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.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
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.
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.
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.
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