Monday, September 26, 2016

Why I'm Not Watching the Debate

Been a while. So, if you’re a regular reader, sorry.  If you’re not, then you’re part of 99.9% of the population (rounded up), so don’t worry about it.

As the title says, I’m not going to watch the debate tonight. And honestly, I’m not going to watch any of the debates. To be clear, I am going to vote.  And I’m guessing that, like most people, I already know who I’m going to vote for.

So that’s one reason I’m not going to watch the debate.

Think about it: what do you think might get said at tonight’s debate that could possibly change your mind? If you’ve come this far with Trump, do you really think there’s anything he could possibly do now to put him out of your favor? Is there anything Clinton could say that makes you go “oh, wow—that’s a good point”? On the other hand, if you were for Hillary, would you suddenly find yourself nodding along to one of Trump’s points? Or hear her mess up a question, and wonder if you’re making the right choice?

Of course not. Trump could come up with a legitimate plan to cure cancer, and I really think we’d just say “fine—give us the cure, but we’re not voting you president because of it.” And Hillary could just spit on Donald in response to every answer he had, and we’d be like “that’s disgusting…but so is he.”

What, then, is the point of the debate?

Ratings. Ratings for the networks, and—more importantly—ratings for the news organizations. The lead up, the live viewings, the analysis. It’s all about entertainment.



The problem is, I have a feeling this is either going to be boring, or it’s going to be a blood sport. Nothing substantive is going to come out in these debates. Hillary will be playing against the “she can only lose” mindset from most commentators, and Trump will either “defy expectations” (by actually answering policy questions with seemingly respectable answers) or will play to the crowd, trolling and zinging Clinton into hopefully making a mistake.

How is that a discourse on the state of the country? How is that an actual debate? How are we supposed to actually get answers from these candidates?

Just as important, though, is my original feeling: that their answers don’t matter. The people interested in watching the debates are already interested in politics (or political theater), and therefore almost certainly decided. This isn’t like Bush/Kerry, where the nation truly had to think about which bland candidate they wanted to lead the country. Or even Obama/McCain, where two “reformers” had different ideas about how they wanted to change the country…but were both well-respected.

No. One is hated by the opposition for being married to her husband, for legitimate mistakes she made in terms of national security, and for the illegitimate reason of happening to be a woman. The other is hated by his opposition as being a notorious flip-flopper, a hate-mongerer, a bigot and misogynist, and a financial enigma that claims personal wealth but won’t disclose that wealth.

These are highly polarizing figures for one reason or another, and if the election had been held yesterday, I don’t think the results would change if the election was held tomorrow, after the debate.

Which all means I’m not going to be watching this debate. And I won’t be watching the next one. I know who I’m voting for, and I have a feeling you do, too. So why pretend it matters other than as entertainment? And by that, meaning you’re hoping someone says something so outrageous that you have an emotional, visceral reaction to it.

Why not just drink yourself sick, or go on a rollercoaster, or hook up with a stranger?


At least you’d be enjoying yourself for a little bit, then.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

Baseball and Books -- A Bad Analogy About the 2015 Hugo Award Nominations

If there's one thing I love more than Science Fiction and Fantasy, it's baseball. And one of the things I love about the sport is not just the game itself—the content, so to speak—but the debates that surround it.

Who's better?
What stats matter more?

Who should win an award, and who should be in the Hall of Fame?

Obviously there's controversy. Perception matters. A player’s connection with reporters matter. Results matter (and yet, what those results are usually up for debate, too).

The funny thing is: I don't think they actually are up for debate. I think I'm right, I think if you disagree you're wrong, and I'm going to back up my argument with the facts as I see them. I'll cite sources and dismiss yours.

(For example, you'll never convince me that Miguel Cabrera--despite the Triple Crown--was the MVP over Mike Trout, or that Jim Rice is a Hall of Famer.)

And I love it. And, in the end, I still love baseball, no matter how wrong you are about the sport.  Because it's fun, and it takes me away from regular life for a while, and we all need something like that.

Clearly the parallels are imperfect, but I can't help connect baseball with what we're currently seeing with the Hugos and the Sad Puppies and the "Social Justice Warriors."  Because, at the end of the day—despite all the time, sweat, and money we have invested in it—we are part of this genre and community because we love it...warts and all.

That, though, is where things get blurry. Because warts are imperfections we can live with.  Cancers, though...

More on that in a minute.

First, though, I'll admit: I hadn't even heard of the controversies until the Hugo shortlist came out. My initial reaction was excitement—a book I acquired (Marko Kloos' LINES OF DEPARTURE, for 47North) was nominated for best novel.  This was a first for me, and Marko is an author I think any fan of military SF should be reading.

But then I was hearing it was tainted...and that got me thinking about baseball.

Right now, there are two major issues that still come up for baseball: steroids and gambling (a young pitcher on the Marlins is currently being fined for betting, even if it wasn’t on baseball). For me, the former is bad. Steroids can have serious health effects, and there's as purity we like to believe about baseball that is marred with needles and clear creams and pills. It's ugly, and it's about money, and it's sad to hear about favorite players falling under suspicion (or worse, being suspended). There are rules, and this is cheating.

