"Truly Blessed and Duly Grateful" - Bethesdalily's Gratitude Write-Off

I'm breaking in my brand-new laptop with a list of things I'm thankful for, as encouraged by Bethesdalily, whose write-off has caused bursts of blessings to blossom throughout Epinions like bright November flowers. It seems like a sure way to get this new piece of equipment off to a good start. I hope it lasts me as long as the first one, which I received for my 25th birthday, did. While I hated to retire that one, I can't help being grateful for the timing, as it finally went kaput just before Black Friday, allowing me to get the replacement at the most affordable time of the year. I'm grateful, too, that I had enough in the bank to cover it. But then, I have a lot to be grateful for, as I do every year. Big fan of quotes that I am, I thought it might be fun to compile a few gratitude quotes and use them as a jumping-off point for this very worthwhile exercise. So here we go...

“A thankful heart is a happy heart. I'm glad for what I have; that's an easy way to start.” Isn't it, though? This is a line from the VeggieTales video Madame Blueberry, the main song of which is a litany of gratitude concluding with, “That's why I say thanks every day.” I don't always remember to do that, but I should. I have friends who make it a point to regularly compile lists of things for which they're thankful, and it always brightens my day to read them and also to realize that I could list a lot of those same things. When things aren't going so well, give it a whirl, and I bet it will make you feel better. No matter how bad things get, there's always something to be grateful for.

“I guess I was raised never to question my blessings.” This is a line from Rose, the sage woman who is one of my favorite characters on LOST. I wish the show had used her more often; an extra dose of her serenity could have gone a long way in all that frenzy. Rose is all about acceptance. When life throws bad things her way, she bears it gracefully. And when something good comes along, she views it as a gift. Everything is a blessing or, at worst, a trial to be weathered with the help of those things and people that are blessings. It's a good way to look at life. And let me just take this opportunity to say that no 2010 gratitude reflection from me would be complete without mentioning LOST, a show that has provided me with so much intellectual and spiritual stimulation, that has deepened several friendships, that sparked the most intense creative period of my life and that gave me so many wonderful characters to fall in love with. LOST lost this fangirl money, but everything I gained far made up for the dent in my wallet.

“Thank you for this precious day, these gifts you give to me. My heart, so full of love for you, sings praise for all I see.” Isn't that a beautiful thought? It's from one of John Denver's loveliest songs, Falling Leaves, which uses this expansive gratitude as a jumping-off point for supplication on behalf of others. It's a song that discusses how wonderful the world can be but then acknowledges how many people in the world are disenfranchised. It makes me think of those St. Jude's Children's Hospital commercials: “Give thanks, and give...” If you truly have a grateful spirit, a natural outgrowth of that is to want to extend your blessings to those who could use a hand.

“Pick your diamond, pick your pearl, 'cause there is beauty in the world.” I just came upon this Macy Gray song within the last couple of months, as it's one that's in the regular rotation on the mall radio. Every time it comes on the air, I can't help grinning from ear to ear. It's just so life-affirming. I hear a lot about how much awful stuff is going on in the world today, and it just becomes very exhausting and dispiriting. This is a song that exuberantly encourages us to instead focus on the all that is right with the world. Each of us sees beauty in different things, but I think that everyone who takes the time to really look around can find something of beauty capable of brightening up the grayest day.

“For making me welcome, thank you.” This is the last line in the chorus of The Tinker, a gorgeous song by John Reynolds of the Irish Rovers. The speaker wanders from place to place, seeking shelter with strangers, and he always manages to find it. The kindness of others sustains him. It sustains all of us. We may not spend our lives as vagabonds, but how many times has your day been improved by a kind word or gesture from someone you randomly encounter? It happens to me all the time, and I hope that I've been on the other end of it, too. As a cashier at the mall, I try my best to treat every person I encounter with respect and friendliness. Sometimes folks just need someone to vent to, and I'm glad to be that person too. Any little thing I can do to make somebody's day a bit better, I try to do it; I know what a difference it makes when I'm on the receiving end, as I often am. You don't have to take someone into your home to be hospitable; just take them into your heart for a minute or two, and it can really have an impact.

“There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other.” This quote, from the first Harry Potter book, just makes me smile, and it's a great one for expressing the pleasure I've found in kindred spirits. When I was growing up, I often felt like an oddball. Epinions was one of the first sites I found after I really began immersing myself in the Internet, and I discovered that there are actually a lot of people out there who love the same things I do. This quote refers to a particularly powerful bonding experience, but I find that equally powerful is compatibility. As C. S. Lewis said, “Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another, 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one.'” I'm grateful to Epinions for introducing me to friends with whom I share something important, whether that's a beloved book, a favorite style of music, an engrossing TV show, an entertaining movie... You get the idea. I'm glad Epinions has given me a platform to write about these things and has introduced me to wonderful friends who understand just where I'm coming from.

“I thank you for the kindness and the times when you got tough, and Papa, I don't think I've said 'I love you' near enough.” The late great Dan Fogelberg honored his father with Leader of the Band, one of my favorite songs ever and an exercise in gratitude if I ever heard one. Like him, I'm lucky enough to have wonderful parents, and I'm sure I don't tell them that often enough. As Abraham Lincoln said, “Everything I am or ever hope to be, I owe to my angel mother.” I can't imagine better parents than the ones I have. I owe them everything.

“Thank you for being a friend.” The Golden Girls has one of the best theme songs ever, and I'm happy to repeat it here. I have some pretty fantastic friends. Some have been a part of my life for as long as I can remember; some came along much later. Some of them I've never even met. If you got all of them together in one room, you'd have an eclectic mix indeed, but all of them have contributed greatly to my happiness. I'm grateful for Facebook, too, for helping me to keep in contact with many of them.

