Thursday, February 26, 2009

Come Fill Up Your Glasses and Drink the Health of the Irish Rovers

Back in 2001, I saw the Irish Rovers in concert for the third and, thus far, final time, though I've come close to catching them again in the intervening years. They seem to be especially fond of the Erie area - and I am especially fond of them. That concert had a different flavor than the first two I attended, partly because it was in a smaller venue and partly because the line-up had changed. Will Millar, who acted as frontman at the previous concerts, was no longer with the group, and vocalist Jim Ferguson had died. Nonetheless, it was a most enjoyable concert, capped off with a meet and greet afterwards, where we bought their latest albums and had them signed by the whole band.

One of the albums we bought on that occasion was Come Fill Up Your Glasses, which has the feel of a transitional album. Will is nowhere to be found in this collection; Jim is present, but the album is dedicated to his memory, as he died shortly after the recording was completed. The most prominent member, or at least the one who most captures my attention, is John Reynolds, who in 1998, at the time this was released, was a fairly recent addition to the group.

The album consists of 14 tracks, many of which are traditional, with most featuring arrangements, if not words or music, by George Millar, brother to Will and cousin to Joe. Among the more familiar songs are Green Grows the Laurel and Little Brigid Flynn, both of which feature guys in love with unattainable women. The first has lost his love to a better man, while the second can't get the object of his affections to acknowledge his existence. Another two tracks have medleys of lively jigs and reels that give accomplished accordionist Wilcil McDowell the opportunity to shine.

Marriage is a popular subject with the Rovers and comes up in two of George's originals, Kitty the Rose of Kilrea and Will You Come and Marry Me. Both involve a poor young man marrying a beautiful woman. In the first, the speaker is a rambling rover willing to settle down for only one woman. In the second, a young woman refuses a series of earnest proposals, but in an ironic twist, she ultimately chooses a man who apparently isn't too thrilled with the honor. Bonnie Labouring Boy, meanwhile, is Joe's tender salute to all hard-working paupers who deserve to marry the women they love but don't necessarily get the opportunity.

George Millar's Ballintoy Farmer is a rather amusing and lengthy narrative ballad about a young man's all-time worst employment experience. While this is a fun song, I prefer the defiant The Shores of Botany Bay, in which a disgruntled worker tells off his boss and announces that he's headed for Australia; though most of his peers only get there as prisoners, this rough-and-tumble fellow sees freedom and opportunity in that far-off land. I like this one partly because Botany Bay always makes me think of The Wrath of Khan, and listening to it again recently, it reminds me of Yesterday's Men, a more modern but equally bitter song sung by George Donaldson of Celtic Thunder. It's one of the most rousing tunes on the album, and John and George harmonize wonderfully.

All of It and A Little Bit More are similar songs about getting as much as one can of something, whether that's alcohol or life. The first is a bit bawdy, while the second takes on a wistful tone because it's the one track on which Jim has lead vocals, and it follows a man through a life of asking for just a little bit more, including a prophetic plea for more time after a grim diagnosis from a doctor. The title track, Come Fill Up Your Glasses, is a lengthy, heartening toast wishing great things for a list of specific others and peace for all.

John has lead vocals on my two favorite tracks on this album. He wrote The Tinker, a gentle tune about a gypsy who wanders from place to place gratefully accepting the hospitality of those who take him in for the night. There's such warmth in his husky voice that listening to him sing "thank you for sharing the warmth of your fire" is like cozying up to the fireplace yourself.

Finally, Lincoln's Army, written by Johnny McEvoy, is one of the most stirring ballads I've ever heard. It's beautifully written, anchored by an AABCCB structure that charmed me so much I had to try my hand at it myself. With five stanzas of 92 syllables each, you can pack an awful lot of story into this beautiful mandolin-laced tune with the yearning flute strains that ripple through it like a plea for peace. Like many Rovers songs, it's about emigration, but it addresses a very specific experience, that of a young Irishman who leaves his family for the land of opportunity and, finding welcome only with the army, signs up to fight in the Civil War. It's a piece of history recounted in rich detail with McEvoy's accomplished lyrics, which carry a tone of perplexity for the cruelty of war, ending on this softly optimistic note: "And so, Mr. Lincoln, I find myself thinking / In spite of what's happened, I know what we'll do: / Pray God if he's willing there'll be no more killing / And we'll raise up the Stars, the Red. White and the Blue." It's one of the humblest pacifist songs I've encountered, and John's resonant voice is a perfect fit for it.

I'd recommend the album on the strength of Lincoln's Army alone, but Come Fill Up Your Glasses is packed with excellent material from beginning to end, so much so that although I considered Will my favorite member up until his split with the group, I can honestly say the album doesn't feel empty without him. Longtime fans who remember the Rovers from their heyday will be glad to see how they've weathered changes, remaining just as cohesive and entertaining as ever.

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

Trenton Lee Stewart Introduces Another Great Series with The Mysterious Benedict Society

In 2006, I turned the last page in A Series of Unfortunate Events. In 2007, I bid a reluctant farewell to Harry Potter. This year, I opened the first volume of The Mysterious Benedict Society. Perhaps I have found a worthy successor to those most excellent series.

This hefty middle grade novel by Trenton Lee Stewart reminded me of both. Instead of three orphaned children with unusual talents, it features four Well, not all are strictly orphaned, but as Reynie, the leader of the little group, observes, each child is, in some sense, alone. They respond to a curious ad in the paper promising "special opportunities" to those who pass a series of unusual tests. After they meet each other, it becomes clear that each has passed the tests using very different methods. It's their complementary ways of looking at the world that make them such ideal teammates.

Reynie Muldoon is the first character we meet, and Stewart allows us into his head more than the others'. A good-natured lad who is very intelligent but despises school, Reynie's specialty is puzzling things out. If some sort of trickery is afoot, Reynie is likely to pick up on it. As a lifelong loner, he loves the fact that he now has friends but is mystified by the way they look to him for leadership in all of their decisions. George Washington, a nervous, bespectacled boy who prefers to be called Sticky, is incredibly well-read, and his memory is impeccable. While he is plagued with insecurities, Sticky's extensive knowledge, particularly of Morse Code, is invaluable to the group.

Cheerful Kate Wetherall is a bundle of energy. Undaunted by whatever challenges lie in her path, she goes tumbling headfirst into danger, always concocting a clever, physically taxing scheme to achieve her ends. Petite Constance Contraire is the last to join the group, and though the others find it difficult to bond with her, since she always seems to be cranky, and question what unique abilities qualify her for their impending mission, they trust Mr. Benedict's assurances that her value will soon become apparent.

Mr. Benedict is the eccentric old man who organized the tests, and he gives the foursome a sense of stability that the Baudelaire orphans lack. He might well be compared to Albus Dumbledore, Harry Potter's sage headmaster. Like the famed wizard, he offers guidance but also leaves his young charges to figure out many things on their own. His special task involves sending them to a prestigious institute as uninviting as the one featured in The Austere Academy. There, they must try to excel and thereby learn as many of founder Ledroptha Curtain's secrets as they can without getting sucked into his web of illusions.

The Institute has an oppressive aura about it, like something out of 1984; most of the students seem to have been brainwashed, and it's doubtful whether any one of the children could resist the subtle seductions of Mr. Curtain and his machinery for long if they didn't have each other. Though they know Mr. Benedict and his friends are keeping an eye on them, they have no allies within the Institute itself, with the possible exception of S. Q. Pedalian, a bumbling Executive (a glorified hall monitor, among other things) who always treats them kindly but remains loyal to Mr. Curtain. This dim-witted young man who reminds me a bit of Stan Shunpike, conductor of the Knight Bus in the Harry Potter series, is my favorite of the minor characters, and I'm anxious to see in what direction the sequel will take him.

