I recently read I Just Want My Pants Back by David J. Rosen, and I was pleasantly surprised (which I realize is kind of insulting, but when you pick up enough books on a whim, you’ll understand how nice it is that something doesn’t suck). It’s got some genuinely laugh-out-loud moments, and enough relevance to my own life (I won’t go into how) to strike a chord.
One of those tough-to-categorize books, I’d probably lump it in there as “dude lit” (I think they call it “lad lit” in Britain). While not quite at the same level as Nick Hornby or even Jonathan Tropper, it’s also because the focus is a little different—this isn’t exactly a relationship book with a guy in the lead, but a book about a guy whose life pretty much sucks. It reminded me a lot of a book I read a while ago called The Frog King, another decent book called The Slide by Kyle Beachy, and I thought it was decidedly better than the over-hyped novel Indecision by Benjamin Kunkel (which although that novel started strong and then crapped out, still had an awesome cover).
The main character, Jason, is a loser—and not really a lovable loser. In fact, he’s kind of a dick, and you do wonder why any of his friends tolerate it. But he’s also enough of a winner—at least early on—to get with some girls, so you root for him a little. One of these random hook-ups (and, by the way: for a book written in 2007, casual sex is fine, but when the characters don’t wrap it up, I shudder to think of how much Chlamydia Jason has) turns into something more, only to fizzle once again—absconding with his favorite pair of pants. His life seems to go downhill from there.
Amazingly, the story is enjoyable, probably because David Rosen has a very comfortable writing style. He’s got some funny turns of phrase, and, for the most part, does an admirable job with the plot-lines he establishes.
The biggest flaw I saw was that it seems clear he didn’t know what kind of book he was writing—something I feel might be prevalent in this indeterminate genre. In other words, if this was “chick lit,” in the end, things would be resolved, the heroine would be redeemed, and awesomeness would abound. Here, although it does end on a high note, there’s so much left open, with the future laid out in front of him.
It’s almost as if Rosen (as with so many of these male authors) think that guys don’t want to read happy endings—that we’d think they’re too sappy. The thing is, the kind of guy who wants to read about another guy’s troubles with the ladies is a little bit sappy! We want the good guy to win, because we’ve seen him take his licks. We want to know that the reward for, as Calvin’s dad would say, “building character” is getting the girl and finding that great job. We don’t need extreme bliss: sex and money will do us just fine.
But that’s my rant, and I’m sticking to it.
I Just Want My Pants Back isn’t a great novel, but it’s a very strong debut from a writer whose next book I will certainly keep my eye out for.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Saturday, May 9, 2009
Wolvie-Berserker Style
I was lucky enough to see a premier of Wolverine two weeks ago, and I must say it pretty much lived up to my expectations. Although not as great as the first two X-Men movies (come back, Brian Singer!), what Wolverine provided was a fun, action-packed movie that I hope for in a summer blockbuster. Is it like Iron Man or the The Dark Knight in terms of both being fun and excellent? No, not really. But it's got some great fight scenes, and enough funny or exciting moments that I think people who just enjoy good action movies are going to want to see it, regardless of whether or not it's a “super-hero” movie.
My biggest beef with it was there were some completely unnecessarily bad green-screen moments that just made me wonder: where'd the budget go? At one point, Wolverine is walking away from an exploding helicopter, and the fireball that grows from behind him is so cheesy, I almost thought I was watching a Burger King commercial:
These bad-guys are flame-broiled...
just like every Whopper!
Corn-tastic.
Still, I think there are worse things to spend your money on, as it's an entertaining film regardless of its flaws, so go check it out.
I especially think Liev Schreiber does an excellent job in his role as Wolverine's brother (and, ultimately, Sabertooth), and although I didn't swoon like some of the ladies did when Gambit, played by Taylor Kitsch, came on screen, I liked his work, too. I was even shocked that Will.i.am didn't suck balls. Perhaps my biggest disappointment was that Ryan Reynolds had such a small role, as I have a huge man-crush on him.
Saturday, March 21, 2009
A Sing-ular Moment
I've never been what you would call an “opera guy”, but I think that's more for lack of experience rather than any real dislike of the genre. I mean, I like classical music, and I like musicals, so why wouldn't I enjoy opera?
The answer is: I don't know.
I think the biggest thing that kept me from checking it out (besides lack of funds and a tuxedo) is the clichéd fat-woman-in-the-viking-helmet screeching. But I don't think every opera does that, and, even if it does, fat chicks need love, too.
From the audience, I mean.
The reason I bring this up is because I had a chance to go to an opening night (yes, “an” opening night, as it was really a week of opening nights) of the newly renovated Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center a few weeks ago. And while I didn't see a true opera, what I got to see was a guy singing opera.
I really, really liked it.
The night actually began with a piano player with the awesome name of Imogen Cooper playing a Schubert program, “Piano Sonata in A major, D.959” (I'm not sure if “D.959” is actually part of the title, but that's what my Playbill says). I was impressed—as I normally am when someone really skilled plays an instrument. However, I was a little apprehensive, as not only was the piece she played pretty long (and I wondered about my cultural stamina), but coming up was a guy singing.
In German.
For like an hour.
But it was awesome. Furchteinflößend, even. (Please pardon me if my German is Internet-translation derived, and therefore horribly, horribly offensive).
Again, the music was Schubert, this time “Die schöne Müllerin, D.795.” And, again, Cooper was playing piano. But now this guy was singing, Mark Padmore.
A tenor, at first I was like: “Can I really listen to a guy singing in German for an hour?” But as he got into it, so did I, and I began to realize that German can be a beautiful language. And then the music kept building and building, and I could feel it.