“I've got a hand holding my hand. It's not a hand you can see...” This is part of John Bucchino's Grateful, recorded by Art Garfunkel for his Across America concert in the 1990s. It's a beautiful song for Thanksgiving and the whole year, and I especially love this verse. It reminds me of several things. Footprints in the Sand. God's constant presence. Thestrals. J. K. Rowling's marvelous invention of creatures who perform an important service and can only be seen by those who have witnessed death. Harry initially sees them as grotesque, but they eventually serve as a reassurance that, as Dumbledore once told him, those who we've loved and lost never truly leave us. And Pushing Daisies. Ned and Charlotte love each other but can never touch. One of the many ways they come up with to cope is to hold their own hands at the same time, pretending they are holding each other's. A very sweet image for the ways that people separated by physical distance can stay connected.

“You are a very fine person, Mr. Baggins, and I am very fond of you, but you are only quite a little fellow in a wide world, after all.” My all-time favorite quote, it reminds me that I should be open to amazing things happening and willing to help them come about, but I should approach them with an attitude of humility. I should be grateful for being a part of them instead of just figuring they happened because I myself did something remarkable to bring them about. I hope I'm a fine person, but I'll never forget that I am quite a little fellow in a wide world, after all. And, as Bilbo acknowledged, “Thank goodness.”

Tangled: "All At Once, Everything Looks Different Now That I See You"

There’s an iconic moment in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast in which Belle, frustrated by the constraints placed upon her in a tiny town whose residents don’t understand her, runs out under an expansive sky, flinging herself in the grass and sending a shower of dandelion seeds dancing on the breeze. “I want adventure in the great wide somewhere,” she confesses. In Tangled, Disney’s brand-new animated musical starring Mandy Moore and Zachary Levi as the confined Rapunzel and the golden-hearted bandit who rescues her, we see the innocent beauty with the magnificent tresses experience a precise echo of that moment. She has just touched actual ground for the first time since she can remember and is ready to embrace the world.

Tangled is the story of a sedentary girl who is kept in check by the woman she believes is her mother, a girl who has learned to squelch any adventurous stirrings, which can only lead to trouble. Like LOST’s ultimate bad mother, the ancient woman who kidnapped the infant Rapunzel insists that she is protecting her, as well as the miraculous gift of her gleaming, healing hair, which she would rather hoard than share. The sweet young woman with the enormous emerald eyes mostly complies uncomplainingly, but it hasn’t escaped her notice that every year on her birthday, a parade of lanterns dominates the night sky. Could they have a connection to her? Might they serve as a bridge that will lead her to that indefinable something whose absence has always gnawed away at her?

Enter Flynn Ryder, a rough-and-tumble rogue who really isn’t. Rapunzel shows off her skill with a skillet, and not in the cooking sense, when he comes calling; this unconventional weapon proves very handy throughout the course of the film, and poor Flynn becomes quite intimately acquainted with it. The “Flynn” seems to recall Errol, the definitive Robin Hood and ultimate dashing hero. But in the wake of their disastrous meeting that recalls Shannon and Joseph’s introduction to each other in Ron Howard’s Far and Away, we come to understand that he is actually rather bumbling and unassuming when he lets his guard down. Of all the characters, he is the most expressive - with the possible exception of tiny chirping chameleon Pascal, who has the advantage of shifting colors to better broadcast his mood.

After he agrees to free Rapunzel so she can go follow the lanterns to their source on the night of her birthday, both begin a process of self-discovery as she learns to let go of fear and embrace new experiences and he searches inside himself for an aspect of his personality long buried. All the while, they draw ever closer to each other, culminating in a gorgeous duet, the film’s most luminous segment, during which it seems that all of their dreams are coming true, even ones that they had no idea that they had in the first place. “And at last I see the light, and it's like the fog has lifted. And at last I see the light, and it's like the sky is new. And it's warm and real and bright, and the world has somehow shifted...” A stunning scene. And who knew Zach Levi was such a fantastic singer?

Alan Menken is the creative genius behind so many great Disney musicals, most notably Beauty and the Beast; here, along with lyricist Glenn Slater, he shows that he’s still got the magic songwriting touch. The aforementioned I See the Light has instantly taken its place near the top of my list of favorite romantic Disney songs. Others make a big impression as well. I love the poppy, guitar-heavy When Will My Life Begin, which shows us just how busy Rapunzel manages to stay during her perpetual house arrest but conveys her yearning for more, recalling Part of Your World from The Little Mermaid. Moore’s exuberant performance of the reprise is especially affecting. Donna Murphy sounds appropriately villainous in the saucy Mother Knows Best, which reminded me of the raucous Master of the House from Les Miserables.

Meanwhile, the zany but inspirational I’ve Got a Dream is a rousing group number which starts off with Everybody Loves Raymond’s Brad Garrett showing off his surprising singing talent. A bunch of misunderstood misfits confess their innermost desires, allowing Flynn and Rapunzel to chime in as well, and it’s nice to know that the classic rowdy extended barroom song-and-dance number is not a thing of the past. The accordion-heavy tune and quirky lyrics are right in line with such Disney classics as I Swear I Saw a Dragon, Gaston and the slightly less well-known Let’s Have a Drink On It.

The movie, written by Dan Fogelman and directed by Nathan Greno and Byron Howard, is adventurous and romantic and funny all at once, with humor coming from all angles. We’ve got the purely visual humor of tiny Pascal and proud horse Maximus, whose changing relationship with Flynn is one of my favorite aspects of the movie. We’ve got plenty of pratfalls and nifty tricks with Rapunzel’s fantastic hair. There’s witty banter to spare, and all of the voice cast does an outstanding job. I was especially tickled to realize that the gruff captain of the guard is played by M. C. Gainey, known by LOST fans as the scruffy Tom Friendly. Other familiar voices included Jeffrey Tambor as one of the other soft-hearted hooligans Rapunzel and Flynn meet and Ron Perlman as Flynn’s nefarious ex-partner.

