Movie Notes -- Forgetting Sarah Marshall

When this flick was first advertised, I thought that it looked interesting. Then in the chaos of life, I forgot about it. Now I wish I could get it out of my head. Forgetting Sarah Marshall is as terrible as a movie can get. As one is a long list of romantic comedies, it is neither romantic nor funny.

The absurd plot involves Peter Bretter (played by Jason Segal) who takes a vacation in Hawaii after his girlfriend, Sarah Marshall (Kristen Bell), breaks up with him. Unfortunately, Sarah and her (sort of) new boyfriend, rock star Aldous Snow (Russell Brand) is not only in Hawaii, but also in pretty much every place Peter goes. Hotel clerk Rachel Jansen (Mila Kunis) helps Peter have a good time (even putting him in an expensive suite he cannot afford in a move that does nothing but advance the story) and the two become attracted to each other. Yip-freakin-ee.

In the first five minutes, viewers are treated to Jason Segal’s penis three times. First time was chuckle worthy. After that, it was just stupid. We get one more shot before the movie is over. Before one accuses me of being a prude, I could help but think that we don’t get to see any female parts (unless you count the picture of Mila Kunis topless, which I don’t because it is not real).

I suppose the intent here might be to make fun of the sex as love idea in movies, but what we get in the sex scenes is really some sort of comic porn. Well, maybe not so much because it isn’t really funny and nothing to get aroused by (unless the viewer is an adolescent). What we get is at best a silly story with lots of uncomfortable jokes about sex and Segal’s member on screen four times. The subplots involving the brother in law and the newlywed couple were more interesting, though they distracted from the overall story.

One of the bits of hype for this film is that it came from the producers of The 40 Year Old Virgin and Knocked Up. I haven’t yet seen the latter movie, but The 40 Year Old Virgin was hilarious and clever. Forgetting Sarah Marshall was just goofy. But now I can see why it garnered nominations for Teen Choice awards. In its few good moments, it is juvenile.

Music Notes--Petty Theft at The Harbor

On a hot July evening, as I sat at The Harbor in Rockwall, I came some realizations about the music of Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers. It has always seemed laid back, enjoyable in its way, but not really my thing. Something that is nice in tiny doses, but not for long periods of time. It occurred to me as I listened to the tribute band Petty Theft that I had never listened to Tom Petty for more than a few minutes at a time, probably during some kind of rock block on one of the local stations.

Not that Petty Theft couldn’t pull off a fine set. They managed to get through much of the better known tunes adequately, though they also left off a handful of notables like “You Got Lucky and “Breakdown.” People in the audience who were real fans of Tom Petty seemed to enjoy the performance. I noticed a few singing along even with tunes I had only heard a couple of times.They even spiced things up with a couple songs by the Byrds in the middle of the show.

There were a couple technical problems. Particularly in the beginning of the show, the vocals were not harmonized as tightly as one might hope with a group that’s been around as long as this one has. Also, I got the impression that they didn’t want the audience to hear any solos since when the time came for one – on both guitar and keyboards—it was either very low or couldn’t be heard.

If you are a fan of Tom Petty, these guys are probably worth checking out. They seem to get many gigs in the DFW metroplex. This was third year at The Harbor, and I suspect they’ll be back next year. But I may skip that show.

R.I.P. MJ

I have not been much of a fan of Michael Jackson since the 80s. I had a roommate my freshman year in college who played a couple of MJ albums and The Jacksons’ Live! quite often, and I was only tired of them when I wanted to sleep, which didn’t happen all that much. But around the time Jackson was making his best album, I started a years-long odyssey that including listening to no secular music (the two are not really related). Yet Jackson was so popular at the time, it was next to impossible to miss hearing songs like “Billie Jean,” “Beat It,” and “Bad.”

And today, I am torn about his passing. His music doesn’t have the same impact it had on me many years ago, but I cannot deny his talent or how well those songs still stand up. People make fun of Jackson’s music, but those who came after him are simply posers. He was weird as hell, and I’m pretty sure that most of the accusations about his unsavory dealings with children are true. However, he managed to be a sought out entertainer.

Jackson, perhaps unwittingly, managed to polarize people interested in the entertainment industry. While many are sure that he bought his way out of his molestation cases, there are plenty who are so devoted to Michael Jackson the icon they cannot conceive of his guilt, even in the face of strong evidence.

Though I loathe celebrity gossip, I find myself wanting to know more about Michael Jackson. I want to know the truth not only about what happened between he and those children, but also about why this guy felt the need to create a zoo/theme park of his home or the need to alter his body to such grotesque depths. And I must admit I’m interested in the odd events of his death (sounds like movie in the making).

But I’m pretty sure we won’t find out much about Jackson. At least for several years, I don’t expect us to learn anything useful. I do hope he’s at rest.

Movie Notes--Gran Torino

Watched the Clint Eastwood movie Gran Torino the other night and enjoyed it quite a bit. Eastwood plays Walt Kowalksi, an angry and racist vet of the Korean War who has just buried his wife. A Hmong family moves in next door and when the teenage boy tries to steal his beloved car, events are set in motion that transform Walt and the young boy Thao (played superbly by Bee Vang).


While I am not sure this movie is as strong overall as films like Unforgiven, Mystic River or his moving World War II pictures, it is really good. Eastwood’s performance is so fine, I don’t think anyone could imagine another actor in the role after seeing this. In addition, Ahney Her, as Thao’s sister is magnificent, nearly stealing the show from Eastwood. Eastwood’s attention to detail, particularly the elements of Hmong culture, make the movie all that more interesting without detracting from the narrative.


What makes the movie most interesting, I think, are Walt’s conflicts. He is, at first, a man who just wants people (including his grown children) to leave him alone. But we find that despite his racism, he can care about neighbors. Though Walt has no desire for the church or the priest that tries to harangue him into confession, he does find its value when the priest can think past his easy answers. Walt is proud of his service in the war, but admits that killing is a messy, terrible business.


The climax of Gran Torino surprised me a little, but in a very good way. I felt the last few minutes were a little slow, and perhaps a little cliché, but not so much they mar this otherwise really fine film. At 78, Eastwood is still a great actor and fantastic director who always produces top-notch work.

Music Notes -- Hanna's Reef at The Harbor

Jerry Diaz and Hanna’s Reef call what they do “Texas Beach Music.” So it was with some hope that I went to hear them play during Concert by the Lake series at The Harbor in Rockwall. While I found much of the evening enjoyable overall, there were a few disappointments.