It's a good feeling.
An hour later, and I was a very happy customer.
Bravo, dude!
So now I'm on the lookout for a good starter opera—something for the amateur like myself who wants to give it a shot. Recommendations are welcome.
I'm also going to check out a Mark Padmore album. Guy's got some chops.
By the way—the Hall was looking pretty good. My one beef was how my seat was set up. We had seats in a "box" on the second level, but the chairs were just chairs that could be moved. Which is good, because the way the were set up, they weren't angled to view the stage. Too, the box wasn't really graded (like stadium seating). So, unless you're tall, you might have a hard time seeing past the person in front of you. That meant that the seat against the railing had a good view, but when I switched with my friend after the intermission, I really did not get to see Cooper and Padmore at the same time. Which is kind of a drag.
Also, the atonal "Intermission-is-over" chime was not only incredibly loud, but also super-duper long. I hope they've gotten that under control.
The answer is: I don't know.
I think the biggest thing that kept me from checking it out (besides lack of funds and a tuxedo) is the clichéd fat-woman-in-the-viking-helmet screeching. But I don't think every opera does that, and, even if it does, fat chicks need love, too.
From the audience, I mean.
The reason I bring this up is because I had a chance to go to an opening night (yes, “an” opening night, as it was really a week of opening nights) of the newly renovated Alice Tully Hall at Lincoln Center a few weeks ago. And while I didn't see a true opera, what I got to see was a guy singing opera.
I really, really liked it.
The night actually began with a piano player with the awesome name of Imogen Cooper playing a Schubert program, “Piano Sonata in A major, D.959” (I'm not sure if “D.959” is actually part of the title, but that's what my Playbill says). I was impressed—as I normally am when someone really skilled plays an instrument. However, I was a little apprehensive, as not only was the piece she played pretty long (and I wondered about my cultural stamina), but coming up was a guy singing.
In German.
For like an hour.
But it was awesome. Furchteinflößend, even. (Please pardon me if my German is Internet-translation derived, and therefore horribly, horribly offensive).
Again, the music was Schubert, this time “Die schöne Müllerin, D.795.” And, again, Cooper was playing piano. But now this guy was singing, Mark Padmore.
A tenor, at first I was like: “Can I really listen to a guy singing in German for an hour?” But as he got into it, so did I, and I began to realize that German can be a beautiful language. And then the music kept building and building, and I could feel it.
It's a good feeling.
An hour later, and I was a very happy customer.
Bravo, dude!
So now I'm on the lookout for a good starter opera—something for the amateur like myself who wants to give it a shot. Recommendations are welcome.
I'm also going to check out a Mark Padmore album. Guy's got some chops.
By the way—the Hall was looking pretty good. My one beef was how my seat was set up. We had seats in a "box" on the second level, but the chairs were just chairs that could be moved. Which is good, because the way the were set up, they weren't angled to view the stage. Too, the box wasn't really graded (like stadium seating). So, unless you're tall, you might have a hard time seeing past the person in front of you. That meant that the seat against the railing had a good view, but when I switched with my friend after the intermission, I really did not get to see Cooper and Padmore at the same time. Which is kind of a drag.
Also, the atonal "Intermission-is-over" chime was not only incredibly loud, but also super-duper long. I hope they've gotten that under control.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Screw Chicks, I Just Gotta Dance
Back when Dane Cook was funny, that line made me laugh. It still does. But this isn't about Dane.
About three or four months ago, my brother had given me the soundtrack to the musical Wicked. I had kind of wanted to listen to it for a while, because I had heard good things about it.
Then I listened to it.
“Good”? How 'bout “Freakin' amazing!”
I always approach an album with some trepidation, because the odds that I'm going to be disappointed at some point is always there—there's no way I'm going to like every song. Even on albums that I love, there's usually one or two songs I wish were better. Although Wicked is no exception, I have no problems with the songs I don't like (and really, the one song I sometimes find myself skipping now—and this is after weeks of repeated listening—is “Something Bad”).
The fact is, I was listening to the soundtrack so much, I was actually up at night, the songs running through my head. As I don't sleep very well to begin with, I figured I needed to do something about this.
So I went to go see the actual show.
Living in New York City affords me this kind of activity (although, ironically, in order to live in New York City, I can rarely afford this kind of activity), and after getting tickets three months in advance—this show has been in the theater for years, and that's still how long the waiting list is for a Wednesday night performance—I finally got to see the story performed in its entirety, filling in the gaps between the songs.
I ain't gonna lie—I cried a little. I know, I know—I'm a grown man. But sometimes its nice to let something emotional take over for a few hours, and where's a better place than the darkness of a theater? I got chills watching them sing the songs that I had already established such a strong connection to and, for me, great music has the ability to physically effect me.
When I was younger, I had a similar experience with Les Miserables: I had listened to the CDs so much, that by the time I saw the play, it bordered on a religious experience. I don't give standing ovations at a lot of performances—you need to knock my socks off—but these two shows (and sports—I give lots of standing ovations during sports) were some of the only times I thought an artist deserved that kind of admiration from me.
One thing I wanted to note, too: Usually, I am the biggest proponent of “the book is better.” In a few rare instances—The Lord of the Rings standing out prominently in my mind, which Richard Morgan pretty much explains for me on Suvudu.com—I am torn, because I think the performance of the story actually brought out visually much more than the author could put down on paper.
Wicked the Broadway musical is waaaayy better than the book.
I remember being intrigued by Gregory Maguire's take on the Wizard of Oz mythos, and thought that, overall, he did a very decent and creative job with the story of the Wicked Witch of the West. But I remember a dryness to the book that, followed by the sequel, Son of a Witch, just didn't grab me.