I watched this in 3D, and while there weren’t too many moments when I felt like it made a major difference, the movie on the whole is so lush and gorgeous that I’d probably say it’s worth it to spring for the glasses that give you just that much more of an immersive experience. There were many moments in the movie that I found genuinely breathtaking on purely a visual basis, and I definitely think that the attempt to marry the classic fairy tale feeling with more modern graphic techniques worked. I was never distracted by the method of animation; it just made me marvel.

Tangled is an exhilarating movie that takes viewers along for an epic quest as two characters seek a deeper understanding of who they really are. Hints of several previous Disney movies, along with Don Bluth’s Anastasia, linger, but this is a wholly original work with a lot of resonance for anyone who’s ever felt torn between the familiar and the novel. Rapunzel can now proudly stand amongst the previous Disney princesses, and I can breathe a sigh of relief as Disney demonstrates how successfully it can continue to mine fairy tales for compelling material. Contemporary but timeless, Tangled has classic written all over it.

TRON Is Intriguing But Disorienting

I’ve been hearing a lot about TRON, the geeky Disney cult classic whose sequel is about to hit theaters, and I decided that it was high time to familiarize myself with the first movie. It seems a little odd to me that I never watched it, as extensive as my Disney viewing has generally been, but it wasn’t a movie that ever really had much of a pull on me. It seemed a bit too... technological. Still, I was curious to check it out, which Dad and I did this past rainy Saturday afternoon. Since he teaches computer programming, I thought the movie would probably make more sense to him than to me, but ultimately both of us found it pretty disorienting.

Jeff Bridges stars as Kevin Flynn, a brilliant programmer who has been denied credit for his work. After his program starts to go haywire, he finds himself sucked into it, rather in the manner of Fantastic Voyage. Instead of being inside a person, he’s inside a program, and it’s up to him, along with some intrepid helpers, to get things running smoothly again. I’m mostly familiar with Bridges from later movies, where he always looks pretty scruffy and weathered, so it was interesting to see him here, so youthful and with a Steve Gutenberg-esque twinkle in his eye. He makes a good leading man and plays well opposite Bruce Boxleitner as Alan Bradley, whose in-program counterpart is Tron. As Tron, he’s pretty dashing and heroic, but I prefer the rather bumbling Alan with his gargantuan glasses. Cindy Morgan is a valuable ally to both as Lori / Yori, Alan / Tron’s spunky love interest.

The world within the computer program is very visually striking. When my dad went to rent this, the clerk warned him not to expect much in the way of special effects. What was cutting-edge at the time looks pretty dated now. I didn’t mind it in terms of looking cheesy, but the visuals actually kinda gave me a headache after a while. However, there are aspects of this world that look very cool, including the light cycles, whose geometrically precise races with each other remind me of the cellular automata programs Dad used to spend so much time working with. I also loved the appearance of the water that the characters inside the program drink to replenish their strength.

The world within the video game is dark and oppressive, which is mostly a reflection of the evil master control program that has overtaken it. I was intrigued when I saw that David Warner was in this movie, as his warm, humble Bob Cratchit is my hands-down favorite ever, while he convinced me of his range by completely repulsing me in Titanic. His role here is rather like the latter, and his icy delivery is mesmerizing. As performances go, I was also impressed with Barnard Hughes as Dr. Walter Gibbs, a kindly scientist whose video game counterpart serves as a guardian keeping riff-raff out, and Dan Shor moved me as Ram, a zealous idealist for whom Flynn’s presence represents a profound affirmation of all that he holds dear. There are some interesting philosophical ideas brought up throughout the movie, and Ram is at the heart of many of them.

While I liked several of the characters and found the premise intriguing, I found that more often than not, I didn’t have a very clear idea of what was happening and why. I found it hard to follow, with a whole lot of wandering around down dark corridors in a strange half-light. I knew what the ultimate goal was, but I didn’t really have a handle on the steps of the process. So for me, I liked the general plot and individual moments, but I had a hard time staying engaged.

I’m glad I watched TRON, and after seeing the trailer on the big screen when we went to see Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part I last night, I’m jazzed to see TRON Legacy. I just hope I find it a little easier to tell what’s going on.

Hilarious Performances and Sage Speeches Make Christmas in July a Gift

I love Netflix, the Internet DVD rental service that has been so helpful to me in expanding my movie knowledge, but at times I find it frustrating. This is especially true this time of year. From mid-November on, I have a keen interest in watching Christmas movies, but Netflix has no category set aside for seasonal flicks. The only way for me to browse such movies is to enter a Christmas-related keyword and hope for the best. This means that I’ve wound up with a lot of movies with “Christmas” in the title, the latest of which isn’t even a Christmas movie. However, despite getting off to a somewhat shaky start, it is quite a cute movie, so I don’t really mind the lack of seasonal connection.

Christmas in July, written and directed by Preston Sturges, is a short movie, barely more than an hour long. Released in 1940, it’s a black and white film that focuses upon Jimmy MacDonald (Dick Powell), a rather hot-headed young man obsessed with the thought of winning a slogan contest for a coffee company. I watched this just after watching That Thing You Do!, the fun Tom Hanks film about an Erie-based one-hit wonder band’s swift rise to fame, and I had to laugh when I realized the character’s name was Jimmy, as that’s also the name of that movie’s ultra-serious songwriter. This Jimmy reminded me a lot of him initially. He’s a sourpuss, he doesn’t seem very attentive to his girlfriend and he’s obsessed with making weird puns that nobody else really gets. I knew there was a romantic storyline, but I assumed Jimmy was the typical jerk boyfriend and that the main character would be a sweet guy who Jimmy’s current girlfriend would realize was much better for her. I was surprised, then, when I realized that Jimmy was the main character.