And yet, I can't help feel it was part of the game. For good or ill, players chose to do this to themselves, and they'll have to live with that. And they might have hurt others by gaining an advantage (though, knowing what we do about steroids, it can't actually make you better at baseball. Rather, it enhances you're ability to build muscle mass and recover from workouts quicker--still an advantage, but it doesn't change the fact that you have to be good enough to hit a baseball or locate a 90 mile-per-hour fastball in a relatively small box), I don't think their actions were so reprehensible as to warrant complete exclusion from the game.

Gambling (in particular, betting on baseball), though, is more than bad—it’s something I think has no place in the sport. It can have serious repercussions that affect whole teams. It changes the fundamental aspects of baseball, because it's no longer player versus player, but player versus the line—versus money.

As such, I would have no problem including Barry Bonds or Roger Clemens in the Hall of Fame, but I would never want to see Pete Rose there.

For me, then, I can't say I like the stances of the proponents of the platform (or the views of some of those nominated), yet I can’t find a reason to actually fault what they did (the action, not the reason).  As many have pointed out, the Hugo Awards (as well as the Nebulas and any other voted on award—think All-Star games to bring it back to baseball) are flawed, and this group exploited that system.  It happens, and obviously we should be thinking about how to fix it (if we even care at this point).

But what we should never tolerate is any group that advocates specificity harmful actions to others in the community. A jerk by himself hurts himself—don't buy his book. But a jerk that espouses violence, such as members of GamerGate—the Sad Puppies staunch foot soldiers, apparently—then that's something worth noting.

Because the fact is, they are bad for the game. Threats and direct derogatory commentary not only shouldn't be tolerated, they CAN'T be tolerated.  Just as you can’t yell “Fire” in crowded theater (or baseball stadium), you aren’t protected if your views are threatening or abusive. Yes, you are entitled to your opinions, but it doesn’t mean your opinions are allowed to impinge on the safety of others.

The funny thing is—for the most part, I see this as a steroid problem.  This is something we certainly don’t like seeing, but people saw an opportunity and took it—I can’t fault them that.  But to then have a slate that seems to be okay with homophobia and racism and sexism…how is that okay?  And perhaps another baseball analogy will help:

Where would the game be without Jackie Robinson?

The world is evolving, and science fiction and fantasy has always been on the forefront of that. I’ve always been excited to see us pushing the boundaries and debate forward. I would hope we could do so amicably, with the idea that in the end, it’s the stories that really define this genre, just as the games define baseball.  The personalities are intriguing, sure, but we need not define ourselves simply by ourselves. Let’s enjoy the content, let’s debate the situation around it, and let’s keep it amicable. Because at the end of the day, the Red Sox are still going to be there, and I have to live with that…as long as they don’t start threatening my family.

*Awkward analogy: Ended*

A reminder: Kloos and Butcher and Anderson didn't ask to be on the Sad Puppy slate. Read these really good books and then decide.  Don't just "No Award" because they showed up with no affiliation to the group.

Links:











Thursday, July 17, 2014

Summer Song of 2014

Last year, the race was over pretty quickly, with two obvious contenders basically pacing each other (and lapping the rest of the field): Daft Punk's "Get Lucky" and Robin Thicke's "Blurred Lines" walking off with a perfectly acceptable split-decision.

The year before, it was even more obvious, with Ms. Jepsin easily handing us one of the best pop songs in recent memory, "Call Me Maybe."

But this year...

We have contenders, sure, but has anyone really established anything close to zeitgeist?  Is there one song you would need to hear if you were at a party this summer?  Would a trip to the beach--convertible top down--be incomplete without a particular song blasting?

I'm not sure we've had that hit just yet.

But the best way to actually make such a determination is to look at the songs themselves.

The Contenders

Ariana Grande -- "Problem"

I'd have to say the front runner.  Two It-girls (Grande and Iggy Azalea), a great beat, catchy hook, and strong wrap.  Not the greatest dance song (the beat is a bit slow during the verses, but the same could be said for "Blurred Lines" and "Call Me Maybe").  Just not sure it's quite as ubiquitous as you'd expect the song of summer to be.

Calvin Harris -- "Summer"

Fun song, appropriately named, but nothing really special in the rather crowded world of DJ-fronted projects.  Also, came out pretty early in the year, and I don't think it had the staying power a summer song should have.

Jason Derulo -- "Talk Dirty to Me"

Another song that was out pretty early, the sax riff is a love-it-or-hate-it feature (I lean towards liking it--I definitely find myself wanting to get jazzy with it).  Strong club song, too--probably the #2 song on this list.

Michael Jackson -- "Love Never Felt So Good"

This is definitely my favorite song on this list, but I tend to have outlier/B-side taste, so take that for what it's worth.  Huge stars (MJ & JT), very danceable (especially for white people, which is often key in this kind of deliberation), and good hook.  But...again, is this ubiquitous enough?  A good summer song should be like the rakes in the Cape Fear episode of The Simpsons: great the first couple of times, annoying after a while, and then great with endless repetition.  I think this song has the re-listenability (it could be a word), but is it being played at the club, pumped up in the car, AND your mom knows the lyrics?  Not sure it's made it there.

Katy Perry -- "Dark Horse"

Lots of airtime, rap I think you can memorize after a few listens, and a big star.  Probably too dark, though. Also, not really a summer song (February release).