The musical, though, grabs you and doesn't let go. Grabs you like a British nanny, and shakes and shakes and...
Does that reference even work? Sorry.
I'm not saying don't read the book, just that it really wasn't for me—I have no desire to go out and get the third one in the series. I will say, I love the design of the book, though (I know, that's a weird, back-handed compliment, isn't it?).
But definitely listen to the soundtrack. That is, if you're into musicals—you pretty much have to be willing to have people burst into song at the drop of a hat. I will say that one thing that works so well about this (and about any good musical) is that the transitions between dialogue and song feel natural—the actors don't just burst into song for no apparent reason. The songs become gratifying explanations of what's been happing/about to happen.
And, if you get the chance, go see the show. I had a little trepidation that, because Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel were no longer part of the cast—they were the original Glinda and Elphaba (the Wicked Witch) on Broadway and on the soundtrack. But the two actors I saw, Nicole Parker (Elphaba) and Alli Mauzey (Glinda), were excellent. I don't think they're going to allow the show to suck, and I can honestly say I wasn't let down at all.
Sorry in advance:
It was wicked awesome.
About three or four months ago, my brother had given me the soundtrack to the musical Wicked. I had kind of wanted to listen to it for a while, because I had heard good things about it.
Then I listened to it.
“Good”? How 'bout “Freakin' amazing!”
I always approach an album with some trepidation, because the odds that I'm going to be disappointed at some point is always there—there's no way I'm going to like every song. Even on albums that I love, there's usually one or two songs I wish were better. Although Wicked is no exception, I have no problems with the songs I don't like (and really, the one song I sometimes find myself skipping now—and this is after weeks of repeated listening—is “Something Bad”).
The fact is, I was listening to the soundtrack so much, I was actually up at night, the songs running through my head. As I don't sleep very well to begin with, I figured I needed to do something about this.
So I went to go see the actual show.
Living in New York City affords me this kind of activity (although, ironically, in order to live in New York City, I can rarely afford this kind of activity), and after getting tickets three months in advance—this show has been in the theater for years, and that's still how long the waiting list is for a Wednesday night performance—I finally got to see the story performed in its entirety, filling in the gaps between the songs.
I ain't gonna lie—I cried a little. I know, I know—I'm a grown man. But sometimes its nice to let something emotional take over for a few hours, and where's a better place than the darkness of a theater? I got chills watching them sing the songs that I had already established such a strong connection to and, for me, great music has the ability to physically effect me.
When I was younger, I had a similar experience with Les Miserables: I had listened to the CDs so much, that by the time I saw the play, it bordered on a religious experience. I don't give standing ovations at a lot of performances—you need to knock my socks off—but these two shows (and sports—I give lots of standing ovations during sports) were some of the only times I thought an artist deserved that kind of admiration from me.
One thing I wanted to note, too: Usually, I am the biggest proponent of “the book is better.” In a few rare instances—The Lord of the Rings standing out prominently in my mind, which Richard Morgan pretty much explains for me on Suvudu.com—I am torn, because I think the performance of the story actually brought out visually much more than the author could put down on paper.
Wicked the Broadway musical is waaaayy better than the book.
I remember being intrigued by Gregory Maguire's take on the Wizard of Oz mythos, and thought that, overall, he did a very decent and creative job with the story of the Wicked Witch of the West. But I remember a dryness to the book that, followed by the sequel, Son of a Witch, just didn't grab me.
The musical, though, grabs you and doesn't let go. Grabs you like a British nanny, and shakes and shakes and...
Does that reference even work? Sorry.
I'm not saying don't read the book, just that it really wasn't for me—I have no desire to go out and get the third one in the series. I will say, I love the design of the book, though (I know, that's a weird, back-handed compliment, isn't it?).
But definitely listen to the soundtrack. That is, if you're into musicals—you pretty much have to be willing to have people burst into song at the drop of a hat. I will say that one thing that works so well about this (and about any good musical) is that the transitions between dialogue and song feel natural—the actors don't just burst into song for no apparent reason. The songs become gratifying explanations of what's been happing/about to happen.
And, if you get the chance, go see the show. I had a little trepidation that, because Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel were no longer part of the cast—they were the original Glinda and Elphaba (the Wicked Witch) on Broadway and on the soundtrack. But the two actors I saw, Nicole Parker (Elphaba) and Alli Mauzey (Glinda), were excellent. I don't think they're going to allow the show to suck, and I can honestly say I wasn't let down at all.
Sorry in advance:
It was wicked awesome.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
The Western World
I recently finished watching every season of the "West Wing." Now I'm not a Johnny-come-lately--I watched the show from the very beginning. But I hadn't seen it in a long time, and so I went out and got the the complete series box set.
And lost time.
The main reason I got it was because I had a hankering for certain episodes, certain shining moments when I really wished Bartlett was our president. Now, I think the whole series is excellent, but here are a few of my favorites, in no particular order:
"Game On"; Season Four--was the debate between Bartlett and a rather "folksy" governor from Florida, Robert Ritchie, played by James Brolin. While the characters clearly compare to the idea of Gore and Bush, the writers made it so that the debate ended the way it could have ended, if Gore had embraced his intelligence and went after Bush with it, instead of trying to come across as appealing. Bartlett kicks Ritchie's ass.
"Posse Comitatus"; Season Three--The final episode of Season Three, the juxtaposition between Shakespeare's Henrys and the situation Bartlett is dealing with is fairly impressive. More, though, is the emotional climax, accompanied by an excellent rendition of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah."