Some of the problems, I can’t fault the band for. We arrived only a few minutes before the show, and so we sat far back, just over the hill. Not only could I not see the band unless I was standing, I think the sound from there was not as good for me as it might have been for those a little closer. This snag was aided by the fact that the steel drums did not seem to mix properly with the rest of the band through some of the set and that people around me seemed more interested in just hanging out and talking than listening to the music.

The group played credible, if sometimes plodding, versions of what were mostly Jimmy Buffet songs. Though the lead guitar seemed to disappear during my favorite Buffet tune, “Come Monday,” and some versions came off a bit slow, the starting tune, “Cheeseburger in Paradise,” came off well. And it was nice to listen to some Buffet songs I had not heard in a long time like “Pencil Thin Mustache” and “Son of a Son of a Sailor.”

After playing so much Jimmy Buffet, I had begun to believe Hanna’s Reef was a tribute band, they performed a nice version of “Under the Boardwalk” and an adequate rendition of “Montego Bay.” As one might expect, the crowd did enjoy “Five O’clock Somewhere.” Though on his website, Diaz lists four Beach Boys tunes in his repertoire, the only one they played was the awful “Kokomo.” Maybe it is just me, but that is certainly one of the worst songs recorded by a truly great band. It makes me queasy that so many cover bands feel they have to play it.

The group did do a fine job with a couple of original tunes, “Sail Away” and “Watch the Young Girls.” The latter song was spirited and lively. It ought to be a hit.

Most of the crowd in front of me (including people on boats in the lake) seemed to be having a pretty good time listening and drinking to Jerry Diaz and Hanna’s Reef. (This was especially true of an old fat lady sipping from a pink champagne glass and waving a plastic parrot). I’m a bit disappointed that “Texas Beach Music” seems to be more about boats and drinking than actual beaches, but the evening by Lake Ray Hubbard was mostly pleasant. Especially if you are a Parrothead, I recommend checking them out.

Look at me! I'm ranting!

When I was a teen and even more in college, I thought I didn’t care that much about what people thought of me. In reality, I wanted people to think I was different. That isn’t too much unlike most young people though they work hard at trying to pretend they are unique.

As an adult, I find myself keenly concerned about how others perceive me. Don’t get me wrong: I still want to buck the status quo and prove myself different from what people may expect. But I also am more and more aware of what those I work with and for may believe, accurate or not. Sadly, perception rules more than reality.

So I come to this day angry about a lot of things concerning the media. And I have to admit I must go on perception, but I think some of these people either don’t really care or are ignorant about the perception they give to others.

Last night, Artie Lange hijacked Joe Buck’s debut show. There is no other way to describe it. Already many people are making a big deal about his “course humor.” That isn’t what bothered me. I don’t particularly like his brand of shtick, but I am upset that Mr. Lange took so much of the time of the show. He didn’t allow Buck to go on to other subjects or allow either of the other guests in the segment, Paul Rudd and Jason Sudekis, to speak. Lange is a selfish prick who craves attention more than a horny dog. And the horny dog is more interesting to watch.

David Letterman has had to do a bunch of backpedaling over the ire stirred up over a couple jokes he made about the Palin family. While I’m not sure the comedian should have to apologize for what really would otherwise have been a largely forgotten and inconsequential joke, I do think he did the right thing last night in addressing this the way he did, saying that he realized that the perception was stronger than the reality of his intent. But those sponsors who have threatened to pull out and Palin really got this wrong. I wonder if Palin and her jerk husband really are that oversensitive, that stupid, or just need attention so bad they have to complain their way into the media spotlight. Hasn’t anyone told this broad that she is the one who has made her daughter’s lives worse with her own foolish mouth?

I certainly would not appreciate a joke of a sexual nature about my daughters. But Palin and her cult are so unable to read and hear that they actually assumed that Letterman meant them harm. They seemed to completely miss that the jokes were poking fun at others and not necessarily the Palins. (Well, except the slutty librarian joke, and I’m sorry Ms. Palin, you bring that on yourself.) And perhaps it is futile, in a business known for being more concerned with the moment, for Letterman to suggest that his detractors “check his record.” David Letterman has had crude jokes on his show before, but never something that would suggest sex with a fourteen year old, forced or otherwise, is acceptable.

The phrase “political correctness” makes me nervous. It has become a way for all sides of political and cultural spectrums to decry other people. But political correctness is not always about being safe, but avoiding unnecessary offense. Lange doesn’t give a damn who he insults or what he does to others. His fans who think this makes him worth praising only have half the picture. He isn’t “keeping it real” (a truly meaningless phrase). He is garnering attention for himself for no other reason than to have it. Letterman, on the other hand crosses some people’s idea of the line of good taste. But he knows that offending people just to be offensive doesn’t serve him or those who work for and with him very well.

Consider another word that has lost a great deal of its meaning in the past few years: rant. For many, when a person rants, that person is angry or upset about something and saying whatever comes to mind about whatever is creating in them emotional distress. They may say things “in the heat of the moment” that they would normally not say in an environment where they would have to be careful about their words, such as on the job or at a party with people one does not know well. They sometimes use “colorful language” and even friends can tell that the person may not be totally fair. Sometimes we need to let off steam, I’m sure, but that is what friends and close relatives are for. They understand us and help us gain perspective while trying to support us.

When I tell a student she or he is ranting in an essay, I am trying to let that person know something about how the audience is likely to perceive the message. While the opinions may have merit and the ideas well worth noting, the delivery is such that the student can only appear to others as someone, not with an opinion, but one who presents that opinion as if nothing else in the world matters, not even organization of thought or the choice of words that best communicate one’s ideas.

But the word now seems to denote that a person, by jabbering and working to be as offensive as possible, has done the world some sort of service in presenting an opinion. The truth is most of what others may praise by using the word “rant” is really only preaching to the choir, only louder.

Songs I love by bands I hate-#1: Jump

I don’t really hate Van Halen, but I do think they are among the most overrated rock groups of all time. Sure they are fun, and they have a handful interesting songs, but they really don’t deserve the status they have achieved. A reviewer once said that each new Van Halen album is really ten new ways to say “Let’s fuck.” I’ll go even further and say that the cult of Eddie Van Halen needs to remember he didn’t invent all the tricks he uses when playing; he’s just more fun to watch than those who did.

“Jump” has all the excess and goofiness bands in the eighties were guilty of: keyboards where guitars usually go, chords that replace skill with loud and effects, and a video that has features 80’s rock star hair and pretending that the white man’s overbite is cool. But this song about trying to pick up a girl (another tired rock cliché) is really infectious and I have to admit to loving that little keyboard solo (better than most of what Eddie Van Halen ever played on guitar).

