Ch-Ch-Ch-Ch-Changes: "Bottom line" reviews

You may or may not have noticed, but I have tweaked my layout again. It looks almost the same, but I have tweaked my font and color choices. But really I did all this because I have also added a new page to my blog.

As time has gone on, I've found myself offering more and more reviews on books I've read, movies I've seen and other things I felt you needed to know about, good or bad. I've finally gathered these reviews in one place. I've named the page "Bottom Line" (found between the blog name and posts) because I tend not to be wishy-washy with my reviews. If I hate a novel, I'll tell you. And if I love a movie, I'll insist you see it. I'm all about the bottom line in my opinions.
These reviews span back at least two years, so feel free to check out the page and reread (or read for the first time) those posts. In the process, I revamped and reorganized some of the reviews so there is a little continuity between posts. I also ended rereading every post, and I actually want to go back and read at least one book and I definitely need to sit down and watch the biopic Chaplin again. Maybe after we've moved in and I'm not in the middle of a six-day workweek.

EDIT: Not to change things up too much for you, but I've added a second page (called "An outsider in Suffolk") featuring links to all the columns I've written for the Suffolk News-Herald. I've allowed comments on that page, so if you have any thoughts on my columns or ideas for new column topics, please share. Thanks.

Mainstream Avant-garde: The Cheese Monkeys by Chip Kidd

I've mentioned I've been reading a lot, right? Well, I figured it's time to start sharing my thoughts on what I've been reading. So, look for a weekly review of the books I've been reading. I'll attempt to post on Tuesdays so you always know when to check back for tips on a good book, or to ignore my blog if books really aren't your thing.

Overview
Today's book is called The Cheese Monkeys: A Novel in Two Semesters. Chip Kidd, a man known more for his graphic design skills than for his writing, authored a novel. The book is set in the 1950's and follows a college freshman as he acclimates himself to a new school and his seemingly random decision to be an art major. Kidd touches on themes of love, young relationships and even a first foray into gay infatuation.

Reactions
Upfront I have to admit that the book really isn't that great as a novel. As a collection of entertaining anecdotes and lessons on life, Kidd does deliver some great one-liners and surprising twists. Considering it had been a while since I had been able to read books for fun, it offered a quick summer read with just enough substance to leave me hungry for more books.

But my favorite part about the book was the design of it, likely furnished by Kidd as well. Depending on how you look at the edge of the pages, you can see some of the graphic design teacher's favorite life lessons to the students.

As a designer myself, I got a kick out of it. Unfortunately for people picking up this book with intention of delving between it's pages, the best thing about it really is this quirky design choice.

Bottom Line
I wouldn't necessarily run out and buy this book, but if you feel like a quick, entertaining read, I wouldn't mind loaning out my copy.

Book Review: "The Cry of the Sloth"

As I mentioned before, upon finishing Salman Rushdie's "The Enchantress of Florence," I had several books to look forward to. The first one I picked up was "The Cry of the Sloth," by Sam Savage. Unlike "Enchantress," less than a week later I turned the last page to find there was no more. And it's taken me this long to write a post on it because I've spent the last week soaking it up from my memory of it. That's how I read, though I'm not sure why. Some people move right on to the next book when done reading a previous book. It takes me a bit to fully digest that book enough to move on to the next. And so it was with "The Cry of the Sloth."

Overview

"The Cry of the Sloth" is a collection of a man's writings. From grocery lists to letters to signs he posts on the apartments he owns, Savage slowly, but surely, leads us into the life of a down-on-his-luck author/literary magazine publisher/reluctant landlord named Andrew Whittaker. These glimpses into his divorce, his growing disillusionment with the his literary magazine called "Soap" and his inability to succeed as a writer grow more and more depressing as the novel continues.

Gut feelings

There is something in Andrew that is quite possibly a mirror of us all. His faults mirroring our own faults, and that also creates quite a bit of food for thought. As Andrew gets more and more wrapped up in himself and hides from the world in his dark, empty house, you can almost feel the despair seething from the pages as Andrew attempts to fake a cheery outlook on life to his ex-wife. And perhaps the most haunting passage is the book's namesake, when he explains how the cry of the sloth would sound if naturalists actually understood that lonely creature. Savage sneaks this metaphor in until suddenly you realize that this is really Andrew, a sloth at the end of his age crying out in despair over the lonely, sedentary life nature has forced him to have (again, the fact that he blames nature for all the sloth's troubles also helps remind the reader how Andrew got where he is today).