Part of the book's fun is trying to figure out the solutions to riddles and the meanings of clues before the main characters do. The most interesting revelations are character-related, and I confess that most of them took me by surprise, though a forehead-slapping "Of course!" soon followed. Stewart does an especially good job of resolving certain character traits and back stories as the novel draws to a close. The book is on the long side at nearly 500 pages, but there are almost 40 chapters, so the narrative is broken up into nice, manageable chunks.

It's too early for me to decide just where The Mysterious Benedict Society fits in with some of the intermediate series I've most enjoyed, but I certainly like it enough to pick up the second book and follow Reynie, Sticky, Kate and Constance through their next great adventure.

Scooby-Doo Has a Goony Time with the Harlem Globetrotters

A couple of weeks ago, I went to see the Harlem Globetrotters for the first time. They're regular visitors to the area, showing up about once a year to entertain crowds of kids in the middle of winter. I decided it was time to get in on the action. Then, as a way of extending my basketball wizardry experience, I hopped onto Netflix, hoping to rent The Harlem Globetrotters on Gilligan's Island. Alas, I had no luck in that department but stumbled upon something else potentially promising: Scooby-Doo Meets the Harlem Globetrotters.

There was a time when I watched Scooby-Doo fairly regularly with my brother. We watched it largely because it was so corny, and we got a kick out of making fun of it. This collection of two 40-minute-long Scooby-Doo cartoons is every bit as ridiculous as I expected. Both involve a chance encounter between Scooby's gang and the Globetrotters that lands them in a haunted mansion. Of course, neither house is actually haunted; there's always a perfectly logical explanation for everything that initially appears to be supernatural activity. But a spooky old house is a Scooby standard, so it's not surprising to find one in both episodes.

Other recurring elements: Shaggy (Casey Kasem) and Scooby (Don Messick) stuffing themselves, Fred (Frank Welker) making pointless observations, Velma (Nicole Jaffe) scolding Shaggy and Scooby for their silliness and Daphne (Heather North) not doing much of anything. And, because of the special guests, both episodes feature the Harlem Globetrotters doing fancy tricks with their ever-present basketballs. There are half a dozen team members that meet up with the gang, the most striking of whom are the effeminate-sounding Bobby Joe (Eddie Anderson) and the bald Curly (Stu Gilliam), whose abrasive voice reminds me of Gilbert Gottfried. Meadowlark (Scatman Crothers) seems to be the most level-headed of the bunch and tends to assume the leadership role among them.

The Mystery of Haunted Island is the more outlandish of the two tales. In this episode, Team Scooby and the Globetrotters bump into each other at an abandoned shack (where Fred is convinced they will find a can of gas for their car and a working telephone). The Globetrotters have a big game tomorrow but accept the gang's invitation to join the for lunch on Picnic Island. Except the boat they board doesn't take them to Picnic Island. No, instead they wind up on Haunted Island, after a long trip with only themselves as crew. It's already dark, so the picnic idea is out the window and all anybody is interested in is finding a place to sleep. Cue creepy mansion.

This episode is one of the more ridiculous Scooby-Doo episodes I can remember seeing, particularly once we find out who is causing all the strange happenings on Haunted Island and why. It's completely convoluted, an elaborate series of circumstances orchestrated as a very complicated solution to a simple problem. Unlike in most Scooby episodes, there's a fair bit of story left after the unmasking of the villains, and this part is probably the most entertaining aspect of the episode, as it allows the Globetrotters to really show off all their fancy tricks in some creative ways. The good-natured guys are fun to watch throughout, whether they're all huddled together under the covers hiding from spooks or ransacking a library looking for a secret exit, but they're most in their element in the last few minutes.

Loch Ness Mess is a much more typical episode. Shaggy and his friends are off to see his uncle in rural Massachusetts. On their way there, they stumble upon the Globetrotters, who are having a roadside barbecue. The sleuths load up on hot dogs and burgers and invite the guys to join them for some R&R at Shaggy's uncle's expansive farmhouse. Before they get there, they encounter ghosts in Revolutionary garb who warn them to stay away. Later, a trip to the lake brings them face to face with a Loch Ness-style sea serpent. Who are this mysterious beings, and what do they want? The solution this time around makes more sense; the downside is that the opportunities for the Globetrotters to do their tricks are more limited.

Included on this disc are a couple of uninspiring extras. One is a music video about Scooby taking on Hollywood, and it's sung by Shaggy, whose voice seems even creakier when he's attempting (poorly) to carry a tune. Less grating but barely worth accessing is a game promising some fancy Globetrotters antics if you follow a series of hints about the direction in which the featured player should toss his ball next. There are only a few panels, and they're completely two-dimensional, so it's hard to get too excited about a freeze frame that doesn't so much resemble fancy basketball-playing as one of those Family Circus strips in which Billy wanders all around the neighborhood, with dotted lines indicating the path he has taken.

Renting Scooby-Doo Meets the Harlem Globetrotters was a fun addendum to my evening, but it really is woefully silly. If you're a Scooby fan, it's pretty typical stuff, but if you haven't acquired a taste for his show, you might just find this collection a bit too much to take.

Glitzy 81st Oscars Are a Ceremony to Remember

I came into the 2008 Oscars having seen only three of the nominees: WALL-E, The Dark Knight and Doubt. I almost saw Slumdog Millionaire, but the theater was sold out and we never made it back; I have no excuse for Man on Wire, since not only does Netflix have it, it's available for instant viewing. But that will have to be my first post-Oscar pick. Anyway, though I hadn't seen most of the movies involved, I was fairly well-informed about most of them, and I found myself especially rooting for The Little Movie That Could, which came close to pulling off a Return of the King-style sweep.

Last year's ceremony was pretty short on frills. By contrast, this year's was showy, from the gorgeous crystal curtain hanging over the stage to the song-and-dance antics of host Hugh Jackman. I thought the ensemble tribute to musical theater featuring him, Beyonce, Vanessa Hudgens and Zac Efron was entertaining, albeit rather chaotic. But the opening number, where he so energetically and hilariously honored the Best Picture nominees (and The Dark Knight), was brilliant. Clever lyrics, great way of matching the music to the mood of the movies, and man, can that guy sing! And Anne Hathaway was a nice surprise. They looked - and sounded - great together.

I liked the structure of taking us through the movie-making process, which put more focus on the amount of work that goes into the more technical aspects of movie production. I was a little disappointed that WALL-E won in none of these categories, but at least it took home the big award for Best Animated Picture. (As if there was any doubt; I loved Jack Black's line about starring in Dreamworks movies and then betting all his money on Pixar winning the Oscar.) The WALL-E-centric ode to 2008's animated features was fun, as were his appearances in the romance montage.

One of the most memorable moments from the technical awards came with Best Cinematography, when Ben Stiller did a killer Joaquin Phoenix impression while Natalie Portman played it straight. It was hilarious, but it did seem a bit disrespectful; then again, perhaps the movie community feels like Phoenix has been thumbing his nose at them lately. What was really disrespectful was the fact that Stiller went on goofing around while the nominees were being read, so it didn't seem like anyone was paying attention to those names. I think he let the gag go on too long and detracted from their big moment. The Slumdog cinematographer gave a great speech, though, gracious and funny.

I was a little surprised that some presenters stayed on stage so long, but it seemed to streamline the process a bit, and I don't think anyone was complaining too much about seeing Will Smith presenting four awards in a row. The rising through the floor bit was fun, as was his comment, the fourth time around, that Hugh was napping. Probably the most memorable of that batch of speeches was for Sound Mixing. He really seemed to appreciate it, and taking it as a victory for his whole country was nice. And going back to Best Make-Up (one of several presented rather blandly by Daniel Craig and Sarah Jessica Parker), that was an impressive list of names to spit out in such a short time. Made for a somewhat dull speech, but I'm sure the folks who were mentioned appreciated it.