My biggest complaint with the movie would have to be this abrupt shift in characterization. For the first ten minutes or so, he comes across as argumentative and dismissive, and I found myself wondering why sweet, demure Betty (Ellen Drew) ever got together with him in the first place. And then he mentions his mom. And suddenly, he’s this incredibly sweet Mama’s boy who just wants to give his impoverished mother and his girlfriend the finer things in life. This desperation to do well by them is what drives him to such obnoxious behavior. He’s just stressed to the max. Still, the shift is so abrupt and complete that it gave me whiplash. Could’ve been handled a bit better if you ask me.

The movie’s premise is that, as a prank, some of Jimmy’s coworkers decide to send him a phony telegram informing him that he’s won this contest. Everything is so disorganized that when he goes in to claim the check, the president of the coffee company doesn’t question it, and Jimmy’s amazing streak of luck continues. It’s pretty silly and totally dependent on the complete incompetence of several people. Maxford House coffee company has been building up to a huge coffee slogan contest for ages, but on the day of the big announcement of the winner, they still haven’t chosen one, and their communication with the guy in charge is abhorrent. Everything about this setup, which is established early in the movie, exposes this company as very poorly run indeed. What ridiculous lack of planning!

But this is a comedy, so that’s okay, and Raymond Walburn is hilarious as Dr. Maxford, who, like J. Jonah Jameson in the Spider-Man movies, always seems about two seconds away from having a coronary. He revels in shouting at his underlings in the most animated of language, often employing strange metaphors like “a gang of horse whistles who wouldn't know a slogan from a poke in the eye with a stick!” When he’s not busy blowing a gasket, his dry sarcasm is just as funny.

Ernest Truex is a bit more restrained as J. B. Baxter, a higher-up at Jimmy’s company. He does have quite the temper, and he’s jumping to quick conclusions when we first see him, getting all worked up over Jimmy’s display of euphoria in the workplace. When he realizes why he’s so happy, however, all is forgiven, and Jimmy actually gets a promotion because of it. If he could win such a prestigious contest, then he must be good at coming up with slogans, even if they don’t make a lot of sense to Mr. Baxter. He’s a funny character because there’s so much artifice in what he does. Jimmy impresses him because somebody rich and important awarded him a prize, and he’s more inclined to trust that person’s opinions than his own. He’s a nice enough guy, a bit of a softie underneath a lot of bluster, but he’s a good example of what can be wrong with the world of business.

While Dr. Maxford is my favorite character by virtue of how very entertaining he is, the character I like the most is probably Jimmy’s immediate boss, the very level-headed E. L. Waterbury, who serves almost a Dumbledore role in this movie as he tries to mentor the jittery Jimmy. His little speech to him toward the beginning has deep resonance today in a time of economic crisis.

“I used to think about $25,000 too, and what I'd do with it. That I'd be a failure, if I didn't get a hold of it. And then one day I realized that I was never gonna have $25,000, Mr. MacDonald. And then another day... a little bit later - considerably later - I realized something else - something I'm imparting to you now, Mr. MacDonald. I'm not a failure. I'm a success. You see, ambition is all right if it works. But no system could be right where only half of one percent were successes and all the rest were failures - that wouldn't be right. I'm not a failure. I'm a success. And so are you, if you earn your own living and pay your bills and look the world in the eye.”

A good thing to remember.

The title comes from the scene in which Jimmy, having received his check, decides to play Santa Claus and buy presents for everybody in his neighborhood, an act of extravagant generosity that I wouldn’t have thought capable of that snappish grump in the opening. During this scene, one character refers to another as Hitler, and the name Mussolini is later tossed out. I found this interesting, considering the fact that World War II was just heating up at the time that this movie came out.

Christmas in July is a light-hearted movie about ambition and luck and where the two meet. It doesn’t have much to do with Christmas, but if you don’t mind a bit of silliness, it is pretty entertaining.

Oh, Bother! Someone's Grumpy! Wait - Make That Everyone!

Don’t you just hate it when a perfectly good day is marred by a case of the grumps? On many occasions, I’ve experienced the havoc that a contagious case of a sour mood can wreak. In Oh, Bother! Someone’s Grumpy!, this affliction has hit the Hundred-Acre Wood, and a gorgeous winter morning suddenly starts to look pretty grim indeed. There are several books in this series that teaches kids how to respond appropriately to various upsetting situations, but this one may be my favorite, as it’s so community-oriented. While one character is the catalyst, his grumpiness sets off a chain reaction that leaves most of the Hundred-Acre Wood in a huff.

Like other books in this series, Someone’s Grumpy! is written by Betty Birney, but it’s illustrated by Sue DiCicco, a different illustrator than the one responsible for the two other Oh, Bother! books I have. I honestly can’t tell the difference, though. The characters look pretty much the same in this book as in the others, and the backgrounds are just as detailed. I’m sure a great effort was made to keep the look consistent throughout the series.

Since the book is so focused on changing emotions, it’s interesting to observe the faces of the various characters and see how their expressions alter from page to page. DiCicco does a great job with this, making it easy to watch the progression from happy to annoyed to downright irritable. Pooh and his friends are good at sharing things, but a bad mood is something that is best not spread around. Reading this book could spark an awareness of how one’s own emotions affect others, prompting young readers to make more of an effort to roll with the punches.

This book includes seven characters, with Rabbit, Kanga and Gopher missing. It would have been easy to incorporate them too, since Rabbit and Gopher are rather easily aggravated and I could see Kanga getting exasperated with a cantankerous Roo, but maybe that would have dragged the Galloping Grumps out a little too long.