Underdogs:

Nico & Vinz -- "Am I Wrong"

Currently one of my favorite songs, this one has seemingly come out of nowhere and infiltrated pretty much everything I use to listen to music (Spotify and Pandora the primary ones).  Great beat, fun detail (the "oh yeah yeah yeah yeah"), and catchy hook--the whole thing is primed for singing along to.

Also: apparently it came out in 2013...and now that I re-watch the video, I'm remembering my girlfriend sent this around last year.  But it only got big now, so I'm keeping it in (I considered doing the same with Bastille's "Pompeii," which similarly became a hit way after it originally came out last year, but really, it was more an early 2014 hit anyway).

Clean Bandit -- "Rather Be"

A true dark horse, the violin suggests a quieter song, and Jess Glynne's voice isn't dominating.  The lyrics are pretty simple, and the beat is something me and my friends might have made in our basement with a MIDI system.  But then it comes to the hook, and the piano comes in, and the beat just grows and becomes more complex and Glynne seems to get even more into it and...

I don't know.  

And that's what I'm saying.  I think Grande has the inside track, but I also wonder of she's competing against herself with the Zedd-fueled "Break Free," or even with her song-mate's own song (Iggy's "Fancy")?  Is Derulo doing the same thing to himself, with "Wiggle"?   Should I be looking more at up-and-comer Sam Smith (I love "Latch"--and the accoustic version is really good, too) or veteran Usher's "Good Kisser"?  Am I discounting "Happy" too soon?

The fact is, I don't know of we've gotten our song or the summer of 2014 yet.   We've had some good songs, yes, but nothing that's screamed out at us.

The good thing: we've still got some time.  And even of we don't have a definitive champion, I'm pretty happy with what we've gotten so far.

It may not equate to a single great song, but it's adding up to a really strong playlist.*

*i was going to write mix-tape, but then remembered when I was.

Thursday, July 3, 2014

Amazon, Hachette, and...oh yeah, I have a blog.

(I originally conceived this to be a series of tweets, but in the end, it was just to much to say, but that's why it might seem a bit choppy).

Lots of letters going around about Amazon and Hachette.   I have thoughts (that are solely my own).  

The petition is interesting, in that I don’t know what it’s trying to accomplish. Support Amazon? That’s fine…but why do they really need support? I'm pretty sure they're doing okay on their own (consider that Amazon rarely makes statements, making this one from Russ Grandinetti so intriguing).

But it does bring up some good points, namely: publishing is evolving, and there are certain advantages to the Amazon model: 

  • It does pay higher royalties 
  • The author does have more control 
  • It generally has lower prices 

On the other hand, there are problems with the petition’s arguments: 

  • eBook royalties are on net revenue, NOT list price (for everyone) 
  • “traditional publishing” offers many resources in addition to advances and royalties: things that indy authors have to pay out of their pockets 
  • The digital bookspace IS growing, but print is by no means dead, and that’s an important component for both writers and readers 


Sp why ANY author would want to burn a potential avenue to new readers (especially Howey, who has a deal with S&S)—in either direction—is strange to me.  Multiple eggs.  One basket. 

And Amazon has been great for many authors—but so has traditional publishing (even with the BN kerfluffle, how many pBooks did WOOL sell?).

The fact is, the number of indy authors making a living off their writing is a tiny percentage of the number of indy authors.  This is true of all authors, anywhere. Yes, at least authors ARE making money off their works, when they might have been denied the opportunity before, but how many are actually able to quit their jobs versus how many authors have a self-published book?

The odds are stacked against you, no matter what.

And too, like Cory Doctorow's article points out, if you're stuck into an eco-system, how long before that eco-system turns on you? More on that below.

For now, though, I'd like to take a look at the letter from the multiple authors, which is also interesting, and it also feels like a sincere plea.  But… 

Yes, these authors have made Amazon millions.  But, in return, Amazon has sold millions of their books, making them millions. 

As publishers, we should be worried about Amazon cutting into our profits—we’re businesses, after all. 

But we also don’t seem willing to “stand up for principle” either.  Why don’t we pull our books from Amazon?  Because we know it won’t truly hurt them. 

And yes, you could email Bezos if you’re upset by this.  But shouldn't you also email the head of Hachette (or, if we're remembering who we're actually dealing with here, Lagardère Publishing)? Tell them to maybe start selling books directly, and at a discount? 

But they won’t do that: it would upset other booksellers (bookstores, iTunes, Kobo, etc), and that’s the catch-22. Books are a business dependent on two other businesses: 

  • First: authors, to produce content. 


  • Second: booksellers, to sell that content.

  
And that’s why Hachette won’t just say “screw you” to Amazon: because Amazon still makes them too much money.

As I said above, Cory Doctorow notes this in his article in The Guardian.  He calls Hachette hostages... or at least the headline does.

But the headline is a bit misleading (and I'd love to know if it was Cory or the copy-chief who came up with it) when you read the article, because the article also talks about what the change.org petitition says (although perhaps not as eloquently):

Namely, that most publishers are stuck in the Amazon eco-system because of choices THEY made. And the only way to change is to violently rip our DRM from that system.  In other words, Hachette is a hostage, but they also walked into the rusty van because Amazon had them a lot of candy.

And now they have a stomach ache.