And it was the growing detachment and desperation is really what made it so difficult to get over this book. There are moments when you feel as though Andrew is just a victim of circumstance and then there are times when you know that he has brought this all on himself, in fact he deserves his fate for all that he has done. And perhaps the most thought-provoking part of Savage's story is that you aren't quite sure what his fate was. To that question I dedicated several days, reading my most recent issue of National Geographic to distract myself when it all got too much to comprehend. I'm still not quite sure what his fate was, but it was definitely a speedy read, due partly to the content and partly to the fact that it is often much easier and quicker to read separate letters in first-person than to slog through long chapters of third-person prose.

Bottom line

It's worth reading, but not if you're looking for the next beach read, or even, a drink-hot-chocolate-as-the-snow-falls-outside-read. It also made me want to pick up Savage's other book, which he published before "Cry." I'm told that "Fermin" is about a rat who not only learns to read, but also likes to. Sounds intriguing, no?

Movie review: "Wendy and Lucy"

For Christmas, my dad bought me "Wendy and Lucy." Little did he know I had been eyeing this film for months after seeing a trailer and reading a fairly positive review. His reason for purchasing it: "It's a girl and a dog on the cover. I figured, Beth will like this, right?"

I must admit, I decided to write a review of the film for today's post without watching it first, thinking it'd be a cinch. I've spent the last several hours trying to come up with the best way to adequately describe the film.

Overview

A gritty portrayal of a young person down on her luck, "Wendy and Lucy" is an independent film from Kelly Reichardt, starring Michelle Williams as Wendy and a gorgeous mutt as Lucy. But this movie was so much more than a film about hard times. It was a portrayal of life in small-town Oregon, as well as how humans react in the face of poverty. It is also, at it's very core, about a girl and her dog.

The film opens as train clacks by in the seeming wilderness. Our introduction to Wendy and Lucy is one of them at play, Wendy throwing a stick and Lucy romping around after it. It seems very innocent, until Lucy wanders off into a bunch of rough, outsiders around a bonfire. That's when you get your first close-up glimpse at the dirty face and worn clothes that Wendy is wearing. And so, in the first five minutes, Reichardt is able to easily and poetically put Wendy and Lucy's life of general poverty into a visual nutshell.

Wandering from town to town in search of work, the two have only each other when confronted by strangers and meager times.

Gut reactions

This, to me, seemed like the essence of the story: As Wendy and Lucy fall asleep in Wendy's broken down car, Wendy whispers, "Night, baby girl."

As I said, the film is first and foremost a poignant look at the love between a girl and her dog. Reichardt then steers it toward darker landscapes, as we are confronted with a grocery store clerk so set on doing right and following rules that he breaks the best friends apart, setting the real story in motion. You also glimpse the townfolk's reaction to this rough young woman sleeping in her car, the car repairman who is woefully ignorant of Wendy's troubles, the shifty homeless population that accosts the newcomer and (thankfully for the redemption of the human race) the congenial night guard who aids Wendy in her time of need.

In the end, if you're anything like me, you'll cry at the heartbreak, rage at the hypocrisy and smile at the small token of friendship that gives you the tiniest glimpse of the goodness we wish all people were capable of.

I think the beauty of the film lies in the grittiness of Reichardt's videography and lighting and in the gentle lesson that she lays out for the viewer, without shoving it down your throat. There's also a lovely circularity to the progression of the story, where the beginning is darkly mirrored by the events of the ending.

Bottom line

Watch it, but be prepared that it is not a happy-go-lucky film. And that is what's great about it, I think, that it's not the same old movie fodder we've been force-fed recently. But please soak up and enjoy the beginning. Because, even if you're nothing like me, I bet that when the film ends, you'll wish you could actually go back to the first five minutes of the movie, where a content Wendy is humming softly to her happy-go-lucky dog as they play fetch in the woods.

Enchantress of Florence: Less than enchanting

On several strong recommendations, I purchased the Enchantress of Florence by Salman Rushdie back in July. By all accounts, this book would provide an engrossing escape with a thoroughly enchanting world and many engaging characters. I admit the world was beautifully described by Rushdie, not to the point that you felt you were in it, but his words left you with a sense that you were at a glorious art museum and had just fell into a bright, impressionist painting. Unfortunately, it took me four months to get past the first chapter, which I read several times simply because I would put it down and not want to pick it back up until I accidentally found it hiding under the bed in a layer of dust.

As a side note, this generally does not happen to me. With most books that I read, I find myself thinking about the book even when I'm not reading it, the realistic settings, the enchanting characters, and generally I can't wait to get home and fall back into that story again. Not so with "Enchantress."