That alliterative phrase is how Christopher Robin describes what has happened to his friends; he’s the only one in the book unaffected by it. He points out that cheerfulness can cure a rampant case of the Grumps, since it happens to be just as contagious; from that point, the residents are able to come up with some methods of their own for spreading good cheer. The final convert is Eeyore, who, unsurprisingly enough, was the one who started the chain of misery.

Oh, Bother! Someone’s Grumpy! presents an important lesson, but it also entertains. It gets my vote as the funniest of the books in this series, at least of the ones I’ve read, very effectively showing how one bad mood can snowball and infect everyone else’s outlook.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part I Could Use a Little More Soul

The end of the Harry Potter film series draws near. Today, I am one movie closer to the conclusion, having just seen the seventh book in the theaters. I admit I raised an eyebrow when I found out that there would be eight Harry Potter movies; after all, seven is the most magically powerful number, and its symbolic significance in the series is immense. On the other hand, I liked the idea of having an extra movie to look forward to. But I should have taken it as an early indication that when it comes to really getting to the soul of the series, the moviemakers haven’t got it quite right.

I’ve been lenient with the Harry Potter movies so far, understanding that it’s a tricky business to pull off a faithful adaptation and that everyone will want to see something different. I went into this movie prepared to overlook some odd interpretive choices, but I wasn’t ready for the extent of the differences. While the movie, helmed by David Yates, is well-acted and often intense, I couldn’t help feeling as though the soul was largely sapped out of it. Some spoilers follow as I try to dissect what didn’t work for me, as well as what did.

Back when I watched the sixth movie, I was disappointed that my favorite line in the book - Dumbledore’s “I am not worried, Harry; I am with you” - didn’t make it into the film, and I feared that my favorite line in the seventh book would suffer a similar fate. Not only did we not hear Harry say, “I won’t blast people out of my way just because they’re there; that’s Voldemort’s job,” the moment that precipitated it was left out entirely. Instead of Harry being exposed to Voldemort through an act of mercy, it’s through the bravery of another character, who goes out in a blaze of sacrificial glory. I get that screenwriter Steve Kloves wanted to give this character a more dramatic exit, but the whole thing that made that death so shocking was that this was a bystander helplessly caught in the crossfire. The death in the book was symbolic of an end to Harry’s childhood and an indication of dark times to come, when many innocents would be callously slaughtered.

The movie sets that oppressive tone from the start, but for the most part, we see very little of the effect that Voldemort is having in the world at large. We are almost completely disconnected. There’s no Patronus that greets Harry and his friends with news when they take shelter in Sirius’s house. No tense visit from Remus Lupin, whose seeming indifference toward his family inspires such rage in Harry in the book. No bumping into Arthur Weasley at the Ministry of Magic. No overhearing Tonks’ dad, fellow student Dean Thomas and goblin Griphook in the forest. No recollection from Ron of his sojourn with his brother Bill and his new bride Fleur over Christmas. No secret Potter Watch broadcast. And no liberation of throngs of half-blood wizards at the Ministry of Magic, though at least we get a clear sense that Ron feels responsibility for the man whose form he is imitating and his family. Still, as isolated as Harry, Ron and Hermione are in the book, so much is stripped away here that we almost forget how intimately their mission is tied to the fate of the world.

Of the scenes in the first part of the book that I felt a strongest pull toward, few remained intact. Most were altered, sometimes subversively, while others were omitted entirely. No interaction at all between Dudley and Harry. No discovery of a long-ago letter from Harry’s mother in Sirius’s house. Harry shows up at the wedding of Bill and Fleur as himself; instead of Luna’s piercing gaze recognizing her disguised friend instantly, we have her tell her father to leave Harry alone because he really doesn’t want to talk to them right now but is too polite to say so. By the same token, the vibrant mural inside her house depicting her friends makes no appearance in the movie. Kreacher’s gripping tale loses all context and urgency, and we have no understanding of how deeply he cared for his master, how heinously Voldemort used him, how dramatically this bitter old servant changed in the face of Harry and Hermione’s empathy. Once they’ve escaped the Ministry, we don’t see Ron “fretting over the fate of the Cattermoles.” Voldemort’s confrontation with Grindelwald is presented in such a manner that we get no sense of remorse or wisdom from Dumbledore’s old nemesis; he merely comes across as crazed and easily relinquishes the information Voldemort seeks.

Of all the changes to the movie, I’m pretty sure the one that rankles the most with this Potterphile raised on Tolkien is the death of one particular sniveling follower of the Dark Lord. This character dies at the same time, in the same place, as in the book, but the circumstances disregard one of the most important payoffs in the series. In the book, this moment recalls the time in the third book when Dumbledore told Harry that he might one day be very glad that he spared this man’s life, much as Gandalf told Frodo not to bemoan Bilbo’s act of pity in sparing Gollum. A long-ago act of mercy has powerful ripples late in the game, yet another of the book’s pervasive reminders of Harry’s fundamental decency. But in the movie, he merely dies of a projectile to the back, and there’s no indication of a spark of gratitude or hesitation in the face of the boy who once stood up for him despite his deadly betrayal.

Along with all of these individual moments, there’s the fact that key plot points just don’t get very sufficient explanation. At the end of the movie, my mom, who hasn’t read the books, didn’t have a sense that Dumbledore was carrying a lot of skeletons around in his closet. She thought the bit of mirror we see Harry use to summon help was a piece of the Mirror of Erised from the first movie. She didn’t understand what the Hallows and Horcruxes had to do with each other. This last one seems especially egregious. Harry has no time whatsoever to reflect on his new knowledge of the Hallows; as soon as he finds out about them, he’s whisked off to his next crisis, so there’s no time for an obsession with them to fester and burrow into his spirit. In his final scene, there’s no sense of him making a conscious choice between pursuing the power represented by the Hallows and seeking the Horcruxes as instructed by Dumbledore. Maybe that will come in the eighth movie. But I’m not so sure.