"Shutdown"; Season Five--Some may wonder why I like this episode so much, but it comes down to the big scene when Bartlett decides to go to Capitol Hill to negotiate the budget. It's a moment of political theater (which is basically what "The West Wing" is anyway), and at the point where the Speaker of the House, played very well by Steven Culp, realizes his grandstanding may have failed.
"Isaac and Ishmael"; Season Three--I'm sure this makes a lot of "favorite" lists, but I like the way Aaron Sorkin reacted to 9/11 (in fact, the whole way the show dealt with it was both creative and, I think, respectful--never cashing in on it or trying to rewrite history with its own characters), with a smart discussion of the issues people were talking about (and are still talking about). Very powerful.
"The Debate"; Season Seven--This was about, well, the debate between Santos (Obama) and Vinick (year 2000 McCain--you know, reformer, different-kind-of-Republican McCain). When it first aired, it was live, and although it was obviously scripted, it made for innovative, interesting television. Even better, though, is that the writers didn't just make Santos destroy Vinick, but rather made it a thoroughly fair debate. Since my personal politics are a little odd, I pretty much found that whoever "won" the topic gave the answer I agreed with.
"The West Wing" was probably one of the best television shoes ever, because it was a complete story, with a great balance of drama, humor, and enjoyable characters. I did think the final season was the worst one, but I also think that "worst" is relative. Mostly I didn't like that it wasn't as much about the West Wing, and that the character of Josh--who works in doses--took a lead role. Also, I thought it was stupid that they would give away who won the election in the first episode of the season, especially since the season tries to put the election in doubt. Were we just supposed to forget what we saw in the first episode? Not likely.
Still, though, I found the weeks of my television viewing life that I lost because I was watching DVDs well worth it.
Bartlett for America: Yes we can!
And lost time.
The main reason I got it was because I had a hankering for certain episodes, certain shining moments when I really wished Bartlett was our president. Now, I think the whole series is excellent, but here are a few of my favorites, in no particular order:
"Game On"; Season Four--was the debate between Bartlett and a rather "folksy" governor from Florida, Robert Ritchie, played by James Brolin. While the characters clearly compare to the idea of Gore and Bush, the writers made it so that the debate ended the way it could have ended, if Gore had embraced his intelligence and went after Bush with it, instead of trying to come across as appealing. Bartlett kicks Ritchie's ass.
"Posse Comitatus"; Season Three--The final episode of Season Three, the juxtaposition between Shakespeare's Henrys and the situation Bartlett is dealing with is fairly impressive. More, though, is the emotional climax, accompanied by an excellent rendition of Leonard Cohen's "Hallelujah."
"Shutdown"; Season Five--Some may wonder why I like this episode so much, but it comes down to the big scene when Bartlett decides to go to Capitol Hill to negotiate the budget. It's a moment of political theater (which is basically what "The West Wing" is anyway), and at the point where the Speaker of the House, played very well by Steven Culp, realizes his grandstanding may have failed.
"Isaac and Ishmael"; Season Three--I'm sure this makes a lot of "favorite" lists, but I like the way Aaron Sorkin reacted to 9/11 (in fact, the whole way the show dealt with it was both creative and, I think, respectful--never cashing in on it or trying to rewrite history with its own characters), with a smart discussion of the issues people were talking about (and are still talking about). Very powerful.
"The Debate"; Season Seven--This was about, well, the debate between Santos (Obama) and Vinick (year 2000 McCain--you know, reformer, different-kind-of-Republican McCain). When it first aired, it was live, and although it was obviously scripted, it made for innovative, interesting television. Even better, though, is that the writers didn't just make Santos destroy Vinick, but rather made it a thoroughly fair debate. Since my personal politics are a little odd, I pretty much found that whoever "won" the topic gave the answer I agreed with.
"The West Wing" was probably one of the best television shoes ever, because it was a complete story, with a great balance of drama, humor, and enjoyable characters. I did think the final season was the worst one, but I also think that "worst" is relative. Mostly I didn't like that it wasn't as much about the West Wing, and that the character of Josh--who works in doses--took a lead role. Also, I thought it was stupid that they would give away who won the election in the first episode of the season, especially since the season tries to put the election in doubt. Were we just supposed to forget what we saw in the first episode? Not likely.
Still, though, I found the weeks of my television viewing life that I lost because I was watching DVDs well worth it.
Bartlett for America: Yes we can!
Friday, February 13, 2009
What Bwings Us Herw Togeta, Today
I recently read probably one of the best books about a marriage that I think exists, and oddly enough, I'm not sure if most people focused on that when it originally came out.
The reason I have my doubts is because even though "Wife" is in the title, I think the majority of readers felt that the main thrust of the story was that it was a fictionalized account of the life of Laura Bush. And while I'm told it certainly mirrors much of the ex-First Lady's story, I couldn't help but think that this is not a book about politics, or power, or even an insider's female perspective of the former president.
No, to me, American Wife is about marriage: the ups and downs, the rewards and pitfalls, the struggles and triumphs. And, if I can say so from my vast experience from being married for so long (all of zero days, my friends), I feel like the book is an honest and accurate portrayal of how a typical marriage--no matter how atypical the circumstances it finds itself in--works.
And that's where Curtis Sittenfeld, the author, does such an outstanding job. Now, I had read her previous novel, Prep, and for the most part enjoyed it. I thought the writing was good, and the story interesting enough to keep me moving along. However, the protagonist of that story, Lee, is ultimately disappointing, as she succumbs to the pressures to fit into a world she doesn't belong to, without ever truly redeeming herself. Granted, I think that's the point: that a teenage girl who finds herself thrust into a much higher social strata will almost certainly try whatever she can to adapt, but I never sympathized with her.