 Yes, the "traditiona" model still works, but nobody has said it’s perfect (and I think even the best-paid authors would agree—I know every agent I talks to would!).  Especially if the value of a publishing contract is solely in the terms of advances and royalties (and not the resources a publisher is also going to--or supposed to--provide the author and their book).

It's important, though, to remember that the model isn't really in question in the current dispute.  And, even more important, neither company is negotiating in terms of the authors.  

So if Hachette “wins,” it’s not like they’re going to up their royalty splits with the authors.

These are two giant companies.  Sadly, I doubt individual authors even come up in these meetings, except as potential leverage. 
  
As an aside, I’ve talked about this with many of my friends outside of publishing, and the thing is: they couldn't tell you the difference between publishers and imprints.Many have heard of Random House and Penguin, but most don’t follow imprints (or know who publishes their favorite authors). We've spent so much time with "author as the brand," that hearing a bookstore has a sale on "Hachette books" can't mean a whole heck of a lot to most readers.  Even I can't name all the authors an imprints at my own company, let alone at Hachette. 

So while most people seem to side with the authors on this (including me: I want to be clear, I think it sucks that they're books aren't available through Amazon; I'll also be clear: I buy most of my books through Amazon, and tend to only buy them when they're on steep discount), I don’t think there’s much indignation against Amazon outside the industry. 

And that’s sad: it should be a bigger deal. 

But it should also be a wake-up call to publishers, since we've given away much of our connection to readers.
  
It wasn't long ago that we all clapped when Amazon came on the stage, and it was even more recent that we all were excited for the possibility of Kindle.

And we also forgot (and tend to forget) this fact: this is a business, and Amazon is a business, and their job isn’t to “preserve literature” (to loosely paraphrase James Patterson).

 Amazon isn’t a museum.  It’s not a curator.  It’s a store.  And unless you publish directly with them, they’re not an author’s partner.  They're their distributor.

But the author letter seems to think they ARE partners, especially when they talk about how authors have provided tons of content for Amazon.  But it’s the same they’d do for anything where there’s an opportunity to sell more books, which is almost certainly how Amazon views it, too: you reach our customers through our promotions, you sell more books, WE sell more books, and everyone makes more money.
  
And consider the argument that the authors are doing this for free, and deserve some consideration now in return (The argument basically reading "after all we did for you, and this is how you repay us?").  

Now consider that a blog post on Amazon reaches 100,000s of readers (and potentially millions): ad space on one of the biggest websites in the world isn’t exactly content-for-nothing.

 I know, it sounds like I'm defending Amazon.  And, on some points I am.Yes, I worked at Amazon, and I loved it.  I think the people there are great, and the authors I worked with amazing people.

But I didn’t work on the retail side.  And if I did, I still wasn’t at the level where I would have been in on these discussions.   

I say this all because I'm not trying to apologize for them.  I just think I bring a different perspective, one from both sides, that might be interesting to others (I do wish it was also a bit more interesting reading, but it's definitely a bit disjointed--I DO apologize for that!).

 Obviously you’re free to disagree with me (heck, I’m disagreeing with most of you!).  But I can't help feel frustrated that this discussion seems so narrowly focused.  Especially since, as an industry, we should be looking beyond this immediate moment. It's an important moment, and shouldn't be dismissed, but unless we look down the road, and look where this will land (and not in the hope that the DOJ will break-up Amazon or somehow they'll find the error of their ways, but things in OUR power), we are in such a touch spot.

What we should be doing is:

  • We should be exploring ways to have better control over our own product.
  • We should be more dynamic with our business dealings: lower advances, escalating royalties, bonus structures. 
  • We should be building our brands—and NOT just the authors, but our imprints. 
  •  We should innovate and take risks, instead of reacting.
  •  We should have long-term plans that might radically change some underlying principles of our business.

 How do we implement these changes?  How do we innovate?  Those are the tough questions.

But they’re questions that are necessary and immediate.  Amazon has shown their hand: they’re not defenders of content, nor should we expect them to be. It's naive to think that a store owes us anything 

*Remember, they took a risk of selling the product, creating an infrastructure and overhead on their own dime.  Too, remember that Amazon doesn't return books back to publishers; they accept all the risk when they make book orders.

No, they aren't books' defenders. WE are.  Publishers.  Authors.  It’s OUR content.  

(Another aside: That’s where the petition is both wrong AND spot on. As an author, you  have options, and one of them is a partnership with a publisher.  That partnership is a collaboration, and it isn’t a one-way street of communication. For some authors, it will feel like that.  Hell, for some editors, it feels like that.  For there are authors who don’t want to be in a partnership—they want to be in control from soup-to-nuts. And, if you’re willing to do the work, then BE in control: self-publish! But if you want the resources, access, and expertise, then a publisher (even Amazon Publishing) will require compromise.  A good one will, at least. I can’t speak for all publishers.  Sometimes I can’t speak for myself: I get frustrated when author’s don’t take my suggestions.  But that’s because there ARE people involved.)

And unless we once again take ownership of that content (which other publishers--self-publishers--are doing), it can look like that bleak future that keeps getting predicted for the industry is becoming more an more a reality. And a lot of people are going to find themselves in a tough spot, authors and publishers alike.

Yet, that’s the thing I think keeps getting lost: this dispute isn’t about people. 