The one low point in the evening for me was when Bill Maher presented the documentary awards. I groaned when I saw him step out because I knew he'd have something inflammatory to say. As somebody who's generally more involved in television than movies, he felt rather out of place anyway, and instead of acting grateful for the opportunity, he seemed to be bent on deriding everybody. And plugging his movie. From his "silly little gods" comment to his dismissive remark after the Man on Wire guys made their speech, he just oozed contempt for the whole thing. I don't know if Maher's beef with them was the documentary itself or the speech, but I loved that they invited their subject up to the stage. He was among the giddiest people we saw all night, and I got a kick out of his Oscar-balancing and disappearing coin trick.

I expected that Prop 8 would come up at some point during the night, and it did. Sean Penn got a little heated with his remarks, but I enjoyed his speech overall, especially the shout-out to Mickey Rourke. Still, I preferred the emotional acceptance speech of Milk's incredibly young-looking screenwriter, and it was moving to see him getting choked up all over again as Penn accepted his award. His profound gratitude lessened the blow of WALL-E failing to get top screenplay honors. I still think it should have been nominated for Best Picture. I thought Tina Fey and Steve Martin were a great presenting team, by the way, and I was quite content to watch them banter their way through two awards.

Speaking of banter, Seth Rogen and James Franco's video was a hoot. As an ode to comedy it was rather strange, since half the featured movies were only funny because those two were laughing at wildly inappropriate times, but I thought it worked. I also found the promo for Jimmy Kimmel with Tom Cruise hilarious, and the only ad aside from the inspirational True North commercials that really got my attention. (I actually stayed up for Kimmel because of it and was rewarded with not only more silliness with Cruise but also deliciously ridiculous previews for The Curious Case of Benjamin Batman and The Colonel, a Civil War epic starring Mel Gibson. As Colonel Sanders.)

I found Queen Latifah's live song accompanying the memorial tribute classy, though I'm not sure if it was such a good idea not to fill the screen with the clips of the deceased. I found it rather hard to see what was happening, and I missed a few of the names. I liked Eddie Murphy's presentation of Jerry Lewis's honorary award, as well as the video (especially the clip of Mattie Stepanek), and I thought that Lewis was very gracious. He also looked like he was in good health. Anyway, he could have taken a moment to grouse about never being recognized for his work in the years when he was in so many movies, but instead he just seemed thankful.

One thing that I really liked this year was the way the acting awards were presented. It felt so much more meaningful to have five past winners stand up there and speak directly to the nominees than just showing a little clip of the movie. Each of the nominees really seemed to appreciate those words of praise; it was like they all got a prize. I especially got a kick out of Whoopi Goldberg's riff on nuns to Amy Adams (who I was hoping, but not really expecting, to win). I can't believe Alan Arkin flubbed Philip Seymour Hoffman's name, but it was a nice speech otherwise. All 20 of those mini-speeches were beautifully done, I thought. The Oscars didn't seem so concerned with speed this time around. There was time for reflection and big showy musical numbers, and nobody got played off the stage.

I was rooting for Meryl Streep for Best Actress, but Kate Winslet sure was tickled with her win. I kept forgetting she was up there for The Reader and not Revolutionary Road. It's been a big year for her. I liked her acceptance speech, especially the part about practicing this moment with a shampoo bottle in front of the mirror when she was eight, and thanking Peter Jackson for her first big break. Asking her dad to whistle so she knew where he was also was great. Of course, perhaps no other award of the night had generated more interest than Best Supporting Actor. I wasn't surprised in the least to see Heath Ledger receive the award (though it's slightly disturbing that the winning role has been a homicidal sociopath two years running). I thought both Kevin Kline and the members of Ledger's immediate family paid him nice tribute, and I thought it was appropriate that the cameras spent so much time panning through the audience for reactions to this particular award. It seemed like a cathartic moment for everyone there.

Of course, the king of the night was Slumdog Millionaire, and they must've cut to the ecstatically grinning Danny Boyle about a dozen times. I loved his speech, especially the bouncing up and down before announcing that he was receiving the award in the spirit of Tigger and his shout-out to the people of Mumbai. I wasn't all that interested in the music categories this year, but I thought A. R. Rahman seemed very touched. At first, he just seemed shell-shocked, but he recovered by the second award, and I liked what he had to say about the power of hope and choosing love over hate. After it won so many other awards, I would have been pretty surprised to see Slumdog not take top honors, so the Best Picture award wasn't a shocker, but it was a great moment with everybody, especially the kids, up on stage. What a night for them!

I took a stab at guessing in each of the categories, though I was completely clueless about a few of them. I managed to guess 14 correctly, which was slightly better than last year, when I had seen much more of the nominees. What does that tell you? Of course, I have Slumdog to thank for some of that. Now that it's been so richly rewarded, I'm even more determined to see if I think it lives up to the accolades. In any case, this Cinderella story provided an uplifting tone for the evening that was most welcome. And Hugh, if you're not too busy filming New Zealand (the musical! with hobbits!), I'd be more than glad to see you back next year. The Oscars seem to be expanding more and more beyond America every year, but if this night is any indication, that's not a bad thing.

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

Miri Learns a Lot About Life and Herself in Princess Academy

Last year, while mulling around my aunt's bookstore waiting for the ceremonial opening of the boxes of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, my eye strayed to an audiobook display, where I saw Austenland, a novel about a Jane Austen enthusiast who receives the gift of an immersive trip into Austenian England. Months later, I picked up the audiobook at the library, as it did not seem to be available in traditional book form, but I'm much more of a visual reader and never found the time to finish it. Still, I enjoyed what I heard, and the name stuck with me. Shannon Hale. It wasn't long before my friend Beth clued me in to the fact that Hale has also written several books for young adults, and exceptional ones at that. Hence, Shannon Hale was added to my list of must-read authors. Just recently, she rose to the top of the list.

Princess Academy is the story of Miri, a girl who lives with her father and sister on Mount Eskel, where most of the hardy residents spend their days mining linder, a valuable white stone. Miri stays away from the quarry, heeding her father's strict orders, though she yearns to feel like a valued part of her community. She tends the goats and is in charge of trading with the lowlanders who periodically come to town, but she still feels fairly useless. When an announcement goes out that all girls of a certain age are ordered to attend an academy in order to prepare themselves for the possibility of becoming princess, as the kingdom's priests have determined that the prince is destined to marry a girl from Mount Eskel, Miri at first dreads going. But as classes begin, she starts to imagine how her life, and that of her family, might change for the better if she were selected.

Miri is a spirited heroine, unafraid to speak her mind when she senses injustice. Initially, that happens a lot at the Academy, since their teacher, Olana, is a stern woman who imposes harsh punishments upon her pupils. In trying to defend her peers, she risks increasing her isolation. Terribly lonesome without her sister, who was deemed too old to attend, she struggles to bond with the others and is suspicious of friendly overtures made by the quiet Britta, who moved to the mountain only a short time before. Other girls, like the vacuous Liana and Bena and the fiercely determined Katar, are openly antagonistic as they compete for the title of Academy Princess, an honor likely to give the recipient a better shot with the prince.

Miri works as hard as anyone, pleased to find an arena in which she can excel, but questions whether she truly wants to be princess. The mountain is home, and marrying a man she barely knows is a scary prospect - especially when she thinks about Peder, her childhood playmate, the sight of whom has lately stirred up strange feelings within her. But she has no qualms about her education and is amazed at the world it opens up for her. Learning to read is particularly valuable, as is her accidental discovery of a communication method unique to Mount Eskel residents, which she carefully hones, knowing this covert skill may be of great use to her.