Overview

In his latest novel, Salman Rushdie creates a world that connects disparate times, locales and infamous figures in a web that has the potential to be a great read. Admittedly, there are moments when you can lose yourself in the book, namely when you are finally privileged to hear the main character's tale that he has crossed oceans and continents to tell (the tale is the source of the title of the book, the so-called Enchantress of Florence).

Gut reactions
Unfortunately for Rushdie, he spends far too much time on trying to develop his frame story about a man who travels from America to Hindustan (India) to tell the king an important tale. Indeed, he spends far too much time on these secondary (in my mind) characters (the king and the traveller), while still failing to develop them as much as the characters we are allowed to glimpse in the book's inner tale (the enchantress, her companion and mirror and the men who love them).

I managed to begin reading "Enchantress" in earnest in mid-December. Now that it is mid-January, I am disappointed to say I finally finished it, and only because I needed something to do between loads of laundry. I would have much rather spent the whole time exploring the world of the Enchantress than to be rushed through it between descriptions of the traveller and the king.

Bottom Line

In the end, it will take a very positive review from a trusted individual to get me to pick up another Rushdie tale. Until then, I have several more promising books on my shelf waiting for my attention, including Sam Savage's "The Cry of the Sloth" and Dave Eggers' "The Wild Things."

A peek at a possible future

Until one fateful Sunday when I was bored at work and decided to read past editions of the New York Times' Sunday Magazine, I hadn't given much thought to what our marriage would be like. I mean, I assumed it would be more of what we do now, only with an added tax benefit. Then I began reading "Married (Happily) With Issues," the cover story of the Dec. 12 New York Times Magazine.

Overview
In it, Elizabeth Weil describes her marriage as "pretty good." Unfortunately for her analytical mind, Weil realizes that she thinks of her marriage as being "like the waves on the ocean, a fact of life, determined by the sandbars below, shaped by fate and the universe, not by me." She thinks that it is just "O.K." because they haven't tried. If her and her husband, Dan, begin to apply themselves, how much better could it be?
While this may be logical, it ends up leading to a storm of issues. As Weil recalls, "You set out to improve your marriage; it implodes."

Gut reactions
Over the course of reading the article, I began thinking about the boy and I.
Weil says this about their decision to marry: "We never discussed, or considered discussing, why we were getting married or what a good marriage would mean. It all seemed obvious. I loved Dan; I loved how I felt with him. Ergo I wanted to be his wife."
I was taken aback by that. That's what I feel. Is that the wrong answer? Suddenly I was asking myself, "Why do I really want to get married?" But I couldn't come up with anything else. Freaked out, I stopped reading for a day.

Monday, again bored at work, I decided to take a second crack at the article. That's when I read that Weil admits that "while working to improve our marriage, I found myself pushing my husband away." Things only got worse for the two as divorce eventually got brought up.
And through it all, I kept getting more scared. I mean, my family's history doesn't offer a vote of confidence for me making it in a marriage. Not only are my parents divorced, but their parents are divorced. Two of my mom's siblings are divorced (my dad doesn't have siblings to add to the pattern). Even my sister is getting divorced. The boy says this just means that I'll be breaking the pattern, but if I've had no good examples of marriage, how can I hope to be in a good marriage?

Weil concludes that the "good-enough marriage" is one in which both partners "keep growing, to afford them the strength and bravery required to face the world."
I do think we do this well. Each of us saves the other from ourselves, while at the same time we allow each other to be ourselves. The boy may do a little more of that right now, but as time goes on, I'm sure it will even out. I think the best lesson Weil has is the one she doesn't actually spell out: Don't try too hard. I think marriage comes a lot more naturally than she thinks. And the reasons for marrying come even more naturally. I think our reasons are just as valid as any other, and the fact that there was no surprise among any of our friends that we were getting engaged helps to drive that point home to me.

Bottom line

This article is worth the read, even if you aren't yet married. And despite not always agreeing with her dim view of marriage, it did get me thinking about my impending nuptials and the future they would bring. And, to me, the best marker of good writing is that it forces you to think about your own life.

Food again? It's like I'm hungry or something.

We were lazy tonight. So instead of cooking the bacon-wrapped tilapia that I had planned on making, the fiance and I went to bd's Mongolian Grill (Don't worry. A recipe for said tilapia will soon be appearing.). If you know nothing about Mongolian Grill-style food, than let me break it down: It's make-your-own stir fry. Yes, it is that simple.

At bd's, the corporate version of the Mongolian BBQ's I went to as a child, you order either one bowl or unlimited bowls (for only $2 dollars more). You also tell your server if you want white or brown rice and tortillas or lettuce wraps.