 Yes, it AFFECTS people.  It affects them big time.

 But this is about money.  This is about market share.  This is about leverage and power.  It’s tangentially about books, and even less so about authors.

I hate that’s the case, but unless we take a step back from our fear and anger (or adulation and reverence), it’s difficult to talk about this in a way that may actually generate solutions.  And that should be what we're trying to take from this, at least at the industry level.  Because whatever the outcome, things have now radically changed for books and authors.

The people who continue to be radical in changing more are surely going to find themselves in a better space.

---

One last thing: I started this because this is all rhetoric.  These letters.  Amazon’s and Hachette’s statements.  Even my words, now.

 These aren’t facts without emotion: all of these communications are designed to help you take a side.  I'm not a journalist.  Rather, I'm a guy with a blog and some experience on both sides of the fence.

 So it’s easy to fall into the trap of the semantic argument: nitpicking individual words and phrases—that’s how debaters do it.  Looking back at my words, I've done it a few times myself.

 But always consider: what are these people really trying to say.  

  • Is Amazon really good for customers? 
  • Do they really champion authors?
  • Is Hachette acting in their authors best interest? 
  • Do they truly care about readers, per se?


Because actions speak louder than words.  And unfortunately, Amazon is the only one acting. 



And with that, I’m going to read some more submissions.

Thursday, March 24, 2011

Less than a Year


Between posts, that is. I'm very proud of my commitment to this blog.

I'm going to try for shorter posts in the hopes that I'll be better at actively posting.

I figured I'd start off talking about a little show called "Glee." Now I realize we're already deep into the second season, so it's not really "new," but I had a couple of things I wanted to mention.



First off--Jane Lynch is amazing, and Sue Sylvester is already one of my favorite characters of all-time.

Second--A close second is Kurt's dad (whose name I just realized was Burt, which rhymes with Kurt...), played by the very underrated Mike O'Malley. This is the kind of dad I believe I have, and the kind of dad everybody deserves. Every time you think he's going to fail because Kurt is gay, he steps up and brings the awesome. I love Sue Sylvester, but Burt Hummel is my favorite character on the show.

Third--My favorite songs so far (in no particular order, although I'd probably put "Teenage Dream," "Valerie," "Time of My Life," "What it Feels Like for a Girl," and "Don't Stop Believin'" at the top):







Faithfully
Valerie
I Had the Time of My Life
Teenage Dream
One Last Bell
Lady is a Tramp
Don't Stop Believin'
What it Feels Like For a Girl
The Only Exception
Take a Bow
Taking Chances
Baby it's Cold
Defying Gravity
Poker Face
Everlasting Love
Safety Dance
Give up the Funk

Fourth--I do hope Darren Criss (shown above singing "Teenage Dream") is on the show to stay. He's brought a great male pop voice to the cast.

Fifth--This isn't a guilty pleasure. "Glee" is a good show, and I'm not ashamed to say it.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

A Mos Excellent Letter

Dear Mr. Mos Def,

I wish you were a better actor.

There, I said it.

It's not that you're a particularly bad actor, but I just keep waiting for that moment when your talent will make me think: Okay, this guy can act. I'm still waiting.

Oh, there have been glimpses, starting with your work as Ford Prefect in The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy. For sure, the humor of that movie was relatively understated, too, so there wasn't much for you to do that seemed to require much specialized acting. In other words, you played the character in much the same way you act in interviews: quiet, with a dry wit and a little over-the-top clowning. It was a competent performance, but nothing to write a blog post about...

Beyond your role in The Italian Job--a rather mumbling mess that underwhelmed in the face of even Mark Wahlberg's poor performance (bailed out by a Donald Sutherland cameo, the always fantastic Ed Norton, great action sequences, and a particularly gorgeous Charlize Theron)--the only things I remember you in were some rather green appearances on "The Dave Chappelle Show" and the underrated Be Kind, Rewind.

It is to the latter I wish to discuss. For the first time, you were thrust to the forefront--and you weren't half-bad. Alas, that's the best I can do as far as a review goes at the moment. Because while I enjoyed the movie, and feel your role in it helped give a straight-man to the antic Jack Black, ultimately I can't help feel anyone could have stepped into that role. They may not have been so realistically charming (Denzel, Taye Diggs, and Will Smith need not apply), but I'm sure there are plenty of young, black actors who could have played that part.

Hell, Nick Cannon wouldn't have been a bad choice.

And that's what I'm saying: You're 100% more talented than Nick Cannon, and yet, right now, I'd say he's a better actor. And unlike my letter to your Italian Job co-star, Jason Statham, it's not as if you're being given limiting roles. Subdued, perhaps, but certainly not action-oriented drivel that Statham has carved out as his little niche. You're being given ACTING jobs, and yet, for the moment, I'm not exactly sure why.

The good news is that there's hope, which is that you are still relatively young to the game. Watch early episodes of "The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air" and you'll see Will Smith trying to get by on charm alone--he's not acting, he's overacting. Now, though, I'd say he's legitimately one of the best actors working today, in any genre.

Yours isn't a problem of overacting, but underacting. For someone who brings so much life and bravado to the stage or an album, I find it hard to believe your this reserved. And yet, you come across as almost shy when I see you on screen.

You're better than that.

So keep working on your craft.