Princess Academy has the feel of an old-fashioned fairy tale, stretched across 25 chapters. It's full of richly drawn characters, adventure and romance with an emphasis on the importance of education and cultural dialogue, and I found the rules for diplomacy enumerated midway through the book worth recalling in everyday life. I could certainly see this being adapted into a fine family film, but even if that happens, it's worth taking the time to read the book. Princess Academy truly is regal.

Freddie Highmore and Joan Plowright Impress in The Spiderwick Chronicles

I first stumbled upon Freddie Highmore in Two Brothers, the 2004 film in which he portrayed a young boy with a pet tiger that eventually had to turned out of the house, only to be reunited with him months later. His performance impressed me, and I've kept an eye out for his movies ever since. The most recent was The Spiderwick Chronicles, a fantastical tale about three siblings who unearth some very unsettling secrets about the rambling home they have just occupied.

The Spiderwick Chronicles are a series of five books for intermediate readers. I've been aware of them for years, but I never read them. From what I understand, this movie covers all five books; I couldn't say how faithfully it adapts them, but the film is entertaining from an outsider's perspective.

Highmore plays both Jared and Simon Grace, a pair of American twins. There's an odd husky quality to his voice, but his American accent is entirely convincing. At first I had a little trouble keeping the twins straight, but Highmore made them distinct enough from each other that I eventually managed. Jared is the one who happens upon the titular volume, a compendium of information about magical beings that could be very dangerous in the wrong hands. He soon discovers that his house is surrounded by such creatures, though seeing them requires either a special eyepiece or a deeper level of vision bestowed by a hobgoblin (Seth Rogen). The only exception is Thimbletack (Martin Short), a curious little fellow who is Jared's staunchest ally in the magical world.

The movie is a rousing adventure filled with CGI, to a sometimes distracting extent. I almost preferred the scenes in which the beasts were invisible and liked the way the theme of proper sight played out over the film. I also liked the family dynamic; the twins fight to keep their home and defeat their shape-shifting nemesis Mulgarath (Nick Nolte) with the help of their spunky sister Mallory (Sarah Bolger), while struggling to come to grips with the separation of their mom (Mary-Louise Parker) and dad (Andrew McCarthy).

The most affecting performance came from Joan Plowright as the children's aunt Lucinda, long institutionalized for her assertion that her father (David Strathairn) was carried off by fairies when she was a girl. For most of her long life, she has been craving his return, and it so happens that he is the key to bringing down Mulgarath. I found this father-daughter subplot to be the true heart of the movie.

The Spiderwick Chronicles isn't quite up there with the best fantasy films I've seen, but it's action-packed and family friendly, and I recommend it to anyone who enjoys the genre.

Captain Picard Says Hello to the 20th Century in The Big Goodbye

When Star Trek: The Next Generation was on the air, my family used to watch it every week, so I was pleased to discover that WGN has recently begun running the series, though I keep forgetting it's on. Last night, I was flipping through the channels and caught it right at the beginning. I can't say I remember this particular episode, a season one outing called The Big Goodbye, but when it opened with stately Captain Jean-Luc Picard (Patrick Stewart) getting all giggly in the Holodeck, I figured I was in for a treat.

The Holodeck is a wonderful Next Generation invention that allows the Enterprise's officers to immerse themselves in any surroundings they choose. This often means trips to fictional or historical settings, which is a nice change of pace, particularly since it gets the characters out of their familiar uniforms. Picard's destination of choice is the early 1940s, where he steps into the trenchcoat of his favorite gumshoe, Dixon Hill, and finds himself in a world of sultry women and snarling mobsters.

He's so impressed upon his first Holodeck adventure that he returns with the ship's historian, Whalen (David Selberg), and Dr. Crusher (Gates McFadden), who hopes the trip will present an opportunity for some alone time with the captain. That prospect becomes more unlikely when the ever-curious Data (Brent Spiner) reads up on the detective and decides to crash the party, confusing Holodeck characters with his pasty skin and matter-of-fact statements about the future, reminding me of Spock in The City on the Edge of Forever. But he's along simply to have fun and becomes increasingly comical as he adopts not only the colloquialisms of the time but also a cheesy accent.

Little does Picard's merry band know that their little game is about to turn deadly, as there are dangerous men on their tail and the Holodeck has malfunctioned, leaving them trapped. What's more, Picard has an important job to do on the bridge - recite the proper greeting to an alien race in hopes of restoring peace after another captain's pronunciation gaffe twenty years earlier deeply offended them. If he doesn't escape soon, it could be a diplomatic disaster.

Most of this episode takes place in the Holodeck, making it especially entertaining, though the action on the ship is engaging too as second-in-command Riker (Jonathan Frakes), engineer Geordi La Forge (LeVar Burton) and geeky teenage ensign Wesley Crusher (Wil Wheaton) rush to fix the Holodeck in time. The most amusing performances definitely come from Stewart and Spiner, both on the Holodeck and off - Stewart because we're not used to seeing Picard swept away in childlike wonder, Spiner because childlike wonder is what he does best. Generally speaking, I find Data to be the show's funniest character.

Despite some high stakes, The Big Goodbye is a lighthearted episode, even down to what Picard has to say to the alien envoy. It's one of the best examples of how fun Next Generation could be.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

The President's Puppy: Lincoln From a Dog's Eye View

Ever since Barack Obama's Election Day promise to buy his daughters a puppy, there's been a lot of speculation as to what type of pup might have the honor of being First Dog. Presidential pets are nothing new; according to Wikipedia, only Chester A. Arthur had no pets at all during his stay in the White House, and all but ten Presidents had dogs there. That includes Abraham Lincoln, who adopted a dog named Jip after he got to the White House, but he also left a dog behind in Springfield, fearing the journey and change of surroundings would prove too traumatic. That dog was Fido, the subject of The President's Puppy, a level four Hello Reader! written by Linda Oatman High and illustrated by Steve Bjorkman.

This is an easy reader designed for second and third graders, so the sentence structure tends to be pretty basic, and there's quite a bit of repetition along the lines of Fido did this or He did that. This gives the story a slightly truncated feel. The writing is informative but not particularly engrossing. The illustrations, meanwhile, are a cartoonish sort of realistic and remind me of Sucie Stevenson's pictures for the Henry and Mudge series.

The book is written in the third person but lets readers into Fido's head as the author imagines how the dog would respond to his family life in Illinois and the change in his circumstances after Lincoln's election to the presidency. Among the more interesting tidbits are Lincoln's habit of going to Billy the Barber's and Diller's Drugstore (with Fido in tow) and his gift of Fido's favorite sofa to the neighbors who took him in. There's also the fact that the Lincolns had a photograph taken of Fido before they left for Washington, D.C.; the book doesn't mention this, but it was the first known photo of a presidential pet.

Though the book concludes with President Lincoln's assassination, it fails to mention the death of Willie Lincoln, who figures prominently in the first portion of the book. Perhaps High didn't want the book to get too depressing; I certainly don't blame her for leaving out the fact that Fido's life ended in 1866 when he was stabbed by a drunk. Still, there are certain elements that could have been expanded upon, and the title is misleading, as Fido was several years old in 1860.

The President's Puppy is an interesting little slice of history. By describing his dog, which did many of the same things any typical dog would do (chase his tail, have his ears scratched, play in the leaves, steal food off the table), High helps make Lincoln seem more accessible to modern youngsters. For a much more in-depth look at how Lincoln related to animals, I recommend Ellen Jackson's Abe Lincoln Loved Animals, but The President's Puppy is a good starting point.

Animal Enthusiasts Will Enjoy Abe Lincoln Loved Animals

There are many factors contributing to my fondness for Abraham Lincoln. One is his lifelong affection for animals. I've read several books touching on this subject, but the most comprehensive study of this aspect of his life that I've read is Ellen Jackson's Abe Lincoln Loved Animals, illustrated by Doris Ettlinger.