Commercial Complaint #2 -- Just For Men

Okay, I know that there are men who cannot accept they are going bald or that they have managed to acquire gray hair. I understand that there is a large market for such people.

But what I cannot grasp is the portrayal of graying men as insecure, pathetic losers who cannot find love or even manage their lives without dyeing their hair some youthful color (which basically means not gray). In one awful commercial, two daughters lovingly tell their father “It’s time,” and “help” him improve himself by making him use the product. Then we see the guy with an attractive woman and the girls are satisfied they have fixed their father. Everyone is better off because the guy did what his children told him to.

Am I the only one who thinks this is wrong? I don’t like having gray hair myself, but it is a crazy world if we really believe that only young looking men are winners. Never mind the fact that hair itself has no bearing on things that matter, like parenting or being a husband.

So much is taught in today’s schools about tolerance. And that is good. But when the young cannot tolerate their aging parents based on hair color, I begin to doubt. Of course, it is the parents first who must teach that even Dad can be different from what society approves of and he is still worthwhile no matter what is on the top of his head.

There’s irony. I’d love for the father in this commercial to tell his kids they are shallow and demeaning. But I guess that wouldn’t sell anything—except reasonable values.

Music notes--State of Nature

Stanley Jordan has always defied categorization. He’s always been a jazz guitarist, but has covered rock tunes with aplomb. He has appealed to listeners in both genres, not only because of his keen and unique approach to playing, but simply because the tunes are fun to listen to.

State of Nature is Jordan’s first project in over ten years. What has he been doing in the meantime? Well, among other things, he has been studying music therapy. But don’t let that throw you. State of Nature is not a collection of new age tunes designed to make you feel good about yourself or become at one with the universe. On the other hand, if you can’t feel good listening to this, then perhaps you need therapy.

The project is mixed between Jordan’s original tunes and his renditions of classic pieces by Antonio Carlos Jobim, Horace Silver, Miles Davis, and even Mozart. All of these covers are handled well, and though from divergent traditions (even within jazz), they sound good together on this disc. I do think the Mozart piece would have been a better choice to close the album than Joe Jackson’s “Steppin’ Out.” I’m particularly fond of “Song for My Father” and “All Blues.”

“A Place in Space” opens the disc with a nice groove. Other originals worth noting are “Forest Garden,” “Ocean Breeze,” “Healing Waves” and “Shadow Dance.” The latter song is one of those tunes Jordan does very well: starting off pensive and slow and building to furious crescendo, much like his signature cover of “Stairway to Heaven.” Songs like “Healing Waves” and Forest Garden” might be a little mellow for some tastes, especially with the inclusion of environmental sounds, but I found them to be well played testaments to what Jordan has immersed himself in as fans have waited for new material.

The album also features Jordan on piano. One should not expect the same prowess he displays on the guitar, but he does accompany himself quite well here.

State of Nature is first class jazz, though it does stretch the boundaries a bit. Was it worth a ten year wait? I can’t say. But it seems Jordan’s hiatus has resulted in not only enjoyable, but thoughtful music. I can’t complain about that.

Bookmarks--The Shack

Considering the subject matter, some may find that The Shack contains very little drama. Well, that is if you are looking for the sort of excitement one finds in crime stories or adventure movies where the focus is on catching the bad guy. But this novel has plenty to keep the reader interested.

The story centers on Mackenzie Phillips (Mack), a father who loses his daughter to a serial killer. After a couple years of what is termed “The Great Sadness,” Mack is called to the place where the murder took place to meet with God. Here he may not get the answers he wants, but he does find many of the answers he needs.

I’m sure that plenty of readers will be put off by God the Father as a Black woman, Jesus looking more like a yogi than a guy sitting on the side of a mountain, and the Holy Spirit as an ethereal sprite. But Young manages to handle these images deftly without, it appears, violating the basic orthodoxy of Christianity. (Not that one must be Christian or even religious to appreciate the story.) And there will be readers who are challenged by the theology in this book. However, while certainly outside what many expect from books on religious subjects, The Shack does not really go against the important ideas of religion. In fact, I’d go so far to say that those who get hung up on such things are likely to miss the value of this novel.

As noted, the book is more about Mack’s reconciliation with God, his family, and himself—a reconciliation he doesn’t even fully realize he needs. It is about facing not only one of the most difficult trials a parent could ever endure, but also about dealing with the problems that keep most of us from real peace and joy, no matter what real life problems plague us.

I expected a book that would too easily dismiss the real ache and anger behind such events. I expected some sort of Touched by an Angel crap that would certainly turn me off from religion. But The Shack is not that book, Thank God. There are places where, in my opinion, the prose needs sharpening, and parts of the tale that are not completely clear for me. But these are minor problems.


On the front of my copy is a quote from Eugene Peterson that states The Shack “has the potential to do for our generation what John Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress did for his.” I’m not so sure about that. But I do think it is a good novel well worth reading whether or not one shares Young’s vision.

Bookmarks--This Year You Write Your Novel

I rarely have use for magazines that are supposed to be for writers where fairly young authors tell you, as if they have been writing and publishing for decades, some kernel of wisdom about that one thing your story or novel or poem supposedly needs to be publishable or at least so wonderful that no one would dare reject it. And books on writing are sometimes so self-indulgent and thoughtless, I wonder how these people sometimes made it out of Advanced Composition.

But Walter Mosley’s slim little book promises what it delivers. Following his clear, simple advice, one could actually compose a short novel and significantly revise the draft within a year. And this doesn’t come from a guy you haven’t heard of who just happened to get a book in print a couple years ago. This is from the mind of one of America’s best selling and most respected authors.

Mosley's main advice is to write every day. Simple? Yes, and no. A writer writes, I'm told, but so much of what Mosley talks about here is just why it is necessary to carve out that time, and not use other things (like research) as excuses to put off writing. Mosley also provides practical ideas on how to accomplish revision, an integral and oft neglected part of all writing. In addition, This Year You Write Your Novel gives some good pointers on another habitually ignored part of the writing process: reading. I particularly liked what he had to say about the value of reading poetry and the pitfalls of the writer’s group.

This Year You Write Your Novel is a book that should be on the bookshelf of every beginning novelist, but is well worth the purchase for some who have been writing a while. In fact, because it contains ideas concerning writing of all kinds, if I taught Advanced Composition, I’d probably assign the book in that class as well.