None of this is to say that there was nothing enjoyable about the movie. Daniel Radcliffe was appropriately intense as Harry, and I was even more impressed with Emma Watson as vulnerable but mature Hermione. Of the trio, Rupert Grint impressed me most; he’s really come into his own in the last couple of movies, and after all his comedic hi-jinks in the sixth movie, he has a much darker road to travel here, spending a good portion of the movie surly and drained of all joy. Evanna Lynch is luminous in her later scenes that demonstrate Luna’s capacity for respect and kindness, and Tom Felton’s nearly wordless performance is effective in conveying how unsettled Draco Malfoy, Harry’s schoolyard enemy, is now that Voldemort is holding sway. Jason Isaacs, usually so silkily sneering as Draco’s father Lucius, is scarcely recognizable here, so haggard and haunted is his countenance.

Several new characters are briefly introduced, with Rhys Ifans making the biggest impression as Luna’s eccentric father Xenophilius. Also noteworthy is Andy Linden’s slimy Mundungus Fletcher and Guy Henry’s poised, poisonous Pius Thicknesse. I confess myself disappointed with Matyelok Gibbs’ portrayal of Auntie Muriel, though part of that is down to the screenplay - and the screenplay in general leaves a lot to be desired. She comes across as a gossipy old woman, but we get no sense of just how mean-spirited she is, and all the comedic aspects of her character vanish. Of course, much of that is tied in with the wedding ceremony itself, which we never get to see; we only get a small peek at the reception. I was also disappointed in our one glimpse of Neville; it’s meant to show us he’s got gumption, but instead he just comes across as foolhardy.

There were a few added scenes that I actually quite enjoyed. I liked the fact that one of the first things we see in the movie is Hermione at home, a sight never before afforded by the books or films, and we witness her Obliviation of her parents, erasing her presence from their memories. We hear about it in the book after the fact, but it’s powerful to see here, and it really establishes her emotional state, as well as her ability to put those emotions aside in service of her mission. I also thought the scene of her and Harry dancing together in a rare moment of unguarded giddiness was a nice addition, especially since the mood immediately turns somber afterward. Even more than that, I loved the little scene at Sirius’s house in which she tries to teach Ron how to play Fur Elise on the piano. Another great moment has George sauntering into the Weasley kitchen while Harry and Ginny share an enthusiastic kiss and observing them with a smirk. The cluelessness of the headphones-wearing waitress the trio encounter as they flee Death Eaters also made me smile. Moments like this may not have been in the book, but they felt authentic.

More iconic scenes were handled well too. The Seven Potters in the living room was warm and wonderful, a comic high point of the movie.  While I was annoyed at the implication that Harry, Ron and Hermione basically blundered into their Ministry break-in rather than carefully planning it for days, I thought most of that segment was handled well and certainly was action-packed.  The Christmas scene in the churchyard, with the singing of the choir drifting out from the church and the snow swirling 'round and Hermione comforting Harry and creating a wreath of flowers for his parents' grave, was quite moving, and I was pleasantly surprised to see the inscription on their gravestone intact, though most who hadn't read the book probably wouldn't have known what it said, as the stone is hard to read and neither Harry nor Hermione mentions it. 

The destruction of the locket Horcrux is a thrilling, albeit rather terrifying and steamy, sequence. The Tale of the Three Brothers slows down the movie, I suppose, but I enjoyed Watson’s narration of it, accompanied by eerie animation. This comes in the midst of the trio’s meeting with Xeno, one of the most intense scenes in the film.  Everything that happens from that point on is pretty riveting, but what I was most interested in was the final scene involving Harry and his friends. More than anything else, I was anxious to know whether this scene would come across properly. Although a few details changed, Kloves and Yates do it justice. It made me cry, no easy feat for the girl with the defective tear ducts. The beauty of the setting and Alexandre Desplat’s score in this scene contributed to the near-perfect ending - though I do find it odd that we’ve still been given no indication that I heard as to who owns this cottage that serves as such convenient refuge. The scene is still better in the book, but the movie version is almost as affecting.

A lot happens in this movie. It never felt to me like it dragged, which was a complaint I’ve heard from a couple of people; of course, I have always had a rather high tolerance for people wandering around in the woods in movies and books. What bothered me wasn’t the pacing; it was the priorities. Most of the things that seemed to me to be most important about the first portion of the seventh book don’t make it into the movie. Hence, while a lot of care went into Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Part I and I still enjoyed the film for what it was, this dark adaptation that disregards most of the book’s most spiritually stimulating moments demonstrates more effectively than any of the others that the movies are no substitutes for the books.

Roo's Too Bouncy for Tigger's Liking in Oh, Bother! Someone's Jealous!

When it comes to bouncing, nobody is more accomplished than Tigger. Or that’s what he thinks, anyway, and the others in the Hundred-Acre Wood are inclined to agree. But in Oh, Bother! Someone’s Jealous!, written by Betty Birney and illustrated by Nancy Stevenson, Tigger discovers that he is not the best bouncer in the forest, and it’s not so easy to be taken down a peg, even if the new champion isn’t rubbing it in his face.

This book is one of a line of Pooh books dealing with destructive habits or feelings common in childhood. Well, adulthood too! But the hope is that kids will read these stories and be a little less inclined to act the way that each book’s central character does before undergoing a change of heart.