With Alice Lindgren in American Wife, while we watch her make mistakes, ultimately I feel we can identify with her, or, at least, understand her decisions. Clearly she's too good for her husband, but we see, through her eyes, that there is something worth loving in him, and although at times he comes across as boorish or spoiled, he's not a monster. He's just a man with too much pressure on him from too many angles, and she's the one thing that seems to keep him grounded.
One thing I've asked my other friends who have read this book is, based on their own personal politics, had their opinions of George Bush changed at all. While most have said no (claiming there's just too much "history" to cast off their distaste for him based on a work of fiction), almost all of them have said that their opinion of Laura Bush has certainly changed--and for the better. While not exactly a Bush fan myself, I was perhaps a little disappointed that people didn't approach their feelings about Bush with him painted in this new light, but I can respect it. Still, I actually feel Sittenfeld did more to help Bush's legacy than any partisan biography could ever do.
And the reason for that is not so much because she's a vocal liberal who is penning an objective fiction, but because the novel holds the feeling of so much truth that it's hard to dismiss that maybe her characters are true depictions of the real-life people they represent.
No matter what, though, this is a phenomenal novel, a story that transcends the politics and history and instead thoroughly explores an intimate relationship in a way few books I've read have ever done. I highly recommend.
The reason I have my doubts is because even though "Wife" is in the title, I think the majority of readers felt that the main thrust of the story was that it was a fictionalized account of the life of Laura Bush. And while I'm told it certainly mirrors much of the ex-First Lady's story, I couldn't help but think that this is not a book about politics, or power, or even an insider's female perspective of the former president.
No, to me, American Wife is about marriage: the ups and downs, the rewards and pitfalls, the struggles and triumphs. And, if I can say so from my vast experience from being married for so long (all of zero days, my friends), I feel like the book is an honest and accurate portrayal of how a typical marriage--no matter how atypical the circumstances it finds itself in--works.
And that's where Curtis Sittenfeld, the author, does such an outstanding job. Now, I had read her previous novel, Prep, and for the most part enjoyed it. I thought the writing was good, and the story interesting enough to keep me moving along. However, the protagonist of that story, Lee, is ultimately disappointing, as she succumbs to the pressures to fit into a world she doesn't belong to, without ever truly redeeming herself. Granted, I think that's the point: that a teenage girl who finds herself thrust into a much higher social strata will almost certainly try whatever she can to adapt, but I never sympathized with her.
With Alice Lindgren in American Wife, while we watch her make mistakes, ultimately I feel we can identify with her, or, at least, understand her decisions. Clearly she's too good for her husband, but we see, through her eyes, that there is something worth loving in him, and although at times he comes across as boorish or spoiled, he's not a monster. He's just a man with too much pressure on him from too many angles, and she's the one thing that seems to keep him grounded.
One thing I've asked my other friends who have read this book is, based on their own personal politics, had their opinions of George Bush changed at all. While most have said no (claiming there's just too much "history" to cast off their distaste for him based on a work of fiction), almost all of them have said that their opinion of Laura Bush has certainly changed--and for the better. While not exactly a Bush fan myself, I was perhaps a little disappointed that people didn't approach their feelings about Bush with him painted in this new light, but I can respect it. Still, I actually feel Sittenfeld did more to help Bush's legacy than any partisan biography could ever do.
And the reason for that is not so much because she's a vocal liberal who is penning an objective fiction, but because the novel holds the feeling of so much truth that it's hard to dismiss that maybe her characters are true depictions of the real-life people they represent.
No matter what, though, this is a phenomenal novel, a story that transcends the politics and history and instead thoroughly explores an intimate relationship in a way few books I've read have ever done. I highly recommend.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
Music for White People
I catch a lot of crap from my friends for the music I listen to, basically because I listen to pop. It wouldn't be far from the mark to say that my musical taste is similar to that of a 15-year-old girl.
So let me tell you about two CDs--wildy different--that have been finding heavy rotation on my iPod (disregarding the idea that iPod's do or do not technically have "rotations").
The first is really girly (or so others would claim), so I'll get that out of the way. It also happens to be one of the best rock CDs I've listened to in a long time.
I'm talking, of course, about Fall Out Boy.
Now, I've been a fan of theirs since "Sugar, We're Going Down" (which is still their best song) off the album From Under the Cork Tree. For those of you unfamiliar with them, you might have heard of their wacky bassist, Pete Wentz and his "famous" fiancee.
Most consider them the poster princes of emo, a musical genre so broad I'm not quite sure what falls under its purview. That said, I don't really care if the music I like is called emo. Especially when it is pretty much the only rock music on the radio today. I think. I don't really listen to the actual radio.
But I have listened to Fall Out Boy's latest album, Folie à Deux, and it's fantastic. What helps is that, although Pete Wentz writes the lyrics (which I usually don't understand), Patrick Stump, the lead singer, also writes the music. And he's extremely talented. He's also got the most soulful voice for a white guy since this singer.
And what he's done is write a great album, with a number of particularly notable songs. It starts off strong--like all their albums tend to--with the song "Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes" (yeah, the titles are fairly ridiculous). But it doesn't let up, following with the singles "I Don't Care" and "American Suitehearts," which sandwich a very good song, "She's My Winona." Then, except for the totally unforgettable "W.A.M.S.", it continues along with good track after good track, including "What a Catch, Donnie" and my favorite song, "20 Dollar Nose Bleed," which is a duet with Panic at the Disco's lead singer, Brandon Urie.
