed by Kennedy’s writing; I was a little scared by it. But I couldn’t look away, either from the writing or from what happened (or didn’t) to Hannah.

Anyone who has read the book, please email me. I must discuss the ending.