Music notes--Piety Street

I am one of the few people, I presume, who heard That’s What I Say, John Scofield’s tribute to Ray Charles, and got tired of it quickly. The playing was fine and the songs were good, but I guess I had not warmed up to singing along with Scofield’s fun and fuzzy guitar. But his latest project, Piety Street, may have me changing my mind.

In Piety Street, Scofield explores both blues and gospel. I already knew that he could play a mean blues guitar, and he certainly does not disappoint here, though some may feel the sound is a bit subdued. I happen to like this subdued sound. Piano and keyboard player Jon Cleary and John Boutte take on the vocals here and really shine. These tunes won’t make the listener feel likes she or he has been in church, but the spirit is definitely not missing here. Like Scofield’s guitar, these tunes are gritty and sweet at the same time.

I hope I can catch John Scofield as he tours with this material. I suspect it will sound terrific with the rest of his set, distinctive as this disc is.

Bookmarks--Cesar's Way

Before I get to why I recommend Cesar’s Way, let me get out of the way a couple things that bothered me about it. First, it didn’t take long for me to get tired of all the name dropping. I didn’t care much when Cesar Millan was talking about his work with Oprah’s or Will Smith and Jada Pinkett Smith’s dogs the first time. Doing so over and over about made me crazy.

Second, it seems that Millan didn’t know what kind of book he wanted to write. A friend recommended the book to me to help me with my own dog. There are parts that are certainly “self-help” or instructional. But parts of the book are memoir. These sections are interesting in their own right, but a few shorter stories to illustrate his points (without the aforementioned narratives about animals belonging to celebrities) would have been more effective I believe. When Millan wants to write a real memoir, I might read that too.

But as I made my way through this book, I did find I looked at my own relationship with my dog differently, and I suspect this is the main purpose of Cesar’s Way. I could see not only why it is important to walk a dog every day, but how to do so. I did gather insight into the behavior of my pet (and some people). Cleo (our dog) doesn’t get walked for an hour a day, as Millan suggests, but she gets a lot more than she did before, and I like being around her much more.

Readers might also find interesting what Cesar Millan has to say about “bad” dogs. I was particularly encouraged that habits that make some dogs seem mean or just plain stupid could be changed with the right attention and work.

Since reading Cesar’s Way months ago, I have also noticed how woefully ignorant most people are about the animals they make blithe commitments to. People who grew up around dogs, like me, often make some rather damaging assumptions that are addressed in this book. Don’t get me wrong. Millan (with help from Melissa Jo Peltier) writes about the obligation sometimes as if it is marriage, as if most of one’s waking hours should be devoted to the animal. That’s a bit strong for me. However, he has convinced me that dogs one takes into one’s home should play a greater role than barking at strangers and languishing in the backyard until the owner feels like playing. And if readers use half of what Millan suggests, they will find themselves in the midst of a very rewarding relationship.

Bookmarks--The Stupid Crook Book

The Stupid Crook Book, by Leland Gregory, is one of those perfect bathroom books. Each page contains one or two very short anecdotes. It is easy to read and certainly entertaining, in its own way. One does run the risk of having others wonder what is going on they pass by your reading room and hear your guffaws. But the bathroom is no place to seek enlightenment, so what do they expect?

Most of the stories in this collection are pretty darn funny. And there are plenty of good tales to tell, considering that most criminals are not that smart to begin with (and Americans really do enjoy laughing at other people’s idiocy). Having listened to and read bad stories by students who try to explain why they deserve a good grade when they never come to class or why they just had to plagiarize their papers, I admit to a smug satisfaction that not everyone with the same mindset is running the country, but that most trip themselves up, making the jobs of overworked police detectives that much easier.

But I do think there are a couple of problems with this book. Perhaps they fall under the pet peeves category, so take these criticisms for what they are worth. The lesser difficulty I have with The Stupid Crook Book concerns the many, many bad puns that seem to end most of the stories. A few is okay, but many were a stretch and the sheer number should make one groan.

The most significant flaw in this little volume is that not every story is about a person who is actually stupid, unless “stupid” is part of your general definition of criminal. In some cases, the criminal hasn’t done something idiotic, but has really had circumstances go against them (perhaps it is bad karma). Some of the stories are more about the odd things that criminals try to steal than about brainlessness that gets them caught. I’m not saying we should have sympathy for burglars who are having a bad day or robbers stealing a toilet or popsicles. However, with so many bad criminals in the world, why throw in narratives about what many would really call bad luck? (By the way, are criminals “smart” when they get away with their crimes? Where is the stupid police book?)

I’m sure my issues with The Stupid Crook Book won’t bother the average reader. As I mentioned, the book is, overall, pleasurable, even if that pleasure comes from thinking the reader is certainly not as dumb as the moronic and unsuccessful felons Mr. Gregory writes about.

Swine Flu Panic?

Just one question: If the powers that be don't want us to panic, then why have so many school districts and event planners cancelled so much, particular at this end of the year rush?

Governer Goodhair gets on television and tells us everything is okay, but then asks for federal dollars to help with the Swine Flu Epidemic. This is the same governor who refused stimulus money that could help Texas, and threatened to secede from the country in a wonderous political move meant only to further polarize the country.

Back to the issue at hand. I didn't worry when a couple of schools, trying to play better safe than sorry, closed. But I got concerned when Ft. Worth, a large school district, closed. Texas and Alabama stopped UIL events, and know I have concerned parents for my soccer team wondering if it is safe for their kids to play.

I don't want to be over cautious. But I don't want to expose my kids to danger. I really don't appreciate the mixed messages.

How about a new three strikes rule?

I’ve been asked a few times if I will start watching the NFL now that Mr. Owens has been removed from the Cowboys. I remind those people that had my problem been only with the Cowboys, then I would have found a new team to cheer for. But my complaint is not just with the Dallas team, but the league itself. I find it incomprehensible that an entire league continues to sanction the behavior of people like Owens, who are not just “selfish,” but who tear down entire franchises and who have changed the face of football much for the worse. Professional football is less a competition centered on moving an oval up and down a large grassy patch as it is a reality show where the most outrageous personalities not only get the most attention but the get paid millions of dollars for their antics.

Sports has always had its self-centered players. And one might say that the position of wide receiver seems to be an inherently selfish one. At least it is a position where the player seems less likely to see the whole of the game. I once heard Troy Aikman comment that Michael Irvin always thought he was open. In Irvin’s case, as with those before him, it may have been as much confidence in his ability to catch the ball in traffic or over a defensive back that prompted such talk. But Owens is not just a guy who thinks he is open when he is not. He seems unable to see that he is not the center of the universe. Remember last season when over half the offensive plays directly involved him, and he still publically complained that he didn’t get the ball enough? Sadly there are too many people like him in football

For all the good that Roger Goodell has done to improve the image of the National Football League, I’m not sure I’ll be satisfied until there is a three strikes policy for athletes like Mr. Owens. This person has had an opportunity to succeed for three teams. Each franchise (not just the team) is worse off for his having been there. Each team worried too much about how “T.O.” would react to this or that. Each team ran itself darn near into the ground by wrapping decisions, on and off the field, around his warped and destructive personality.