Here, Tigger is out for a day of fun with Pooh, Piglet and Roo. It’s a beautiful spring day, and that makes him feel springy, so he suggests a morning of hill-bouncing to his friends. Pooh and Piglet don’t quite have the knack, but Roo gets to the top of the hill in fewer bounces than Tigger; those great big kangaroo feet come in handy! He’s built for bouncing, even more than Tigger is. And even though the two are best buddies, Tigger doesn’t like it.

The book shows Tigger working through his jealousy in a couple of different ways. First, after storming off in a huff, he encounters Owl, who offers to help him work on his bouncing skills. There’s no need to be jealous when you’re on top again, after all. This demonstrates how a sense of competition can be a powerful motivator. But it backfires on Tigger, who comes to realize that as good as he is at bouncing, Roo is just a little bit better. At that point, it takes a pep talk and a willingness to humble himself for Tigger to let go of his jealousy and just enjoy the day with his bouncy young friend.

Birney writes the book well, with all of the characters acting in very believable ways, from sage Christopher Robin to innocent Roo, who doesn’t understand why his pal is abandoning him. Stevenson’s illustrations are great as well, colorful and nicely shaded. Everything is so vibrant that it’s clear the book is set during springtime. While not every character turns up in this book, the only ones missing are Kanga and Gopher, and each contributes to the story in some way.

Oh, Bother! Someone’s Jealous! is a cute book that tackles an issue many children face frequently. Jealousy is a tough emotion to avoid, but maybe kids who have read this book will be just a little bit less likely to lash out against someone whose abilities make them turn an unattractive shade of green.

Roo Discovers the Value of an Uncluttered Room in Oh, Bother! Someone's Messy!

When it comes to keeping things neat and tidy, I am not exactly a Felix Unger. Keeping one’s room clean is a theme that comes up rather often in picture books, and I always empathize with the character whose messy room is getting out of control. In the book Oh, Bother! Someone’s Messy!, written by Betty Birney and illustrated by Nancy Stevenson, that someone is Roo, the youngest resident of the Hundred-Acre Wood. It comes as little surprise that this rambunctious youngster isn’t too keen on cleaning up, but this is not a situation that is to the liking of his mother, Kanga. Something must be done.

This book reminds me a bit of a story from one of the Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle books. That intermediate series involved a magical, mirthful woman with a knack for knowing just what is needed to resolve a behavioral problem in one of the neighborhood children who frequent her house. In one installment, she encouraged the mother of an extremely messy child to allow the mess in his room to build up, to the point that his only way out would be to clean things up. The strategy worked, with a little help from a very alluring parade organized by Mrs. Piggle-Wiggle to make him especially anxious to go outside.

Roo’s room never gets to the inescapable point, but Kanga does decide to take a similar approach. She’ll let Roo mess up his room, and eventually, it’ll stop being fun and start being a bother. That’s her thinking, anyway, and her thinking turns out to be pretty wise. Free reign to make a mess seems like a dream come true at first, but a couple of hours of hard play with Tigger and Pooh on a rainy afternoon causes him to think otherwise, especially after the mud pies he brings in cause everything to become dirty and gooey. What’s more, when he leaves the house, stuffy Owl and gloomy Eeyore note that he’s tracking his toys all over the woods, and Piglet won’t let him bring his stuff in his spick and span house.

Piglet definitely does come across as a Felix Unger here, which I found a little odd, since Rabbit is the one who is usually so persnickety about such things. Piglet is tidy, but he doesn’t usually complain much if other people aren’t. But Rabbit doesn’t turn up in this book at all; maybe he was on vacation, forcing Piglet to step in as the Wood’s biggest neatnik. Christopher Robin isn’t involved in this one either, which I don’t mind, as it demonstrates that Pooh and the gang are capable of solving problems on their own once in a while.

While I don’t think that it’s absolutely necessary for a house to be quite as spotless as Piglet’s, Oh, Bother! Someone’s Messy! shows that a little organization can go a long way toward making a home - and a bedroom - more livable.

Letters Make the World Shrink in Dear Pen Pal

When I was a kid, I really wanted a pen pal. Oh, I had a cousin out of town who I’d write to now and then, but I wanted a friendship forged entirely from pen and paper with someone on the other side of the country or the world. It wasn’t until the past decade, with my immersion in the Internet, that this longing was fulfilled, and I have delighted in making dozens of friends online, a few of whom I feel as though I’ve known my whole life. And of that select group, I’ve actually gone on to meet four. What a thrill that was! I hope there are more meetings to come.

In Dear Pen Pal, the third book in the Mother-Daughter Book Club intermediate series by Heather Vogel Frederick, Emma Hawthorne, the character with whom I most identify, embraces the pen pal experience as whole-heartedly as I would have if I’d gotten my act together and found a pen pal at that age. The others in the club? Not so much. Writing a letter feels too much like homework. And what makes their mothers think they have anything in common with these girls way out in Wyoming, anyway? But as the year wears on, they come to find comfort in the idea of confiding in an unseen friend hundreds of miles away, especially when they have a lot on their minds.

Of the four books in the series thus far, Dear Pen Pal is the only one that is focused on a book with which I had no prior familiarity. I need to read Daddy Longlegs one of these days; Frederick certainly makes it sound appealing. While I did miss the fun of picking up on all of the references to the book that the mothers and daughters are reading together, I was wholly in love with the series at this point and didn’t need the tie-in to a beloved novel to keep me engaged.

A lot is happening in this installment. It’s eighth grade, a big year for the girls, who include bookish Emma, shy farm girl Jess Delaney, tomboyish hockey player Cassidy Sloane, artistic only child Megan Wong and flirtatious Becca Chadwick. Becca is really more of a side player, since she’s the only one of the book club daughters not to narrate her own chapter, but she’s still worth mentioning, since after two books’ worth of hostility, she’s finally been successfully integrated into this group. She still occasionally exhibits catty behavior, but on the whole, these girls have resolved their issues with each other.