You then fill your bowl with your choice meat (from chicken to beef to fish to scallop to calamari), noodles(if you want them), and veggies (and tofu is in this section as well). Then you get your pick of 20-some sauces, which you can then doctor with an array of dry spices or fresh grated garlic. You take your bowl to the open grill where boisterous grill masters will cook up your choices and add your sauce at the end, just to warm it through.

This is what mine looked like when it was done:


I got lettuce wraps and there is brown rice in the black and red bowl. In this plate, I got scallops, bok choy, mushrooms and baby corn with Mongolian BBQ sauce that I added fresh garlic and red chile sauce to. For my other plate, I got strip steak, chicken, broccoli, carrots, bean sprouts, red peppers, mushrooms and baby corn.

I got water, but the boy got one of the many cocktails that they offered (he likely picked the fruitiest one he could find, because, let's face it, he's a girly drinker).

Conclusion: Delicious and a LOT of food. If you're not that hungry go for the one bowl and just overfill that one bowl. Then maybe you'll have room for some of the desserts they offer. Also, this restaurant has an ambiance that seems fit for a loud, boisterous party, say with a bunch of the fiance's frat brothers?

The wonderful Bill Bryson

For the past couple months (and believe me you'll need that long if you don't have that much time to read) I've spent much of my free time reading the perfect book: A Short History of Nearly Everything by Bill Bryson. I've blogged about this author before and have since spread an interest in him by using his books as gifts for several people.

Reaction
To put it succinctly, this book is perfect. As the back of the book says, "Bill Bryson confronts his greatest challenge: to understand - and, if possible, answer - the oldest, biggest questions we have posed about the universe and ourselves." Though on the long side, it's chapters are written in more of an anecdotal form. This means you can pick up pretty much anywhere and not feel lost. And his anecdotes are a mixture of amusing and informational. With chapter titles such as "How to build a universe" and "The restless ape," readers get a sense of his simple, succinct wit and ability to dilute years and years of scientific history into a relatively short 475 pages in the paperback copy (we're talking billions and billions of years here!).

Bottom line
This is the book that will make you fall in love with Bill Bryson's writing style and make you welcome scientific and mathematical insights, even if you don't have the best handle on the two subjects.

Pushing Daisies

I don't watch that much TV. I'd rather read a good book than be blasted with all that rubbish. Thirty to 60 minutes is not enough time to get interested in characters or a plot. And all the in-your-face commercials are fairly sickening. Which is why you will rarely see anything on this blog mentioning the medium. Except for right now.

It's rare to find something extraordinary on television. Most of that is mindless drivel that could use a good dose of books to really be interesting. One show that has a similar soul as some of my favorite movies and books is called "Pushing Daisies."

Overview
Set in a technicolor fantasy land, a pie-maker named Ned can bring the dead back to life. He runs into an enterprising private detective who decides to black-mail the hapless Ned into helping him solve murder cases. Ned can only bring the dead back to life for a minute, after that a nearby life-form of similar size will drop dead. And if he were to touch that living being a second time, they would be dead again, this time permanently. With his strange gift, Ned brings his murdered childhood love back to life, and he refuses to send her back to death. Adventures ensue and wonderful characters that you absolutely fall in love with flit across your screen.

It's usually these shows that are also put to an early death because not enough people will give such oddities a chance. Such is the case with my beloved show, or so the rumor mill would have me believe. Oddly enough, the plot would finish out for it's followers whether it is cancelled or not. Writers say they will create a comic book to finish the story, so unlike fans of shows like Firefly, 'Daisies'-lovers will not be so unfulfilled.

Bottom line

Go out and buy or rent this amazing show. It really was the best thing on tv for an unfortunately short amount of time.

Much ado about (literally) nothing...

Bill Bryson is a journalist who turned to nonfiction novels years ago. His subjects range from travel writing to science to language and even history (generally incorporating historical knowledge into most of his books). His writing is marked with a humorous style that is also informed by a huge knowledge of words and language. So you get highly informed, flowing prose that is both simple and straight forward as well as deep and reflective, all wrapped in a tone of humility and amusement. Upon reading Bryson, right, you tend to get a sense that he is a genial fellow with a big laugh who has a unique love of learning, and who wants to impart that love as well as the learning itself. I also feel as though he is quite bemused by the world around him as well. Bryson has a long list of titles to his name. His most famous ("A Short History of Nearly Everything") garnered him an Aventis award for general science writing and a Descartes award for science communication. Both awards are highly prestigious for a book not really written for the science community, but for those of us who can't really understand what all those big words and five-chalkboard-long equations mean. I have quite enjoyed the first book that I read by him, called "Shakespeare: The World as Stage," published in 2007.