I predicted after Philadelphia lost the Super Bowl that Owens would never have a Super Bowl ring. And his relegation to Buffalo is likely to help prove my point. Sure, he will make some great catches. He’ll generate some excitement for a franchise stuck in the nether world. But he is likely to do little more than wreak havoc.

Owens has had his chances. Already too many of them. We have policies concerning athletes who take drugs because, among other reasons, they knowingly bring harm to themselves and to the teams that invest in them. Owens is a drug. Feels good at first, despite being a little scary. But look down the road, and you see nothing but waste. It is time for the NFL to get out while it can.

A note about the A-Rod thing

Just wanted to say that I'd like to see just how many players on the sorry Rangers were juicing when Rodriguez the bust was. Perhaps the message to young people then would be that all the effort to do something illegal doesn't always pay off. It sure as heck didn't help the Rangers.

I don't have too much sympathy for those who were caught, but I do find it odd that Rodriguez was singled out. Not much sympathy for him because he 1) is supposed to be one of the best players in baseball, and 2) was a lackadaisical player when collecting his check with the Rangers. But the agreement was that the results would be secret, and my pomposity aside, I know I'd be more than a little pissed if I found myself in a similar situation at work.

Imagine you have been doing something illegal at work, something the may or may not make you better at your job, but is certainly immoral. You agree to some sort of survey --or possibly a lie detector test--where that illegal activity is discovered, but you have been promised anonymity. You have long ceased doing what you knew was wrong. Now someone outs you, not to make the company better, but for the sheer self-righteousness of letting others know you cheated once.

Maybe I do have a little sympathy.

What often angers me about professional athletes is that if the average person did what they often do, she or he would be unemployed, and yet the athlete is often given notoriety and attention (I'm looking at you Mr. Owens). But in turning this situation around, we see that sports is often not about the great accomplishment, but about a continuing saga in a soap opera.

Max Vader

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NFL notes

Of course, I am not officially watching football. However...

I am glad that Manning 1 (Peyton) was beaten yesterday. I look forward to knowing that Manning 2 (Eli) will also be watching the Super Bowl from home.

I can't believe I'm saying this, but I am also glad that Eagles won. Hope Mr. Owens enjoyed that one too.

I won't be surprised if Mr. Jones' temper and pride gets the better of him and he hires Shanahan. It would be just like him to get someone that players can walk all over and then fire him later when the team doesn't win.

Speaking of which, I am sorry the Dolphins lost yesterday. Except for them having a nut like Ricky Williams, I wouldn't mind seeing them succeed with Parcells, who is apparently staying.

Movie notes-Gumby Dharma

Last night I watched a documentary called Gumby Dharma about Art Clokey, the man who created Gumby and Davey and Goliath. The film has received an Emmy award and has played on the Sundance Channel.

Among the more interesting features of the movie are the “interviews” with Gumby, Pokey, and other characters created by Clokey. We certainly see a lot about the creation and evolution of Gumby and Clokey’s development of stop motion animation, but it is Timothy Hittle’s own animation of these characters recounting stories of their association with Clokey is most arresting. Some viewers might be put off by Gumby’s discussion of the depression Clokey endured after his daughter’s suicide, and others may not feel comfortable with Clokey himself discussing the way he left his family or his anger when he found out that he was not properly credited for Davey and Goliath. One might get the impression that Clokey could not tell the difference between childlike and childish. However, the movie shouldn’t be comfortable for everyone just because memories of these shows make us feel good.

The movie does mention other projects in Clokey’s oeuvre. We see how he made Gumbasia, the short that got him his big break. Probably the most interesting material might be about the making of Mandala. He made this film with the help of his family, and seems to incorporate much of Clokey’s spiritual vision at that time.

I would have liked more in this movie about Davey and Goliath, but that is probably because I have the strongest emotional connection to this series. I watched these episodes as often as I could as a child, and they made a huge impact on me. I did notice that the timeline on the “official” website for this program barely mentions Clokey. Sad. Apparently there is a documentary about the series, however, that includes interviews with him.

Gumby Dharma was directed by the late Robina Marchesi. This film was, according to the website, her first full length documentary. At the time of this writing, I could find very little information about her, but I am sad that her life was over before she could make more movies.

Gumby Dharma isn’t always pretty, even if Clokey seems to want at times to quickly pass over some of the events of his life. And I suppose that the movie doesn’t quite end as I would have wanted. But the film is not so much about the characters Clokey created, but the character he has made of himself. It is the story of a spiritual journey, one that does not gloss over the suffering and folly that is a significant part of such a trip.

Mike Leach on 60 Minutes

Watched this last night, and found it interesting. Thought I'd share it.


Watch CBS Videos Online
I don't watch much college football. It is semi-professional sports, and the athletes are connected to their institions by name only. Education is far removed from the athletic departments at most universities.

Mike Leach is one of the few people who make college sports worth watching as far as I'm concerned. I hope he wins a national title and then tells the NFL to kiss his rear when they come begging.

Commercial complaint #1: Jared

The elections long over, we have since been inundated with commercials advertising all those things we just have to have (or worse, have to buy for someone else) in order to live happy, fulfilled lives. But it is time for us to protest, especially in this economy, commercials that are worse and more dangerous than even the lies politicians spend millions spreading. I start with those for Jared the Galleria of Jewelry.

The Jared commercials hinge on one phrase: “He went to Jared’s.” This is repeated until it is rolling around in your head like a song your teenage daughter plays so loud, her bedroom door cannot stop it. And like such a song, you can’t avoid it or its message.

I wouldn’t mind these commercials so much if they operated on that time honored bit of fallacious reasoning so often used commercials: that the brand or store or item is so high class, and everyone should want it. That faulty reasoning is bad enough, but easy to see through.

No. These commercials all have a woman saying the line as if Jared’s is only place a man better go to make the love of his life happy. If a man gets any other present at any other place, then he is a terrible husband/boyfriend/father. Nay, he is an awful human being and deserves nothing but scorn.