And, while your at it, do another Black Star and/or solo album, because, really, while you're not the greatest actor, your definitely one of the best rappers.

Sincerely,

David

Saturday, April 17, 2010

The West Wing and the "wild" West--kind of

I've been finishing going through some favorite episodes of mine from the "West Wing," and I just got to the finale. Now, I love this series, and think it's probably one of the best things done on television--especially that it started strong, fixed mistakes it might have made (Moira Kelly, for example), and had an end-game in mind. That last is very important, because they could have easily kept the show going with Matt Santos as President, but it wouldn't have been the same.

But my one beef is the final line. The President and Abbey are on the plane, and Abbey asks "Jed, what are you thinking about." Now, anyone who's watched the series (and, really, why would you watch the finale if you haven't watched the series), know that the best line--nay, the perfect line--would have been "What's next?" Instead, he says "Tomorrow," and then they zoom out to the plane flying through the sky.

What a wasted opportunity. Bartlett must have said "What's next?" dozens of times, establishing it as probably the only catch-phrase from seven seasons. I remember watching the finale when it first aired and feeling cheated when they didn't grab that opportunity.

Ah, well.




In new TV, I'm really excited about "Justified". I've generally liked previous adaptations of Elmore Leonard books (Get Shorty, for example), but I've never read any of them. "Justified" has the same flavor of Get Shorty--it's violent and darkly funny--and the main character is both charming and menacing. I especially like the casting of Timothy Olyphant, who I though was underrated after Go and even Gone in Sixty Seconds. I look forward to what FX can do with this series, and I hope it sticks around for a while.

Monday, March 29, 2010

Getting Women, But Not Like Getting an Object

I wonder if I don't get feminism because I'm approaching it from an idea of equality. Because, the more I think about the women I know that I would call "feminists"—and I want it to be clear that I don't use that word with any kind of negative connotation—don't seem interested in being treated equally with men. At least, not in the universal sense of an all-out, across-the-board equality.

Rather, I do think they want equality when it comes to employment, opportunities, and advancement (for a great depiction of where society stands right now regarding this kind of progress, check out this Newsweek, but not at the cost of sacrificing what makes them feminine. In other words, I think they want access to the boys' club, but they don't necessarily want to be "one of the boys."

But isn't that a "have cake and eat it too" scenario I'm proposing?

No.

Why not? Well, besides the obvious (and yet, not always as clearly obvious as everyone would like) fact that they are not boys, most women want to be accepted and judged because of who they are as women. So rather than being treated as another guy, they want to just be treated as a girl within a group of guys.

And that's why this is a revelation for me—not because I'm discovering that girls and boys are different, but more because I think I'm understanding a bit more that our differences can't be simply glossed over. Put another way, I'm pretty sure women don't want their womanhood erased in favor of being treated like another one of my "boys." Instead, they want to be accepted into the group as another relevant voice—respected for what they contribute, regardless if that contribution feels different from what Bill or Jack or Eric would normally bring to the table.

The obstacle, as I see it, then isn't inclusion, but rather empathy—I think most guys aren't naturally dismissive of women, but they don't realize that they think (and therefore act) differently in social situations.

We (men) think we're doing good, and yet we're actually just creating a different—yet still awkward—situation where women now need to traverse socially.

Now, to be fair to the unfair sex, there is a massive double standard here. Basically, if a woman does want to be treated like one of the guys, then you need to include her. But on the other hand, a woman might act like she wants to be included because she thinks she has to—because she wants to be included in the group, just maybe not in that particular dynamic.

Confusing, right?

But that's why blanket statements about gender are generally ludicrous to begin with. And yet, even if this isn't a completely accurate depiction of the female psyche, I think it's still a more accurate step in the right direction.

The problem is, though, that it's not necessarily easy to identify which women want to join in., and which are just pretending—I know plenty of women who give it as good as any guy, and yet are also incredibly sensitive about taking the same type of crap from guys. Again, this would seem, on the surface, hypocritical, but is it fair to accuse them of that aforementioned "cake" scenario? I'm starting to lean towards the "No" column.

That doesn't mean there aren't triflin' girls—no matter what, individuals are who they are, separate from race, age, nationality, and yes, even gender. But to think that all women fall into that category is a fallacy that should only be perpetrated by men who are probably so ignorant that their opinions are invariably going to sound like the pot calling their gender-opposite kettles black.

The problem then is, what can be done about it? Even armed with this new-found self-awareness, doesn't the biological and social wiring I've been subjected to prevent me from actually changing? In other words, I'm now "book smart" about this issue—I academically grasp the concept of gender inequality on a new level—and yet I wonder if that's going to translate to my daily practice.

But that's when I look over my words again. One in particular stands out: Practice. Yes, lip-service would probably be applauded in certain audiences: That guy gets it. But I don't want to just be saying the words—I genuinely believe they are the right words, and therefore should be implemented.

So how does someone get better at doing something?

Practice.

It won't be an immediate thing—either for me or for the whole male gender (obviously). But if I can remain conscious of it—and keep reminding myself in situations where women might even possibly be uncomfortable to pause and re-evaluate how I’m acting, then gradually it should become part of my nature—and maybe the other men around me will pick up on it.