This book has especially wide pages, allowing for panoramic expanses showing Lincoln in the wild, such as the opening illustration in which he, as a boy, peers from behind a tree to see an array of animals including family of foxes, a pair of deer, a turtle, a raccoon, fish, frogs and birds. The book then progresses through a series of isolated incidents demonstrating Lincoln's connection to the animal world.

One story that seems to come up again and again in books I've read is the time when, as an eight-year-old, he shot a turkey and was so disturbed by it that he vowed never to hunt large animals again. Bookending that moment is the much later instance when, at the request of his son Tad, he officially pardoned Jack, a turkey intended to be made into Christmas dinner. The pardoning of a turkey each Thanksgiving is now a presidential tradition.

The book includes several stories of Lincoln intervening when he observed animals in distress, from rushing to the defense of a turtle upon whose back his school friends were placing hot coals to stopping to scoop up some baby birds that had fallen from a nest in a tree. Other tales concern his pets, like his horse, Old Bob; his dog Fido, who he left with friends in Springfield, but only after getting his photograph taken; and his cat Tabby, who ate at the table with the Lincolns at the White House.

In her Author's Note, Jackson reveals the sources for many of her stories, while the facing page lists twenty books and articles that she used for her research. I'm especially intrigued by Ruth Painter Randall's Lincoln's Animal Friends: Incidents about Abraham Lincoln and Animals, Woven into an Intimate Story of His Life.

Abe Lincoln Loved Animals is written fairly simply but is in-depth enough that it provides historical context for Lincoln's life, particularly during his years as President. Jackson relates his compassion for animals to a commitment to mercy and fairness in general, particularly when it came to slavery. The illustrations are effective, especially those that show him in the company of a variety of animals. As an added bonus, the photograph of Fido is included on the title page. While Jackson and Ettlinger might be accused of taking a rather sentimental approach to Lincoln, particularly in the way they choose to end the book, children who love animals should find it a fascinating study.

Abe Lincoln's Stepmother and Others Helped Him to Stand Tall

I'm a big fan of the show LOST, which has always explored the impact that accidental interactions can have upon a life. Events on the island itself are being increasingly revisited, allowing viewers to examine their importance. What were the turning points in these castaways' lives, on the island and off?

Author Judith St. George is very interested in "turning points" as they apply to U.S. Presidents. In Stand Tall, Abe Lincoln, she focuses on the childhood of the sixteenth President, trying to determine what some of his most formative moments may have been. Matt Faulkner furnished the gouache illustrations, which are full two-page spreads in a caricature style similar to that of C. F. Payne, who used to do the back-cover pictures for Reader's Digest.

The book is divided into six chapters of six to eight pages, with about a dozen solid paragraphs for each chapter, taking Lincoln through adolescence. The narrative itself only hints at the accomplishments and attitudes that would mark his adulthood, while a biographical sketch in the back provides a basic outline, leaving out any mention of his wife and sons. By contrast, his childhood family is of the utmost significance here.

I've always been fascinated by Lincoln, and St. George offers details I can't remember coming across before, though they're so noteworthy I'm surprised more books haven't mentioned them. For instance, when he was three, his baby brother Thomas died when he was a only few days old. A couple years later, he had a beloved pet pig that his father slaughtered. Shortly before his mother died of milk sickness, his aunt and uncle, who had recently moved to Indiana, died of the same disease, and their teenage son moved in with the Lincolns. He endured many difficult times.

But more positive events also shaped him. He went to school at the age of six, where he learned to read and made his first friend, who rescued him from potential drowning in a turbulent creek. When he was eleven, though he hadn't had formal schooling in years, he helped his neighbors read and write mail and discovered that most of them had suffered as deeply as he had. Of all the events in his young life, St. George seems to place the most emphasis upon the arrival of his stepmother Sally, who brought books and was tireless in her efforts to provide for his education.

This is one of the wordier picture book biographies of Lincoln I've read, though the illustrations are an integral part of the tale. Faulkner's characters are very expressive, his backgrounds evocative. I especially like his depiction of the Lincolns' arrival in Indiana. I'd recommend Stand Tall, Abe Lincoln for children ten and up because of its length and its fairly stark examination of his boyhood tragedies. It's a fascinating account acknowledging that it takes many steps to reach great heights.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Somewhere Out There, A Boy and His Mother Will Find Each Other

One of my favorite movies is An American Tail, the Don Bluth film about a young Russian mouse who becomes separated from his family just before they are about to land at Ellis Island. While they all struggle in this strange new land, they cling to the hope that they will be reunited, a sentiment captured in the duet Somewhere Out There.

I thought of that movie and especially that scene as I watched Under the Same Moon, the Patricia Riggen film about a Mexican boy named Carlos Reyes (Adrian Alonso) who makes his way across the border to Los Angeles to find his mother Rosario (Kate del Castillo), who has been working there for several years. The movie starts with him speaking to her from a payphone, a weekly ritual. Shortly thereafter, his grandmother dies, leaving him alone, and his journey begins.

Alonso is an incredibly expressive young boy, and the pain of Carlos's predicament is reflected in his eyes. His plight is compelling enough that it soon becomes easy to forget the film is in Spanish rather than English. The majority of the movie focuses on him and the various antagonists and allies he encounters in his travels. Mexican-American Marta (America Ferrera) is among the first to offer aid; she is instrumental in getting him across the border but her interaction with him is minimal. The most important relationship he forms on his trip is with Enrique (Eugenio Derbez), a surly illegal immigrant headed for the east coast. Initially, he wants nothing to do with the boy, but gradually they develop a powerful bond that is tested just when Carlos's goal seems within reach.

Del Castillo is almost as affecting as Alonso in her role, and seeing her long for her son and struggle with exploitive employers, we wonder if she wouldn't be happier just going back home. She wonders that too - but doesn't contemplate it until her son is already on his way to her, unbeknownst to her. It's fairly obvious where the story is leading, but there's still room for suspense as she considers going back to Mexico, a move that would make the longed-for reunion that much more unlikely. Her storyline has a slight romantic bent to it as well, as Paco (Gabriel Porras), an honorable gentleman of her acquaintance, is quite obviously smitten with her and she doesn't know quite what to do about it.

Under the Same Moon is a beautifully shot film that explores immigration issues but is mostly a touching story of a mother and son trying to find their way back to one another. Some may find it too schmaltzy or predictable, but for me, it was a gem of a movie. "Even though I know how very far apart we are," the little Mousekewitz crooned, "it helps to know we might be wishing on the same bright star." Or gazing up at the same moon.

Kay Winters Shows That Literacy Is Power in Abe Lincoln: The Boy Who Loved Books

When I was growing up, I was always reading. I learned how to do it when I was four, and from then on, I carried a book with me wherever I went. This love of literacy is something I have in common with my favorite President, Abraham Lincoln. In Abe Lincoln: The Boy Who Loved Books, Kay Winters explores his lifelong passion for reading, while Nancy Carpenter's oil paintings show how that drive helped him at various stages of his life.

The bulk of the book's focus is on Lincoln's childhood; the first 30 pages take him up to the age of 19, while the next eight carry him through to the Presidency. The back contains a biographical note of several paragraphs touching on the Civil War and Lincoln's death, but the main portion leaves readers with a picture of the President reading a book at his desk by a roaring fireplace and the concluding sentence, "He learned the power of words and used them well." Thus, the book isn't about Lincoln's accomplishments as President, it's about the way his literacy put him on a path to attain the Presidency as he discovered "words could change the way folks thought."

Winters' words are presented in non-rhyming poetic stanzas. There is beauty in the way she chooses to phrase her thoughts. Throughout the book, she includes various intriguing asides - that he lived in little more than a lean-to for a time when he was seven; that he whittled pegs for his mother's coffin; that he once walked miles to return six cents after accidentally overcharging a customer at his general store. But reading or writing come into play on almost every page, as Carpenter sometimes amusingly illustrates, particularly in a two-page spread showing the teenage Lincoln reading while doing a variety of chores.