Now I'm not promising anything, but I think if you like rock music--if you like good melodies and catchy hooks--then you should at least try Fall Out Boy. If they're not your cup of tea, try coffee. Because, really, they have plenty of fifteen-year-old girls to be fans.
Of a different genre--although very in the "music that white people like" category, much like this guy--is Kanye West's newest album, 808 and Heartbreak.
Named after the Roland MC 808 drum machine, it meant that Kanye only had a minimal sound selection to work with, creating a sparse, semi-futuristic track-list that is built upon with the use of the Auto-Tune, the voice-changer that somehow made this clown 2008's Nate Dogg.
While not for everyone, there is a simplicity to the music that makes the depressing subject matter of his mom dying and breaking up with his girlfriend so much more powerful. Kanye is a guy who always brought the ego, and although I think he's always been musically deserving of his own accolades, I find that by taking away some of that hubris, he actually proves just how talented he really is.
Although I can listen to the whole album front-to-back on repeat (except for the last song, the live bonus track), I particularly like the three-track set right in the middle: "Love Lockdown," "Paranoid," and "Robocop."
This isn't the Kanye West you're used to, and maybe that's a good thing. This is hip-hop I haven't really ever heard, and I find myself fascinated by it.
Which I'm sure was his plan all along.
So let me tell you about two CDs--wildy different--that have been finding heavy rotation on my iPod (disregarding the idea that iPod's do or do not technically have "rotations").
The first is really girly (or so others would claim), so I'll get that out of the way. It also happens to be one of the best rock CDs I've listened to in a long time.
I'm talking, of course, about Fall Out Boy.
Now, I've been a fan of theirs since "Sugar, We're Going Down" (which is still their best song) off the album From Under the Cork Tree. For those of you unfamiliar with them, you might have heard of their wacky bassist, Pete Wentz and his "famous" fiancee.
Most consider them the poster princes of emo, a musical genre so broad I'm not quite sure what falls under its purview. That said, I don't really care if the music I like is called emo. Especially when it is pretty much the only rock music on the radio today. I think. I don't really listen to the actual radio.
But I have listened to Fall Out Boy's latest album, Folie à Deux, and it's fantastic. What helps is that, although Pete Wentz writes the lyrics (which I usually don't understand), Patrick Stump, the lead singer, also writes the music. And he's extremely talented. He's also got the most soulful voice for a white guy since this singer.
And what he's done is write a great album, with a number of particularly notable songs. It starts off strong--like all their albums tend to--with the song "Disloyal Order of Water Buffaloes" (yeah, the titles are fairly ridiculous). But it doesn't let up, following with the singles "I Don't Care" and "American Suitehearts," which sandwich a very good song, "She's My Winona." Then, except for the totally unforgettable "W.A.M.S.", it continues along with good track after good track, including "What a Catch, Donnie" and my favorite song, "20 Dollar Nose Bleed," which is a duet with Panic at the Disco's lead singer, Brandon Urie.
Now I'm not promising anything, but I think if you like rock music--if you like good melodies and catchy hooks--then you should at least try Fall Out Boy. If they're not your cup of tea, try coffee. Because, really, they have plenty of fifteen-year-old girls to be fans.
Of a different genre--although very in the "music that white people like" category, much like this guy--is Kanye West's newest album, 808 and Heartbreak.
Named after the Roland MC 808 drum machine, it meant that Kanye only had a minimal sound selection to work with, creating a sparse, semi-futuristic track-list that is built upon with the use of the Auto-Tune, the voice-changer that somehow made this clown 2008's Nate Dogg.
While not for everyone, there is a simplicity to the music that makes the depressing subject matter of his mom dying and breaking up with his girlfriend so much more powerful. Kanye is a guy who always brought the ego, and although I think he's always been musically deserving of his own accolades, I find that by taking away some of that hubris, he actually proves just how talented he really is.
Although I can listen to the whole album front-to-back on repeat (except for the last song, the live bonus track), I particularly like the three-track set right in the middle: "Love Lockdown," "Paranoid," and "Robocop."
This isn't the Kanye West you're used to, and maybe that's a good thing. This is hip-hop I haven't really ever heard, and I find myself fascinated by it.
Which I'm sure was his plan all along.
Saturday, January 10, 2009
In Gran Style (amendment)
This may be a bit of a spoiler, so don't read if you like to know how your movies turn out by watching them.
I just wanted to point out a little more about the hero aspect of Walt: as the movie progresses, and Walt's spirituality has a rebirth (not a poor choice of words, if you think about it), just notice the position they show him in after he confronts the gang for the last time. If that's not purposeful (and, as well directed as the movie is, I can't think it wouldn't be purposeful), then I'm a monkey's uncle.
In other words, I think it's alluding to a certain important Christian figure, namely: Jesus.
I guess my only problem, then, is that are we then supposed to believe Walt is a Christ figure? Because that wasn't really the message I was getting the entire movie.
Still, sometimes I think it's so easy to get away with symbolism as to forget that the cleverness doesn't necessarily make the story better (and in a visual medium such as film, it's even easier to think something looks "cool" and forget its "coolness" doesn't gibe with the message it's sending), so. . .
I forgive you, Mr. Eastwood.
Maybe I'm a Christ-figure.
Or maybe I'm going to Hell for saying that. Mmm, delicious irony.
I just wanted to point out a little more about the hero aspect of Walt: as the movie progresses, and Walt's spirituality has a rebirth (not a poor choice of words, if you think about it), just notice the position they show him in after he confronts the gang for the last time. If that's not purposeful (and, as well directed as the movie is, I can't think it wouldn't be purposeful), then I'm a monkey's uncle.