Interestingly, I’m currently reading Blink by Malcolm Gladwell, which is all about gut reactions and that instantaneous moment of judgment that informs so much of our daily lives. One thing he discuss in the book is the idea of being able to “prime” minds to unconsciously act differently. In other words—in his example—if someone sees positive images of black men such as Martin Luther King, Jr., Barak Obama, and Arthur Ashe, they are more likely to be able to complete this race test that asks the test-taker to associate certain words with whites or blacks. What the test shows is that, without “priming,” most Americans—white and black—inevitably hesitate associating good words with blacks, to varying degrees of delay.

I wonder, then, if that’s what it would take for men to eliminate the barriers and obstacles society has erected in front of women. If, in other words, men simply need to “prime” themselves with images of successful, intelligent, and powerful women in order to unconsciously treat women as equals, rather than unconsciously treat them as unequals.

I wonder, then, too, which examples would do this…

I also wonder if this "onus" solely on the men? Of course not. At the end of the day, we're not mindreaders, and if a woman isn't giving any indication—either during or after—that she didn't feel completely at ease, then it's going to take a much longer time for these types of societal overhauls to be accomplished. Yes, it will take bravery on their part—they might find themselves left out of things when men think they don't need to change their ways to accommodate women. And there might be times when, upon reflection, those were situations that the woman probably didn’t actually want to be a part of.

I know—the idea that “guys need to be guys,” is inherently a false claim, but only to an extent. Guys shouldn’t feel compelled to have designated times for them to “act like guys.” But when I say that, I also mean that guys who think they “have” to have these moments are probably never going to get passed the societal constructs that have kept us stuck in this mindset in the first place.

Men do need to change. That is clear. The thing is figuring out how to change. And, also, figuring out what women need to do to affect this change—including making some changes of their own.

This is unfair. Why should women, who did nothing to be put in this place other than being different, have to change when clearly it’s a male problem?

Because, as I said, we’re not mind-readers. There’s too much tradition, genetics, and precedent to fall back on to make it impossible to simply make a sweeping shift in a cultural mindset. Without input from women—and not just “you guys need to change”—it’s fairly unlikely we can figure it out on our own.

Especially when a lot of men—either consciously or unconsciously—see no reason why they should have to change.

Realistically, I think this is going to be a grassroots operation. It’s going to take individual women to help the men in their lives realize that something is wrong in the way they’re being treated. They need to make it clear how they want to be treated—and make it clear when they feel that the situation isn’t conducive to men and women being equals.

It’s going to take a ton of courage. And, again, it’s completely unfair. But this isn’t about rationality. I’m completely aware of how messed up this is, and yet I still can probably look in hindsight and cringe at the way I acted—and how it probably made my female friends feel.

Perhaps this is just rambling—perhaps I’m way off-base in my analysis of this situation. But if that’s the case, then great! Know why? Because the only way I’m going to know is if someone points it out to me—which means that at least a dialogue is beginning.

Then I might be able to have a conversation with a woman and not have my mind automatically label her as “unequal,” even if I don’t truly believe that.

And then I only have to figure out how to talk to a woman…

Sunday, March 21, 2010

Out from Under Probation and Back on the Shelf

Before I get into what the title is about, I thought I'd get this off my chest first:

You ever have a movie or song or book that you keep having to tell others that "you want to watch, but you just haven't gotten around to it". Oddly, one of the movies like that for me was The Transporter—which I've finally seen.

Probably not what you were expecting, was it?

But that's okay.  Because I didn't realize it was that kind of movie for me until I finally saw it.  Not that it's so phenomenal.  Rather, it's that I can understand why people kept asking me if I'd seen it.

To start with, you have my boy, Jason Statham.  Now obviously he's not really "my boy”—either biologically or socially.  But what our relationship lacks in personal interaction is more than made up with a deep and abiding desire to hang out with this guy and let his coolness wash over me.

Now I'm not under any illusions about his acting ability.  I used to bemoan the fact that he'd be a bigger star if he got better roles and didn't spend his time making movies like Crank and War.

But then I realized something--it's exactly those kind of roles that he is best suited for.

And how I realized that was by finally getting around to The Transporter. It's not a a good movie, by any stretch. But it's a fun movie, and that's all it tries to be. Statham is his normal awesome self (see above—my man-crush on him hasn't abated; he's number 2 on the “Would I...” List only after Ryan Reynolds). But everything else, from the plot to the co-actors to the dialogue is pretty much spectacularly bad.

Except for the action—which is great, and the whole reason you'd watch such a movie in the first place.

Now I don't know if I'll ever watch the sequels, but I will say I'm no longer quite as disappointed that every movie Mr. Statham is in isn't a gem like Snatch or Lock, Stock, and Two Smoking Barrels.

I'm also glad I finally got around to seeing The Transporter.






Just finished Stephen King's latest novel, Under the Dome, and I was pleasantly surprised. Not because I'm a King-hater (although if I saw George III walking down the street, I'd punch him in the face—because he'd be a zombie), but because I'd kind of given up on him, just as it seemed he had given up on us.

Growing up in the Eighties, King was the at the height of his powers, and I loved every minute of it. I must have read It five or six times, The Stand a few times, and Misery more than once, not to mention some of his lesser known novels. And I loved The Bachman Books (still considering “The Long Walk” to be one of my favorite novellas/short stories ever), and will still go back to it maybe once a year.