While there are many aspects of Lincoln's life that The Boy Who Loved Books doesn't mention - even Mary Todd and their sons only pop up in the biographical note - the narrow focus is a nice angle to take and one to which children can relate well. I think perhaps Winters could have spent a bit more time on Lincoln's adult life, particularly since the four pages dealing with his stint at the general store don't fit very firmly with the theme. On the whole, however, it's a very effective tale, lovingly written and designed to help children appreciate not only Lincoln but the value of books, words and letters.

I'd recommend it mostly for children in the 8 to 12 range, though older Lincoln enthusiasts will find value in it, and it might make a good read-aloud for slightly younger children. It deals with dark subjects like the death of Lincoln's mother and his observation of a slave auction without being too grim, and its warm illustrations are a perfect complement to Winter's writing, which aptly demonstrates the power of words.

He's Just Not That Into You, and She Probably Isn't Either

A few years back, Greg Behrendt and Liz Tuccillo published He's Just Not That Into You to great acclaim. While it received its fair share of criticism, my best friend was a big fan of the book and thought it offered valuable advice, so she was looking forward to the movie. Though I hadn't read it, I thought the movie looked fun and was all for us seeing it opening weekend. It won't be nominated for any Oscars, but I found it a fairly entertaining romp through the maze of dating that many men and women navigate.

He's Just Not That Into You, directed by Ken Kwapis and adapted for the screen by Abby Kohn and Mark Silverstein, takes a self-help book and turns it into a romantic comedy with an intersecting cast of characters. Most often, bartender Alex (Justin "I'm a Mac" Long) serves as the voice of the book, doling out practical advice to the clueless-in-love Gigi (Ginnifer Goodwin), who can't ever seem to secure a second date. That function is also occasionally fulfilled by various clusters of gay men, the implication being, I suppose, that they are able to be objective observers to these little dramas that play out over and over. It's only one of the movie's many stereotypes; given the thrust of the book, though, I can deal with that. Each of the characters is being used to illustrate a point.

Alex and Gigi are probably the most interesting, rounded characters, but the movie never keeps the focus on anyone for very long. There are too many different stories to explore. We meet Beth (Jennifer Aniston), who has lived with her boyfriend Neil (Ben Affleck) for seven years and is growing frustrated with his apparent lack of interest in marriage. Conor (Kevin Connolly), one of Gigi's failed dates, doesn't know where he stands with Anna (Scarlett Johansson), whose affection for him seems to have cooled considerably. Little does he know that she's in hot pursuit of Ben (Bradley Cooper), a man struggling to be a faithful husband to the steady Janine (Jennifer Connelly) in the face of temptation. Somewhat removed from all this is Mary (Drew Barrymore), who uses the Internet to connect to potential love interests, though she ties in nicely by the conclusion.

In addition to all of these main characters, there are several unnamed folks - mostly women - who give testimonials about their experiences in the romance department. These are among the funnier scenes in the movie, as is the opener, which uses a playground disappointment to set up a lifetime of unrealistic expectations. It all seems very cynical at first, but as the film draws to a close, there are indications that love may not be so out of reach for at least some of these people after all.

One scene in particular produced a prolonged "Awwwwwwwww" from the female portion of the audience, prompting one guy to shout out, "You girls are so sad!" That statement could sum up the sentiments of a good chunk of the movie, which shows women going far out of their way to rationalize a man giving them the cold shoulder. By the same token, the men are generally shown as insensitive and full of brush-off tactics. There's about as much coarse language as a PG-13 film will allow. Then there's the fact that one of the movie's "rules" is, "If she's not sleeping with you, she's just not that into you." While other rules are refuted to some degree, this one never is, and it's bothersome that among all of these characters, not one considers abstinence a viable option. The whole thing makes the dating game look pretty unappealing and seems to me to support the idea that, as I've always suspected, it's usually better to just let a relationship develop naturally out of an acquaintance or friendship instead of actively searching for Mr. or Ms Right, one bad date at a time.

Some may find He's Just Not That Into You more relevant than others. While I didn't see a lot there that applies to me, it seemed like a reasonably insightful peek into the potential pitfalls of dating. The humor and strong ensemble cast make this a movie worth checking out if romance has you a bit down this Valentine's Day.

Grace's Gumption Is Rewarded in Mr. Lincoln's Whiskers

I'm rather fond of writing letters to famous people. I've written to authors, actors, musicians and even a U.S. President. But the President I really would have loved to write predated me by more than a century. I didn't get that chance, but 11-year-old Grace Bedell did, and the brief correspondence between this Westfield, NY, girl and soon-to-be-elected Abraham Lincoln encourages children to express their ideas and not to let anyone convince them their thoughts are of little importance.

In Mr. Lincoln's Whiskers, Karen B. Winnick depicts Grace as a young woman passionate about politics. After her father returns from a trip and brings her a poster of Lincoln, she studies his picture and decides that he would look much better with a beard. Having heard one of her brothers putting Lincoln down, she wants to do what she can to assist with his campaign, so she writes to him suggesting he adopt facial hair. Not only does she receive a response, she has the opportunity to see Lincoln when his train heading from Springfield, IL, to Washington, D.C. stops in Westfield, and he has a surprise in store for her...

Winnick's oil paintings are realistic and full of details of life in 1860. I especially like the painting of Mr. Bedell's horse-drawn carriage standing in the shadow of autumn trees and of Grace snuggling under a patchwork quilt, a little doll on her bed and a big dog underneath it. The best picture, however, is saved for last, when Grace actually meets almost-President Lincoln and savors the feel of his newly grown "whiskers" as he kisses her on the cheek.

This book includes the entire text of Lincoln's response to Grace, most notably the playful and misleading, "As to the whiskers, having never worn any, do you not think people would call it a piece of silly affection if I were to begin it now?" Grace's letter is slightly abridged, with details that have no relevance to the book omitted. Copies of both letters are included in the back of the book, so readers can puzzle over both Bedell and Lincoln's handwriting.

In subsequent years, Lincoln's beard would become a physical characteristic as striking as his height. Like William Riker, the second-in-command on Star Trek: The Next Generation, Abraham Lincoln gained a much more authoritative look when he had a few whiskers to flesh out his face. They didn't make him a better president, but they did make him seem more distinguished.

Winnick tells her story in short paragraphs set in white text boxes against the full-page illustrations. Most of the tale is told in dialogue as Grace discusses the upcoming election and its aftermath with her parents and brothers. Mr. Lincoln's Whiskers would be a great book to read to a grade school class as part of a study on Lincoln or a letter-writing project. Who knows what impact those children's words might have?

Dickens Goes to the Dogs in Oliver and Company

When I was seven years old, the movie Oliver and Company hit the theaters. I immediately declared myself a big fan. I hung a large poster on the wall of my bedroom. I placed a finger puppet version of Oliver in the hot air balloon I had suspended over my bed so I saw him whenever I looked up. I bought the picture book adaptation from the Scholastic Book Club. But I never actually saw the movie. I'm not sure how that happened, as just about every other Disney movie that came out when I was a kid merited a trip to the theater, especially if it was animated. But I never got around to this one, and for some reason, I never rented it either. I finally got to see what I was missing this week when I rented it from Netflix.

Oliver and Company is an extremely loose adaptation of Charles Dickens' Oliver Twist. Instead of 19th-century London, it takes place in 1980s New York City. Little orphan Oliver (Joey Lawrence) is an orange kitten who strikes out on his own after his siblings are plucked from a street-corner box. The Artful Dodger is just plain Dodger (Billy Joel), a super-cool mutt who, after a rocky introduction, takes Oliver under his wing. Fagin (Dom DeLuise) looks pretty rough around the edges, but this human leader of Dodger's ragtag canine gang has a heart of gold, which I expected as soon as I heard DeLuise's voice. I always felt sorry for Fagin despite his villainous traits, but this Fagin is much more victim than villain and even has a heroic moment late in the film. The true villain is Sykes (Robert Loggia), to whom Fagin must deliver a hefty chunk of cash - or else.