In other words, I think it's alluding to a certain important Christian figure, namely: Jesus.
I guess my only problem, then, is that are we then supposed to believe Walt is a Christ figure? Because that wasn't really the message I was getting the entire movie.
Still, sometimes I think it's so easy to get away with symbolism as to forget that the cleverness doesn't necessarily make the story better (and in a visual medium such as film, it's even easier to think something looks "cool" and forget its "coolness" doesn't gibe with the message it's sending), so. . .
I forgive you, Mr. Eastwood.
Maybe I'm a Christ-figure.
Or maybe I'm going to Hell for saying that. Mmm, delicious irony.
Friday, January 9, 2009
In Gran Style
And no, it's not a pun because Clint Eastwood is old.
Although, he is, like, really old.
I just saw Gran Torino, and while I don't want to say it's one of the best movies of the year (sorry, The Dark Knight wins that, hands down), it is a fantastic film. What's amazing is what a terrible job the commercials on television do in showing what the movie is about.
Watch this:
Now, let me ask you something: would you think this movie would be hilarious? No, right?
Well, let me tell you: it's hilarious. I laughed pretty much the entire movie, except at the end, when I cried like the little girl I am. But still, until that point, I got to witness what makes Clint Eastwood such a fantastic actor, namely--the ability to make pure fury reserved, contained, joyless, and yet ultimately funny. I'm really not kidding here; this movie will make you laugh.
But it's not a comedy in any stretch of the imagination. It's funny because Eastwood's character, Walt, is such a curmudgeonly, racist old bastard, that you almost can't believe he ever found a woman to marry him in the first place (the movie begins at his wife's funeral). Yet, he plays it so honestly that, like the Hmong girl Sue who befriends him, you connect so powerfully to his inner-goodness, while laughing off his outer-asshole. Think of him as Archie Bunker, but with a dark tour of duty in the Korean War.
That's why the ending is so powerful, too. Because you know it has to end roughly for someone--it keeps building and building towards a violent climax--and so the although it's not exactly shocking, it is perfectly tuned to strike the right emotional chord. So while I don't know if he should win Best Actor, I have no doubt that he's going to be hard to beat for Best Director (he really did get the most out of his actors).
One last thing. I was talking with my friend the other day, who happens to be a high school English teacher. One of the classes he teaches is about the American Hero, and I couldn't help thinking what a perfect example Walt is of this archetype. He's proud, strong, quiet, loyal, cunning, and self-reliant. Sure, there's a lack of the stereo-typical wilderness normally associated with the American Hero, but, in a contemporary spin, one could clearly see the suburbs of Detroit, with the de-gentrification eroding what Walt observes was a fine neighborhood, as a "wild" setting, where savage men terrorize people just trying to carve out a piece of land to call their own. His mission--to not only tame this wilderness, but the understand it, has a familiar ring, doesn't it?
Anyway, when you get a chance, watch this movie--I think you'll be hard-pressed not to find it one of the very best this past year has had to offer.
Although, he is, like, really old.
I just saw Gran Torino, and while I don't want to say it's one of the best movies of the year (sorry, The Dark Knight wins that, hands down), it is a fantastic film. What's amazing is what a terrible job the commercials on television do in showing what the movie is about.
Watch this:
Now, let me ask you something: would you think this movie would be hilarious? No, right?
Well, let me tell you: it's hilarious. I laughed pretty much the entire movie, except at the end, when I cried like the little girl I am. But still, until that point, I got to witness what makes Clint Eastwood such a fantastic actor, namely--the ability to make pure fury reserved, contained, joyless, and yet ultimately funny. I'm really not kidding here; this movie will make you laugh.
But it's not a comedy in any stretch of the imagination. It's funny because Eastwood's character, Walt, is such a curmudgeonly, racist old bastard, that you almost can't believe he ever found a woman to marry him in the first place (the movie begins at his wife's funeral). Yet, he plays it so honestly that, like the Hmong girl Sue who befriends him, you connect so powerfully to his inner-goodness, while laughing off his outer-asshole. Think of him as Archie Bunker, but with a dark tour of duty in the Korean War.
That's why the ending is so powerful, too. Because you know it has to end roughly for someone--it keeps building and building towards a violent climax--and so the although it's not exactly shocking, it is perfectly tuned to strike the right emotional chord. So while I don't know if he should win Best Actor, I have no doubt that he's going to be hard to beat for Best Director (he really did get the most out of his actors).
One last thing. I was talking with my friend the other day, who happens to be a high school English teacher. One of the classes he teaches is about the American Hero, and I couldn't help thinking what a perfect example Walt is of this archetype. He's proud, strong, quiet, loyal, cunning, and self-reliant. Sure, there's a lack of the stereo-typical wilderness normally associated with the American Hero, but, in a contemporary spin, one could clearly see the suburbs of Detroit, with the de-gentrification eroding what Walt observes was a fine neighborhood, as a "wild" setting, where savage men terrorize people just trying to carve out a piece of land to call their own. His mission--to not only tame this wilderness, but the understand it, has a familiar ring, doesn't it?
Anyway, when you get a chance, watch this movie--I think you'll be hard-pressed not to find it one of the very best this past year has had to offer.
Thursday, January 8, 2009
Oh snap
To my fan:
I'm soooo sorry.
I got super caught up in pretty much everything--from work to finishing up grad school (which I think is done, but I'm sure NYU wants to bleed me some more) to just having a life--that I just didn't have time to talk about the interesting things that I've experienced.
I was, you know, experiencing them. But lets get back into the swing of things with some of my favorites from the past almost-year.