Many of these commercials feature some oaf of a man who presumably has not gone to Jared's. Now this man’s wife will not speak to him. His girlfriend looks at him as she has just caught him molesting children. The man usually looks sheepish and foolish, as if one could not expect anything from him but a combination of ignorance and evil.

Commercials for this store have grated on my nerves a long time. When I first saw them, I told myself that if I was ever rich enough to buy my wife a lot of jewelry, I’d never go into a store with that sort of commercial. Now I believe these spots are irresponsible in this economy. This year, Christmas buying was down quite a bit, as people have to think about feeding their families and purchasing medication and making their house payments, instead of buying cars and jewelry and high end toys.

But no matter what the economy is like, I wish no one would buy products from such a place that continues the metaphorical castration of the American male.

Music notes--Keith Jarrett at the Blue Note

I think the moment I realized I was into serious jazz was when I was in my car listening to a tape I’d found in a bargain bin from The Keith Jarrett Trio and heard their 26 plus minute version of “Autumn Leaves.” Every note of that song sounded right, and I think I knew then that this music separated the faux jazz from the real thing. While some could play for three minutes and still have a song that should be two and half minutes shorter, the good stuff was worth each moment spent listening.

Lately, I’ve been listening to the box set that this tune came from: Keith Jarrett at the Blue Note: The Complete Recordings. These sessions with Jarrett’s “Standards” trio were recorded in 1994 and are an amazing achievement. Jarrett is, of course, in fine form, but his band mates, Gary Peacock on bass and Jack DeJohnette on drums, play tasty licks that made me, as a newbie to jazz, pay better attention to the music I listened to afterwards.

Most box sets are too expensive for me, particularly when I realize that with many, I listen a few times and then they sit for years at a time. Sometimes I pass a box set by because I may already have most of the songs on other album, and can get the extra tracks digitally. But this is a project that holds up no matter how often I listen. It sounds as fresh as exciting as the first time I heard that sweet intro to “Autumn Leaves.”

As well as Jarrett’s trademark solos (and yes, a bit of the excited utterances), one finds some of the most enjoyable and interesting interpretations of jazz classics like “Days of Wine and Roses,” “How Long Has This Been Going On,” “On Green Dolphin Street,” “Straight, No Chaser,” and “I Fall in Love Too Easily.” There are also some fine Jarrett originals, such as “No Lonely Nights” and the irrepressible “Bop-Be.” This project is testament of all that is good about jazz and all that is good in music.

Music notes--Somewhere Before

Maybe it is just me and the holiday season, but the cd Somewhere Before reminds me of the Vince Guaraldi Trio. I have enjoyed it, but there is that feel.

What is fun about the disc is the forays into ragtime and blues that Jarrett would later meld into his interesting and unique style. On “Moving Soon,” one gets a taste of the “free” improvisation that, again, Jarrett would later perfect, but here is a bit raw. However, we do get the fine work of two of the greats in the jazz: Charlie Haden (bass) and Paul Motian (drums). Though this isn’t the best work I have heard out of Jarrett, it is a nice addition for the collector, and does show some of the promise to come.

Along with this disc, I found four tunes from a package called The Dylan Concert, I assume because there are covers of “My Back Pages” and “Lay Lady Lay.” “My Back Pages is also on Somewhere Before. Both discs are live albums. A couple of the reviews I read of these discs were not too kind concerning the covers, but I did enjoy both versions of “My Back Pages.” The latter disc does contain a “free” piece with Jarrett on the saxophone, a bit of treat for me, but something that is not likely to win over the casual fan.

Publication Notes--December 2008

I haven't submitted a lot lately. With eight classes and a full family schedule, it has been hard to stick this year to my resolution of sending something out at least once a week. But that doesn't mean that the rejections have stopped. I even got one for a batch of poems I sent out two and a half years ago!

It is also strange that most of the recent publications have been with work I wrote some time ago. Electric Velocipede recently published my story "Partita for continuo". Click here for an excerpt. I'm fairly sure I wrote this piece when I was in graduate school.

And I realized how busy I've been when I discovered that another story, "Down at the Twenty-five," had been featured in the December 1 issue of Fiction at Work. I wrote this story some time in the years between graduation from college and the return to graduate school.

I honestly don't remember when I wrote "Three Short Lake Poems," but one of the parts (poems?) did find a home at Pond Ripples Magazine in the November issue. You do have to scroll down a ways to get to it, but I hope it is worth the trouble.

Here's hoping that despite the holidays and the Winter class, I'll be able to get back to writing everyday and sending more work out.

Sean Avery and NHL hypocrisy

Just read an article on Yahoo Sports about the Sean Avery thing, and I have to agree that it is hypocritical of the Stars and the NHL to can Avery for his remarks but let Bertuzzi continue to play instead of being forced to clean Steve Moore's house for the rest of his life.

Avery was crude, and I know he has a history of stupid stuff. But Bertuzzi ended a man's career and nearly ended his life. Bertuzzi also has a history—of unnecessary violence. Avery hurt his team and I suppose made the league look bad. Bertuzzi did not even finish the punishment handed down by the league. Some say what Bertuzzi did was just part of hockey. Not really. There are clear lines and Bertuzzi crossed them. The lines for free speech Avery crossed concern taste and appropriateness.

I’m sure Avery will go to rehab and get back on another team—next year. But this still seems more than a little unfair. Bettman has only proven he can pull in accomplices to his continued foolishness. It is clear Bettman was just waiting for Avery to do something he could punish him for. The Stars, I’m trying to believe, had to do something their wayward player’s actions. But they have let me down, not only on the ice, but in this matter as well.

Elfing My Children

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BCS Crap!

Every year the powers that be in semi-pro sports, otherwise known as College Football in the Fall, prove more and more to me that the BCS is a load of crap designed only to keep a handful of good old boys at work living with little fantasies.

This time we get to add to silly rules that actually use the BCS rankings to determine who wins a division. Isn't this circular reasoning? In the Big 12, we have people not involved in the games, instead of the games themselves, deciding who wins a division.

You cannot convince me that the system would ever have been fair to Texas Tech. In this system, as I get told often, it is when a team loses that matters. That seems to be why Oklahoma goes to the Big 12 title game despite losing to Texas. But it doesn't matter at all for Texas Tech. Consider that both Texas and Oklahoma have a shot with one loss, but the only way Texas Tech would have been able to go to the Big 12 title game and eventually to the National Championship would be for them to go undefeated.

All season I hear about undefeated teams getting the shot, but when certain teams lose, if they lose at the right time, they get a chance. Most other teams lose once, and they are out. And under the current system, Texas Tech cannot even go to a major bowl with their ONE LOSS.