Oliver's benefactor in this movie is Jenny (Natalie Gregory), a rich, lonely girl whose parents are often away on business. She lives under the supervision of jovial butler Winston (William Glover) and shares a home with pampered show poodle Georgette (Bette Midler). When Jenny happens upon Oliver, she is ecstatic, and Oliver, though he enjoys the company of Dodger's posse - dopey Einstein (Richard Mulligan), feisty Tito (Cheech Marin), regal Francis (Roscoe Lee Browne) and maternal Rita (Sheryl Lee Ralph) - couldn't be happier to have the home he always wanted. So he's not too pleased when they "rescue" him just as he's settling in and even less tickled to find himself being used as a bargaining chip to get Fagin out of debt.

This is a fun movie full of peppy songs and funny zingers, mostly from Dodger and his fellow dogs. I was a little disappointed to discover that Billy Joel had not written the music; it was his name I most associated with the movie, and I thought his role in it was slightly larger. Still, he does get the big show-stopping musical number, Why Should I Worry?, which bears a certain resemblance to Aladdin's One Jump Ahead. (It also includes the line "I got street savoir-faire," which my mom mis-heard as "I got fleas in my hair." Which no doubt was true as well!)

The other big number is Once Upon a Time in New York City, the opening song performed by Huey Lewis that firmly establishes the setting. This movie never lets us forget where we are, whether we're gazing up at the Twin Towers or joining Jenny and Oliver for an idyllic carriage ride through Central Park. Jenny does get her own song too, the very sweet and quiet Good Company, while Georgette's braggy Perfect Isn't Easy is amusingly over-the-top.

Just before the conclusion, there's one very dark moment involving Sykes, and there are slightly racy undertones with the way Tito and Georgette interact with one another. For the most part, however, this is a very sanitized version of the Dickens classic. The backgrounds have a somewhat flat quality to them, but they still are effective in capturing the hustle and bustle of the Big Apple. I confess it didn't hold my attention quite as much as I thought it might; I would say it's not quite up there with Lady and the Tramp or 101 Dalmatians. But for a lover of Disney, Dickens or dogs, Oliver and Company is a worthwhile movie to watch.

Thursday, February 5, 2009

Blue Jeans Prevail Over Diamonds in A Crooked Kind of Perfect

When I was six years old, we had a small Casio keyboard that we'd gotten for Christmas, and one night I decided to try to coax out of it something more musical than a bossa nova beat under a series of yappy dog barks. It didn't take me long to pick out the melody of the Sesame Street theme song. It was then that my parents, impressed by my meager ability to play by ear, suggested piano lessons. I figured that if I could learn how to play a song so quickly, it wouldn't be long before I became a master musician. There were just a couple of problems with this. First of all, playing the piano - really playing it - was a lot harder than I'd suspected. Secondly, all I had to practice on at home was a tiny keyboard without enough keys for a proper two-octave range and without any way to achieve the desired dynamics of a song. Each note played at exactly the same volume and for exactly the same duration. I needed a piano.

My own early musical experience is the most obvious reason that I relate so strongly to Zoe Elias, the narrator of Linda Urban's outstanding debut novel, A Crooked Kind of Perfect. Instead of a pygmy keyboard, aspiring concert pianist Zoe has a clunky Perfectone D-60 organ. It has more range than my Casio did, but it's hardly the elegant instrument she dreams of playing. Still, it's hers, and she's determined to make do with what she has, to take advantage of the free lessons that came with the organ, to travel the roundabout road to Carnegie Hall. She will not let her dream deferred dry up.

Nonetheless, her young life is littered with disappointments. Her mom is a workaholic who rarely seems to take time for her daughter. Her dad's extreme anxiety keeps him cooped up in the house most of the time, and if it's up to him to get her somewhere, chances are that she won't be able to go. The teacher who comes with her organ is not the beneficent maestro of her imagination. Her "best friend" Emma has selected a new best friend more compatible with her social status. It isn't easy being a 10-year-old.

A Crooked Kind of Perfect is a middle-grade novel, written for the 8- to 12-year-old set. Most of the chapters range in length from one to three pages; they're not numbered, but each has a title, which sometimes is the funniest part of the whole chapter. And oh, is this book funny. Part of the humor comes from Zoe's matter-of-fact observations. For instance, after reading her organ's enthusiastic instruction manual, she advises, "Never trust an exclamation point." Good advice in general, hilarious in context, and an early indication of the book's theme that appearances aren't necessarily an indication of quality. The writing tends to be terse, with the occasional paragraph-length sentence illustrating a chaotic situation. She makes every word count, so it's a breeze to read.

Urban offers as stinging an indictment of elementary school groupthink as I've ever seen. Like Zoe, I never felt as though I fit in very well with my peers, and I was baffled by some of the trends that were supposed to be an indicator of coolness. I suspect that Emma was given the last name Dent intentionally, as an illustration of the following sentiment expressed by Zoe's hero, pianist Vladimir Horowitz: "Perfection itself is imperfection."

While Zoe may be made to feel like an outsider, she is hardly alone in the world. My favorite relationship in the book is her bond with her dad, a man of many idiosyncrasies whose affection and knack for finding fun in every situation make up for his crippling social phobia. He fills his days with courses from an online university, classes with funny names like Golden Gloves: Make a Mint Coaching Boxing and Roger, Wilco, Over, and Cash! Learn to Fly Like the Pros. Zoe and her dad fulfill the classes' requirements together, having a blast along the way, and once in a while, something comes along that actually has practical applications.

At school, Zoe finds an unexpected confidante in class clown Wheeler Diggs. When he starts following her home - something Emma never did - and taking up baking with her dad, she realizes that there's a lot more to him than meets the eye. He's rough around the edges, but he's somebody she can genuinely have fun with. Later, Perform-O-Rama brings her into proximity to Mona, a girl who demonstrates that sometimes, that which glitters is gold. Mona reminds me very much of my class's valedictorian in high school: extremely intelligent and accomplished and still unfailingly kind to those around her.

Of course, with the narrative shaped around Zoe's six-month journey from the acquisition of her organ to her participation in Perform-O-Rama, her organ instructor is crucial to her development. At first, Mabelline Person seems like a letdown, but she turns out to be a diligent and encouraging teacher. She's a brusque, no-nonsense sort of woman with a subtle sarcastic streak, and she peppers her speech with colorful composer-inspired colloquialisms like "Great mother of Mozart" and "Tchaikovsky's checkbook." Perhaps her most important lesson is this: "You have some talent and you work hard. I'll take that over prodigy any day."

The book's extended metaphor for the titular concept is Neil Diamond's Forever in Blue Jeans. Ironically, Zoe chooses the song as her piece for Perform-O-Rama because Diamond's name reminds her of the tiara she envisions wearing in her Carnegie Hall debut. I was tickled about her song selection because I became a Diamond fan not too long after I started playing the piano, and this was one of the songs that won me over. But it wasn't until later that I realized how incredibly appropriate it is for her situation. It takes her even longer, since it isn't until nearly the end of the book that she hears the words to the opening verse for the first time. Up until that point, she fills in her own lines, revealing herself to be a budding lyricist and making the song an even better fit because this book is all about making your own kind of music. Zoe comes to discover that elegance as an end unto itself is of little value and that a true friend respects the things that make you unique. The final sign of how she has grown over the past six months? The first chapter, a gauzy vision of crowds enraptured by her glistening presence at Carnegie Hall, is entitled How It Was Supposed to Be. The heading of the last chapter, whose beauty is of the much more ordinary variety, is How It Is Supposed to Be.