Overview

From the beginning, where a quick look at the three visual representations of the literary giant show that we still don't know what the man looks like, Bryson whisks you away on a journey into the unknown, literally. As Bryson is fond of saying, there is little we can actually know about Shakespeare other than the 4 or 5 recorded mentions of his name (spelled several different ways, by the way).
On the journey you learn from Bryson all of the legends of Shakespeare, mostly false, cooked up by a populace that needed to know more about the man that shaped so much in theatre and literature. It is written in his trademark humorous style and with an audience that is clearly not an expert on the subject. And yet, his use of language is so strong that you can almost hear him speaking in your mind (or I can, at least). Oddly enough, my head makes the 57-year-old American sound like David Attenborough (the British naturalist responsible for such BBC specials as "The Living Planet"). Maybe I've been watching these shows too much recently.

Bottom line

I would recommend this book to anyone who is mildly curious about the man who gave us so many words, phrases and plays. It's also a must for those out there who, like me, have a special obsession about all things Shakespeare.
But don't stop there. I myself am moving on to "A Short History of Nearly Everything." I've actually already begun reading it and have laughed out loud several times (making me look like a crazy person to my roommates). And so begins a new obsession, with a man with arguably as much wit and command of language as his subject himself had.

"Every one has a wild side. Even a legend."

It started my Sophomore year in college. I stumbled across a class simply entitled 'The History of Film: 1900-1954.' In that class I found an obsession for most silent movies. I love them, to be honest. My favorites? Well if it isn't obvious by now, I suppose I'll have to smack you over the head with it: silent comedies! It's as if we lost something in translation when we introduced talkies. I'm not sure what it is, but now we rely way too much on the spoken word and not enough of the media worth a thousand words (pictures).
My favorite, all-time silent film comedian is of course the late, great Charlie Chaplin (pictured above). I've written several papers analyzing his work. More than that, though, is that whenever I'm down, I can always count on a good Chaplin short to cheer me up.

But let's be honest. The quality of the films is generally not the best. They are all over fifty years old, many more than that, so such a thing is to be expected. So, how do you get the beauty and simplicity of good old fashioned Chaplin, and yet the satisfication of watching something longer and meatier than 5 minutes? You watch a biopic, of course.

Ah, the biopic has jumped back into mainstream movie-making recently, though these new movies have focused more on the life and times of musical stars like Ray Charles (Ray) or Bob Dylan (I'm Not There). The biopic, Chaplin, left, that I recently stumbled upon is from 1992 and stars Robert Downey, Jr. (of Iron Man fame).

It was actually quite hard for me to picture the loud, obnoxious and arrogant Tony Stark in such a quiet role. And yet Downey somehow pulls it off perfectly, capturing both the ethereal hilarity of Chaplin's The Tramp and his off-putting obsession with the next cute, usually much younger, girl.

Boasting the tagline that is also the title of this post, Chaplin begins in black and white. You watch as The Tramp goes from being the doorway-framed sillohuette of the world-famous character (see movie poster below) to a man wiping his stage makeup off. In this opening scene the creators of the film offer you the knowledge that this is not a movie about The Tramp (his most famous character who many thought was the way Chaplin was in real life), but about Chaplin ... the man. What strikes me is how much like The Tramp Downey is in his portrayal throughout the film. It makes for a wonderful beginning to an interesting movie. And later, you see Downey as Chaplin the man, and its obvious why making this movie was so off-putting for his daugher (who starred as Chaplin's mother) at times.

For the rest of the film, told from the viewpoint of an elderly Chaplin working with his editor to nail down the final touches to his biography, the movie recalls Chaplin's life in his own words. With guest appearances from Anthony Hopkins (his editor), Kevin Kline (the comedian Douglas Fairbanks, who was Chaplin's best friend) and Geraldine Chaplin (Chaplin's real-life daughter who plays his mother in the film), the movie is actually a stark representation of how Chaplin became who he was. He, of course, is not without his problems, and yet the movie still holds his art to be the most important topic, as I believe obsessive-compulsive Chaplin would consider it to be.

My favorite scene: Chaplin's description of the birth of The Tramp.

Most poignant scene: His fight with his brother over why Chaplin must make "The Great Dictator."

Bottom line

From the opening scene to the final credits, it's a great movie. Watch it, if you can find it. If not, find some Chaplin movies to watch in the meantime. I recommend "The Gold Rush," "The Kid," "Modern Times," and (if you want to see him talking) "The Great Dictator."