Horse crap! Well, maybe not. Horse crap smells better than this system does.

Publication notes

My story "A Little Accident" is the featured free story this week at Sniplits. I am also the featured author, so please log on, get yourself a story to listen to (feel free to buy my other story there if you are so inclined) and check out my fan page.

My poem "Father Lied" has just been published in the Freckles to Wrinkles. It looks like a fine little book, a nice gift for someone special.

Have been working on a new project, so I haven't sent out as much this month. Consequently, this is about all the news there is.

Bookmarks-Witness

Karen Hesse’s Witness is an important achievement in literature for adolescents. Not only is the book told through a variety of voices of the characters in this novel, but each "chapter" is a poem told from the point of view of one of those characters. Hesse dares not only to give readers words and thoughts of those that might draw obvious sympathy, a Jewish girl who has lost her mother and the Black girl who helps her (and others), but also the villains of the story and those characters in between.
Each poem/chapter demonstrates a masterful sense of voice. The diction and word choices are exactly what one would expect from the character meant to be speaking. As individual poems, these work just fine as well. I was, at first, a bit put off by the rather prosaic expressions of some of the characters (particularly the newspaper editor), but as the book went along, I realized that these people would speak exactly this way. The use of verse allows the reader not only to hear what the characters would say in dialogue, but also to "hear" their inner dialogues.
The story traces an attempt by the Ku Klux Klan to gain influence in a small town. Here we see the price of such alliances, a different price paid by each of those who participate. We also see the price and the reward of standing firm against them. Readers also see not only the interactions of the characters, but how the relationships develop as the story unfolds. I’m sure most readers will find the friendship between Leanora Sutter and little Esther Hirsh to be touching. But I found myself also moved by Leanora’s relationship with Mr. Field. He is an elderly man in failing health and a little crotchety, but well represents that old does not mean forgetful of his shared humanity with the twelve year old Black girl who has given her time to care for him.
Perhaps many readers will not find Witness as emotionally powerful as other books for adolescents that cover the same period of history or the same general themes. However, I believe this novel should stand on the shelves with them. Actually, it should not stand on the shelf, but be read and studied enthusiastically. (A teacher’s edition is available.)

Bookmarks: Fear Itself

Fear Itself is the second in Walter Mosely's Fearless Jones series. I wish I had read the first book first and I wish I had read this book faster. This book does not have gaps I suspect only the first novel would have cleared up, but there are a number of characters here and I found myself a bit lost trying to remember them all. But that may not be a fault of the novel, but the fact that I had to read it in fits and starts.

The narrative is presented by Paris Minton, friend of Fearless Jones, a man who is both willing to help out a damsel in distress and kill in cold blood those who get in his way. Paris is a humble bookworm trying to stay out of trouble and quietly run his bookstore. The plot centers on family secrets and a one of a kind book Paris would love to have for himself. Along the way a number of people are killed and Paris comes pretty close, a fact that may get in the way of his friendship with Fearless.


As I mentioned, I should have set this book aside and read it as close to straight through as I could. But once I got the hang of who was who, I found myself entralled by the story, but also with the narrator. Paris is a relunctant hero, made braver only because of his friend, but one who also struggles with his desires and what he knows is the right thing to do. Mosely had drawn a character somewhat like Fearless in the person of Mouse (from the Easy Rawlins series), but Paris is different from Easy Rawlins. Both may well want to stay out of trouble and lead their own quiet lives, but Paris is even more withdrawn and bookish. I found myself relating to him more and more.

I probably would have read the first in this series had my local library carried it, but this does okay on its own. I look forward to reading more about these finely drawn characters.

Bookmarks-Jazz: The 1980s Resurgence

I found Stuart Nicholson's Jazz: The 1980s Resurgence in a used cd shop while looking for the reissue of Metheny and Coleman's Song X (I remember because the printout of information is still in my copy). This book took me two years to read, not because it is bad, but because it is not the sort of book one just sits down and runs through. Part history, part bibliography, part commentary, Jazz: The 1980s Resurgence is a valuable resource, not only about modern jazz, but music in general. I have often joked that the 80s was where music went to die, but Stuart Nicholson's book makes the case, particularly in the opening chapters, that jazz was on the way back. The "return" of jazz was not so much to public awareness (as it very much needs to be), but to a quality and freshness it had enjoyed previously.

Nicholson's book begins with some historical perspective, providing the reader with a sense of what was going on in jazz prior to the 80s. Then he manages to discuss not only the major players in sub-categories, such as hard-bop, free jazz, fusion, and "neo" jazz, but also comments on important and influential musicians that a number of readers have not heard of.

I do think Nicholson is a bit harsh on Wynton Marsalis, but his argument is well reasoned, and is certainly not a rant. I do wish there was more information about some other artists I was interested in, but this book isn't intended to be a compiliation of biographies and discographies. Another, perhaps minor problem, is that the book seemed to have more its fair share of typographical errors. Most books have little flaws that no one notices, and this book is quite readable (Nicholson's prose style is good), but there were certainly enough little errors to catch my attention. This isn't, of course, Nicholson's fault, but Da Capo Press might have invested more energy in catching such problems. It does not detract from the value of the book itself. My copy is a first edition, so perhaps subsequent versions are corrected.

My favorite chapters are those on free jazz and fusion, the first because I felt more informed about a sub-genre I have always been intrigued and mystified by (not that I understand it any better), and the latter because I did find more information about the artists that pretty much brought me to jazz in the first place. Many have maligned the fusion movement, and a handful have praised the top artists too much. But Nicholson manages to keep everything in perspective.

All in all, Jazz: The 1980s Resurgence is a useful and informative book, particularly for those whose love of jazz carries beyond merely putting on a cd as background noise. Those who want to learn about this significant chapter of the world's greatest music should definitely do what they can to find it.

Bookmarks/Film Notes--No Country For Old Men

I had purchased the movie No Country For Old Men on pay per view, and recorded it on my DVR, but waited to watch it until I had read the book. I managed to finish Cormac McCarthy’s novel and watch the film in the same day. Like a number of people I am confused by the material near the end of the book (and the movie didn’t clear it up for me). But I did find the story riveting.

No Country For Old Men is about promises. Not just keeping one’s promises, but the promises one is forced to make in life that cannot be kept and the codes of life that conflict with society and with the codes of other men. McCarthy’s delivery of dialogue takes some getting used to, but is well worth the investment. I found myself intrigued by all the characters. Ed Tom Bell is the wise sheriff trying to save Llewelyn Moss, an ex-sniper turned welder who has stumbled upon two million dollars and who believes he’s smart enough to find a way to keep it. Anton Chigurh is a man whose cold inventiveness would be admirable if he wasn’t a psychopath with an odd code that requires him to not only destroy those who are in his path, but also people who are only tangentially related to his purpose. (And that purpose is not merely, it seems, to recover the money.)