I would heartily encourage any school-age child taking up a musical instrument for the first time to read A Crooked Kind of Perfect, but I certainly don't restrict my recommendation to that specific demographic. This book could be equally valuable to children embarking on any sort of endeavor, whether it's sports or art, not to mention navigating the twisty hallways of elementary education. And I know I'm not the only adult to find this book thoroughly endearing; I picked it up on the strength of an endorsement from my friend Beth, and I've since encouraged my parents and a couple of friends to check it out. I suspect I will read it again soon. But first, I have a piano to dust off.

Sunday, February 1, 2009

Nancy Hanks: Kentucky Girl Offers Insight Into Lincoln's "Angel Mother"

"All that I am, or hope to be, I owe to my angel mother." So said Abraham Lincoln, the sixteenth President of the United States. Though Nancy Hanks Lincoln died when her son was only nine years old, she had a profound impact upon his life, which makes her a fascinating subject of historical study. Though I can't remember a time when I wasn't intrigued by Abraham Lincoln, my knowledge of his mother's life was pretty limited until I recently read Nancy Hanks: Kentucky Girl, written by Augusta Stevenson and illustrated by Gray Morrow.

This 200-page book is part of the series Childhood of Famous Americans, which includes dozens of simple biographies of historical figures. When I checked this book out of the library, the librarian gushed, "Oh, I loved these books when I was growing up! I must have read them all!" Seeing this musty volume which had been tucked away at an outlying branch brought back all sorts of memories for her and encouraged me that this would be an engaging read.

The first thing I noticed about the book was the large print, which reminded me of those kiddie adaptations of classic novels that I used to find at the dollar store. There are 14 chapters, most of which include at least one illustration taking up all or most of the page. These pictures use a color palette of either bronze or crimson; they're not very colorful, but they're effective at dramatizing important scenes.

The book is a fairly breezy read. The chapters are lengthy enough that you could read one at a time and feel as though you'd consumed something substantial but short enough that you could read the whole book in one setting pretty easily. It took me about three hours. Stevenson's primary source of information is Nancy Hanks Lincoln: A Frontier Portrait, written by Harold and Ernestine Briggs. Her book is written with an immediacy that makes it read more like a novel than a biography. The chapters tend to be dialogue-heavy and keep most of the focus on Nancy and her young friends and cousins.

Among the interesting tidbits I picked up about the future Mrs. Lincoln were the following. Nancy lacked formal schooling but was passionate about literacy. She had a gift for storytelling. She loved animals and was especially fond of replicating the calls of birds. She had an eye for details, and her keen observations were sometimes very helpful to others. She demonstrated her commitment to compassion and honesty in sometimes dramatic ways.

There's nothing especially striking about the writing style. It feels a little old-fashioned, particularly in terms of certain word choices Stevenson makes, but by no means is it too antiquated to be accessible to modern-day youngsters - or not-so-youngsters like me who could use a quick overview of the life of a woman who helped shape a legendary leader. A woman who first was a girl who faced a unique set of challenges but whose personality was not so different than many a modern child.

A section in the back relates events in Nancy's life with historical benchmarks. It also suggests relevant activities such as building a cardboard pioneer settlement or learning some songs that Nancy and her friends may have sung when they were growing up. There's a list of other books focusing on Lincoln, his mother and their times, and a glossary of unusual words finishes out the book. This book would fit in wonderfully in an elementary school library or classroom; I can so clearly picture it on the bookshelves in my fifth grade class that I wonder whether it was actually there - though if it had been, I can't imagine that I wouldn't have read it. If I had, I would have gained just a little more insight into my favorite president and a deeper appreciation of the mentors who were so instrumental in shaping his life.

I'm thinking a lot about Abraham Lincoln these days. He's always been a favorite historical figure, and because we happen to share a birthday, whenever mine rolls around I 'm inclined to think about his too. This year is especially significant. February 12, 2009 marks his 200th birthday, and in celebration I'll be spending the month reading up on Lincoln, watching movies about him and doing whatever I can to study this man and contemplate his legacy. I invite my fellow members to join me by submitting one or several reviews on the subject of Lincoln. Books are particularly fertile ground; they number in the hundreds. But that's hardly the only relevant category. I hope to post reviews in Movies, Music, Kids and Family and Travel, and there are all sorts of possibilities. The Lincoln link doesn't have to be overt; there should just be some sort of connection. And I welcome Writer's Corner posts as well. If anyone would like to join in my Lincoln's 200th Birthday Bash, please leave me a comment or drop me an e-mail and I'll link you up. Happy February!

Liam Neeson Makes Taken an Adrenaline Rush With Heart

Last night, my friend Libbie treated her dad, her grandpa and me to the movies. She'd won four free movie tickets, and they expired at the end of January, so it was discouraging to discover that our chosen flick, Slumdog Millionaire, was sold out. We did not submit to despair, however. No, we opted for another movie, the previews for which had intrigued her dad. I knew nothing about Taken except that it involved some sort of abduction, but with a PG-13 rating, I figured it wouldn't be anything too intense for me to handle.

Pierre Morel's Taken is, as Libbie told me, "a guy movie." It's an adrenaline-pumping adventure all about one very driven man blasting bad guys in a desperate search for his daughter. That man is former spy Bryan Mills, portrayed by the always excellent Liam Neeson. Now he has retired in order to be closer to his 17-year-old daughter Kim, LOST's Maggie Grace, who lives with her aristocratic mother Lenore (Famke Janssen), whose new husband is fabulously wealthy. Now that she has the means to pamper Kim properly, Lenore rubs it in Bryan's face, but she needs his consent to send their daughter on a summer trip to Paris.

Bryan relents, but all too soon his worst fears about allowing two teenage girls to go to Europe on their own are realized when Kim witnesses the abduction of her friend while talking to him on the phone. He knows she's next; from this distance, he's powerless to protect her, but he vows to track her down and release her from her captors. He has occasional help in his quest; his longtime buddy and former colleague Sam (Leland Orser) provides valuable information on how to get started, and once he arrives in Paris he makes use of contacts there. But mostly he's on his own, relentlessly pursuing anyone involved in the trafficking of teenage girls as prostitutes.

The subject matter is gritty, and there are some disturbing scenes that show girls much like Kim in this disturbing and seemingly hopeless situation. Mostly, though, there's a lot of violence. I didn't keep a body count, but it probably numbered at least 20, with Bryan doing most of the maiming, whether with a gun, a blunt object or some formidable martial arts moves. With one notable exception, he tries to restrict himself to inflicting (sometimes fatal) injury only upon scumbags, but his ruthless streak leads to some squirmy scenes. I'm reminded of LOST's Michael, who witnesses his son's abduction and must come to terms with just how far he is willing to go to retrieve him. Neeson is flinty in this role, seemingly remorseless about the mess he makes en route to his daughter.

While I didn't care for the barrage of violence, especially at times when it seemed avoidable, I found it difficult to fault Bryan very much for his methods when so much is at stake. The strength of his devotion to his daughter is this character's most prominent trait, which makes him quite sympathetic, particularly in scenes that allow him to bestow fatherly care upon other young women in distress. Grace is in the film relatively little, but I enjoyed her rapport with Neeson and found her, on the whole, more likable than the preening Shannon Rutherford, the character with whom I associate her. She stretches believability by playing a character nearly a decade younger than her but brings a giddy girlishness to the role that makes it work.

The movie leaves some questions unanswered, concerning itself little with the wider consequences of Bryan's mad run through Paris. Does he bring about liberation for the victims he discovers en route to Kim? Are there any legal repercussions for all the crimes he committed? By that same token, there are contrivances in the plot, particularly in the beginning. But if you want edge-of-your seat action, Taken delivers, and with enough heart to satisfy a softie like me.