But then I read Insomnia...and the fascination stopped. A thousand pages of what basically was the movie Dark City--but with senior citizen protagonists—and I was done.

And yet I've returned, and I'm glad I did. Under the Dome does what I think King knows best: the dark side of human nature. The premise is pretty “Twilight Zone”-basic: What would happen if, for no explainable reason, an impenetrable dome covered a small town in Maine?

What ensues are power grabs, riots, panic, murders, and the exposure of secrets—it's “The Monsters are Due on Maple Street” writ large. And I'm completely okay with that.

Because, if I've said anything about where science fiction is going this past year, my prediction has been towards dystopia.

King—no stranger to this realm—comes back to it in a big way, and although he still has his usual “King problems” (Umm, I just wrote a really long book, and I don't feel like I can be bothered with anything called satisfying resolution), I love the characters and how they interact with each other—particularly the main Barbie/Big Jim Rennie dynamic, but also the Andy/Chef relationship at the end—I love the way King gets around the “easy” solutions, and I love the plausibility of the situation (despite the fact that it's based on a completely implausible idea).

I think if you're a fan of Shirley Jackson's “The Lottery,” MJ Engh's Arslan, or even King's own The Stand, I'd check out Under the Dome. While not his greatest book, it's definitely the best thing he's done in a long, long time.

Sunday, March 7, 2010

The Life and Times of My Life Watching TV




I'm always looking for the next “thing” that I'm going to get into, whether it's music, books, comics, or television. Part of this is a way to stay culturally relevant—to maintain tabs on the pulse of what others are (or will be) interacting with on a entertainment basis. Maybe this sounds rather herd-like, but I don't do it to be with the “in-crowd,” but rather to be a part of the conversation—whether it's “Hey, have you seen that?” or, on my part, “You know what you should check out?”

And, oddly, what I'm here to talk about today is a combination of both. On the one hand, my friend kept telling me about this show on HBO that he loved called “The Life and Times of Tim.” And I kept telling him I can't really afford HBO. But it finally came out on DVD (and, apparently got picked up for another season by HBO), and so he lent it to me, because he was sure I'd love it.

Boy, did he have me pegged.

Animated, “The Life and Times of Tim” is the brainchild of comedian Steve Dildarian. If you don't recognize the name, don't worry—I'm sure he's not surprised, either. But I am surprised because the show is comedic genius, even if the animation is borderline Squigglevision (which is a bad thing, if you're wondering).

Which brings me to the other hand—go check it out. As I said, it's hilarious, the humor coming from a combination of the awkward and the absurd. I may have mentioned this before, but I'm usually not a fan of awkward—shows like “Curb Your Enthusiasm” and “The Office” are almost unbearable for me to watch, because Larry David and Michael Scott are always putting their feet in their mouths (their own mouths, that is—it would be even more awkward if they were putting their feet in each others' mouths), making me literally cringe. But, for some reason (and I wonder if it's because the show is a cartoon), I can watch “The Life and Times of Tim” over and over, knowing fully well he's going to do something to sabotage himself.

Perhaps the problem with the show is that it's pretty much impossible to describe the humor just by reciting the lines—so much is contingent on context, tone, and delivery. That's why I recommend you go watch it yourself. It's completely worth it.

Here's a little taste:



Because, seriously: how could any show that coins the term “Bum Rape” be bad?

Sunday, February 28, 2010

I'm Going To Pretend It Hasn't Been Over Nine Months

When I first listened to Paramore's 'latest' album (scare qoutes are my way of indicating that I'm aware I haven't really been up on my posting on this blog), I was pretty much disappointed. It's not that it was bad, per se, but unlike 'Riot!', which was great top-to-bottom--and hooked me from the get-go, 'Brand New Eyes' lacked...something.

So I put it aside for, what I now realize, was a few months.

But when I finally gave it a second chance, I was more than pleasantly surprised--I can't stop listening.

Perhaps the most important thing I discovered the second time around I that 'Riot!' was a completely different album. Now this may seem obvious, but I think, like most people, we get in our minds that we don't want different. Rather, we want bands (and authors, and screenplay writers, etc.) to keep doing what made us love them in the first place. I know a lot of my friends couldn't stand 'Sam's Town' (and look at how much Rolling Stone doesn't get it), the Killers second album, because it was a significant departure from 'Hot Fuss.'. And they were right. But that didn't mean 'Sam's Town' was a bad album--far from it, in my opinion.

While I wouldn't say 'Brand New Eyes' is that different from 'Riot!', I will say there's a bit less 'edge', a bit less hardness to the songs. Whereas 'Crushcrushcrush' and 'Misery Business' have driving guitars and even a bit of meanness to them, 'BNW' carries itself with a bit less angst, and a bit more sweetness. My favorite songs off the album, notably 'The Only Exception' and 'Turn It Off' are basically ballads, fairly simple in melody--and stronger for that.

Here's "The Only Exception":



If you were expecting a second 'Riot!'--like I was--'BNW' will probably disappoint you. If you want to expand your musical tastes--and think Paramore writes good rock songs regardless of sub-genre, then I think you'll find yourself pleasantly surprised.

Even if it takes months to figure it out.

Tuesday, May 12, 2009

I've Been Pantsed--and I'm Okay With It

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.

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.

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.