Violence seems to be part and parcel in McCarthy’s world, but not egregiously so, and while the film is bloody in spots, one should notice that the Coen Brothers’ direction is, as usual, spot on, not always showing the gore of violence, but never diminishing its impact. Readers will find that the movie does not deviate from the book too much (though doing so is rarely a problem for me). Tommy Lee Jones (Bell), Javier Bardem (Chigurh), and Josh Brolin (Moss) provide excellent performances. Bardem is particularly chilling as a killer on a mission.

As noted above, the endings of both the novel and the film are a bit confusing, but I am still recommending both. Read McCarthy’s book first, then see the movie. Knowing what happens certainly won’t keep you from watching intently.

Publication Notes -- June 2007

"Peniel" (a poem) has been published at Farrago's Wainscot. In addition to actually getting paid, and finding a home for this piece (written several years ago), I get my work alongside Bryan Dietrich, a terrific poet I met in graduate school. I very much recommend his writing.

"Father Lied" (poem) has been accepted by Silver Boomers Anthology. The book will be Freckles to Wrinkles. Don't know just when this will come out.

"Partito for Continuo" (short story), which was accepted some time ago, should soon see the light of day in Electric Velocipede.

My chapbook Construction was recently rejected. I sent a different chapbook to the Burnside Review contest last week.

I've been a bit disappointed at the slow sales of my stories at Sniplits. One of many signs I've been reading lately about my writing career.

Gathered rejections recently from Poetry, Strong Verse, and Shakespeare's Monkey Review. Strong Verse took less than twenty-four hours to reject four poems, though the editor did have something kind to say about one of them.

School starts next week (well, the Summer II session), so I am hoping I will be able to get in the habit of submitting something everyday until then, and to make at least one submission a week while school is in session. Have been writing, working on a project of linked stories, and have managed to get about 500 words each that I do work. I'll take that as good news.

Bookmarks--Even the Wicked

I suppose that if the protagonist catches three different murderers that I should be excited. Lawrence Block is not writing poorly here and the novel does have some fine, interesting moments, but for some reason, I did not find this as much of a page turner as most of his novels. I suppose that could be that I have read it out of sequence.
Scudder is doing okay. He doesn’t need to take every case that comes his way. His sidekick/friend TJ is bugging him to buy a computer. A friend who believes he is the target of a serial killer who calls himself Will of the People hires Scudder. And he takes on the seemingly random murder of an acquaintance that was already dying of AIDS. There is definitely stuff going on here to keep the reader interested.
I did learn about viatical transactions and was never bored with this tale. However, it would not quite as engaging as most of Block’s novels. Recently Block was on Craig Ferguson plugging Hit and Run. Ferguson asked why there haven’t been any Scudder novels for a few years (three to be exact). Block told him that Scudder was too settled and old. He rather felt that way in this book (though it was published in 1997), but as I said, reading it out of order may have produced that effect on me.

Music notes--Tokyo Day Trip EP

I can't remember Pat Metheny ever releasing an EP, and this selection of "bonus" tracks tells me he should do it more often. "Traveling Fast" and "The Night Becomes You" sound like most of the strongest material on Day Trip, itself a fine album, but the other three songs are also very enjoyable. On "Tromso," Metheny plays some engaging lines on the guitar, melding different sounds nicely as he has done on his group recordings (but this is not a PMG throwaway). "Inori" is another slow tune where all of Metheny's bandmates contribute delicious sonic texture. "Back Arm & Backcharge" is the jamminest track here. The groove goes in and out, but is dug in deep. I envy those in Japan who got to see this performed live.

Because some of these tunes are a bit different from the Day Trip sessions, one might be scared away, but you shouldn't be. These aren't experiments gone awry, but an extension of what I hope continues to be a long working trio. The disc alternates between mellow and up tempo songs, but the collection holds together on its own. Here's hoping we see more!

Bookmarks--The Man In My Basement

The Man in My Basement by Walter Mosely is a gratifying stand alone novel by the writer who has given us Easy Rawlins, Fearless Jones, and Socrates Fortlow. Charles Blakey is a depressed, self-destructive black man living in his family house. He’s lost his job and can’t get another. He is about to lose his house. He has lost his girlfriend and before the second chapter is out, he is close to losing one of his best friends. But a stranger comes knocking, one that can make at least his financial life better, simply for allowing him to live in Blakey’s basement.

This tale, of course, is not just about the secrets of the odd white man, who has asked to be jailed on Blakey’s properly. It is about the secrets that drive Charles’ own behavior and about redeeming oneself. The arrangement sets in motion soul searching on the part of one as a result of the soul searching on the part of the other.

The Man In My Basement about the redemption that only comes about when one allows others in. Blakey is the sort of lonely soul many can relate to and his transformation is more than credible. I was interested not only how the ghosts of his past, particularly his uncle, had shaped him, but how Blakey’s ancestors stood with him whether he wanted them there or not. The novel stands up quite well in Mosley’s already substantial canon.

Bookmarks for May 2008

Time's Arrow by Martin Amis. Of course, a story told backwards is going to be confusing, at least a little, and for awhile I read just wondering if what seemed to be a clever gimmick was going to pay off. I think it does, but I'm not entirely sure. I mean, the story certainly works this way, but I'm not entirely sure of the purpose. I want to say that Amis is trying to get the reader to the genesis (the book travels from the death of the protagonist narrator to his conception) of such evil as the Holocaust, at least the genesis of such thing in the individuals who perpetuate such harm. But the book seems about more than that. The narrator, who tries to separate his bad deeds from himself with a persona (with different names in different locales), is unable to hide his innate selfishness. And that is where the horror seems to lie, since when the beginning of this man is found, we see that his behavior comes from the idea that he is the center of the universe, as most children feel they are. But the character is not a child; sadly, there is a bit of his mindset in all of us. Frightening.

The Time Traveler by Joyce Carol Oates. I can't believe I had lived nearly forty-five years and had not read an entire book by Joyce Carol Oates. I've read a handful of her stories (most notably "Where Are You Going? Where Have You Been?" in college) and essays, but never one of her novels. And oddly, I didn't seek this book out, but I was in the library with my class and just picked it off the shelf. The poems are, mostly, accessible and interesting to read. Nothing stood out to me, but I did find the final section, mostly elegies, good reading.