First off: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. It's a book. With the BEST TITLE EVER. Written by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows, it's quite possibly my favorite book of the past year. Besides the outstanding, easily accessible writing, it's a quite touching story about the Isle of Guernsey during World War II. At once charming, funny, and a little sad, I blew through it in no time, and pretty much fell in love.
And yes, maybe I love it so much I will marry it.
What makes it rather unique is that it is an epistolary novel, as it is a collection of letters and telegrams that combine to make a single story.
I actually was talking about it at a friends house, and his mother overheard the conversation and was curious about it. When I sent her the book, she loved it, too (but since polygamy is illegal, we couldn't both marry it), and decided to buy it for all her friends for Christmas.
It was a Festivus miracle!
Moving on, I'm still really into what I'm seeing as the "Motown Revival." What Amy Winehouse ostensibly started was this return to an old-school sound, and other artists I may or may not have mentioned in previous posts--Jamie Lidell, Duffy (the remix of "Mercy" with The Game is fantastic), and, not surprisingly, Al Green--have all found their ways into my iPod because they just make great, head nodding music.
One of my favorites, though, has been Raphael Saadiq's latest offering, The Way I See It. This is fun, upbeat R&B, and songs like "100 Yard Dash" and "Staying In Love" are great because they could be played in the 1960's just as easily as they could today. And, in case you're wondering, Mr. Saadiq used to be the lead singer in Tony! Toni! Toné!
Finally, I figured I'd end with a shout out to the best cartoon for adults on television: "The Venture Bros." If you haven't seen this gem, let me urge you to figure out when it's on The Cartoon Network, and set your DVR to stun (and, come on people--if you don't have a DVR, isn't it about time to start re-examining that thing you call your "life?"). It's a strange pseudo-Johnny Quest spoof that follows Dr. Venture, his two teenage sons Hank and Dean, and their bodyguard Brock Sampson (played by the most excellent Patrick Warburton, aka, David Putty.) as they avoid being killed by super-villains (such as The Monarch, who dresses up like a butterfly, Dr. Girlfriend, who looks like Jackie O but has a man's voice, and Phantom Limb, who is a walking torso) and go on crazy adventures.
Now I love cartoons, and I still think the peak of "The Simpsons" stacks up against the very best of television, period. "South Park" is still excellent, "Family Guy" has it's moments, and although there really aren't any new episodes, "Futurama" continues to be one of my all-time favorites (despite the atrocity they called "The Beast With a Billion Backs," which was pretty much perfectly reviewed here), but right now, the cartoon putting out the most consistently funny, truly ingenious work is "The Venture Bros."
Go Team Venture!
(Glad to be back)
I'm soooo sorry.
I got super caught up in pretty much everything--from work to finishing up grad school (which I think is done, but I'm sure NYU wants to bleed me some more) to just having a life--that I just didn't have time to talk about the interesting things that I've experienced.
I was, you know, experiencing them. But lets get back into the swing of things with some of my favorites from the past almost-year.
First off: The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. It's a book. With the BEST TITLE EVER. Written by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows, it's quite possibly my favorite book of the past year. Besides the outstanding, easily accessible writing, it's a quite touching story about the Isle of Guernsey during World War II. At once charming, funny, and a little sad, I blew through it in no time, and pretty much fell in love.
And yes, maybe I love it so much I will marry it.
What makes it rather unique is that it is an epistolary novel, as it is a collection of letters and telegrams that combine to make a single story.
I actually was talking about it at a friends house, and his mother overheard the conversation and was curious about it. When I sent her the book, she loved it, too (but since polygamy is illegal, we couldn't both marry it), and decided to buy it for all her friends for Christmas.
It was a Festivus miracle!
Moving on, I'm still really into what I'm seeing as the "Motown Revival." What Amy Winehouse ostensibly started was this return to an old-school sound, and other artists I may or may not have mentioned in previous posts--Jamie Lidell, Duffy (the remix of "Mercy" with The Game is fantastic), and, not surprisingly, Al Green--have all found their ways into my iPod because they just make great, head nodding music.
One of my favorites, though, has been Raphael Saadiq's latest offering, The Way I See It. This is fun, upbeat R&B, and songs like "100 Yard Dash" and "Staying In Love" are great because they could be played in the 1960's just as easily as they could today. And, in case you're wondering, Mr. Saadiq used to be the lead singer in Tony! Toni! Toné!
Finally, I figured I'd end with a shout out to the best cartoon for adults on television: "The Venture Bros." If you haven't seen this gem, let me urge you to figure out when it's on The Cartoon Network, and set your DVR to stun (and, come on people--if you don't have a DVR, isn't it about time to start re-examining that thing you call your "life?"). It's a strange pseudo-Johnny Quest spoof that follows Dr. Venture, his two teenage sons Hank and Dean, and their bodyguard Brock Sampson (played by the most excellent Patrick Warburton, aka, David Putty.) as they avoid being killed by super-villains (such as The Monarch, who dresses up like a butterfly, Dr. Girlfriend, who looks like Jackie O but has a man's voice, and Phantom Limb, who is a walking torso) and go on crazy adventures.
Now I love cartoons, and I still think the peak of "The Simpsons" stacks up against the very best of television, period. "South Park" is still excellent, "Family Guy" has it's moments, and although there really aren't any new episodes, "Futurama" continues to be one of my all-time favorites (despite the atrocity they called "The Beast With a Billion Backs," which was pretty much perfectly reviewed here), but right now, the cartoon putting out the most consistently funny, truly ingenious work is "The Venture Bros."
Go Team Venture!
(Glad to be back)
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