But one thing that every book in the series has is at least one snotty girl who makes life miserable for one or more of the book club members. This time, it’s Savannah, Jess’s roommate at the prestigious girls’ boarding school she reluctantly agreed to attend. Jess is very shy, though less withdrawn than at the beginning of the series, so it’s a real struggle for her to embrace this new challenge at first, even though she’s a brilliant student. Stuck-up Senator’s daughter Savannah doesn’t help. But might there be more to her than meets the eye?

Each of the girls has challenges to face this year as big changes come into their lives. For Emma, it’s been a pretty good year, since she has a boyfriend - or “sort-of boyfriend,” anyway - in quiet, bumbling kindred spirit Stewart, Becca’s brother. Plus, she’s grown closer to grandmotherly Eva Bergson, a former Olympic ice skater who is giving her lessons. Eva has a great gift for encouraging others, and she urges Emma to use her writing skills to protest the unpopular new uniforms at her school. I confess myself surprised that the uniform bothered Emma; like her, I have never been fashion-conscious, and it was a relief to me to get to high school and find that I no longer had to worry about getting made fun of for my wardrobe. I would’ve thought the same would apply to her. Maybe she just empathizes with her more stylish pals, particularly Megan.

Megan’s grandmother Gigi becomes fast friends with Eva, particularly after both of them begin joining in on the book club meetings. Gigi is from Hong Kong, and she loves fashion just as much as Megan does. Indeed, they seem to have just about everything in common, while Megan and her mom are exact opposites. This year, Megan reminded me very much of Claudia, the Japanese girl in the Babysitters’ Club series who is artistic, whose parents don’t approve of her aspirations and who is especially close to her grandmother. Gigi becomes a permanent part of the household, but the squabbles between her and her daughter intensify, and just as Megan was caught in the cross-fire between Becca and her book club buddies in the second book, she’s stuck in the middle here as well.

Never having had a sibling, she’s jealous of Cassidy, whose recently married mother announces that a baby is on the way. But while Cassidy is grudgingly coming to accept the presence of her mild-mannered stepfather Stanley, she is disgusted by the prospect of a baby and glowers whenever anyone mentions it. Though she hates to admit it, she also is having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that her sister Courtney will be going off to college in the fall. While they’ve had a rocky relationship at times, her impending departure makes her realize how important Courtney is to her.

Through it all, they write to their pen pals, who write back with dramas and dreams of their own, and this book follows the pattern set by the others by concluding with a big trip, this time to Wyoming so they can all meet each other and connect on another level. It’s an engrossing book deepened by the expansion of focus into three generations instead of just two. There is a certain rhythm to these books that makes some of the events fairly predictable, but I don’t mind that, since the novel takes us in such wonderful directions, and occasionally it pulls off a surprise or two as well.

The entire series is a testament to the power of the written word to bring people together, but there’s a deeper layer of that here, with so much of the writing and reading in this book being a true dialogue. It just goes to show that there are many ways to make friends - but keeping them will always involve the same type of kindness and consideration that these imperfect but endearing girls display in their best moments.

Straight No Chaser Delivers Another Dose of Yuletide Harmony With Christmas Cheers

On November 29th, my parents and I will be going to see Straight No Chaser in concert, which I expect to be an explosively fun experience. We bought the tickets over the summer - though I’m kicking myself a bit that I didn’t get them the day they were announced, as we probably could’ve scored seats in the first couple of rows. Still, no matter where we wind up in that cozy theater, I know the hall will be alive with the sound of music, and it will wash over us just fine.

Given the fact that this is a post-Thanksgiving concert and that two of Straight No Chaser’s albums thus far have been Christmas releases, I’m going to take a leap and presume that a majority of the songs will be Christmassy in nature. If that’s not the case, I won’t mind; whatever these guys sing is gonna sound fantastic. But I confess I’m hoping for an extra dose of Holiday Spirits, along with this second album, Christmas Cheers, which was released in 2009 and features Ryan Ahlwardt, Walter Chase, Jerome Collins, Seggie Isho, Michael Luginbill, Charlie Mechling, Dan Ponce, David Roberts, Randy Stine and Tyler Trepp.

Straight No Chaser burst into the public consciousness in 2007 with their nearly decade-old performance of a seriously skewered version of The 12 Days of Christmas. This album closes with a studio version of it, and that’s great, but it makes you realize how much the delight of the audience fed the energy of that first performance. The recording feels a bit limp by comparison. It’s also nearly a minute shorter, partly due to a lack of audience response, partly because they seem to have sped it up just a bit, which kinda gives the appearance that they’re rushing through it. Still fantastic, just not quite as good as the live version.

While the harmonies on 12 Days are exceptional, it’s the marriage of harmony and humor that really got everyone’s attention, so I guess they figured they needed something comparable for their second album. Christmas Cheers opens with something brand-new and just as wacky: The Christmas Can-Can. This mixed-up medley created by Chase incorporates Can-Can, along with several Christmas songs, including Deck the Halls, Hark the Herald Angels Sing, Angels We Have Heard on High, I Saw Three Ships Come Sailing In, Jingle Bells, Ode to Joy and, once again, The Dreidel Song.

Can-Can and several of the other songs get new, amusing lyrics having to do with the craziness of the holiday season that now seems to start midway through October. At times, we have two or three songs going at once, and you really get the feeling that you’re walking through a shopping mall where every store is blaring its own collection of Christmas carols and harried shoppers are brushing past you every time you turn around. And if you don’t happen to celebrate Christmas, you’re feeling disenfranchised as well as stressed. Pretty hard to try singing along with, but a hilarious opening track.

Hilarity seems to have been on their minds when they came up with this album, as several other tracks have comical elements. We Three Kings is straightforward lyrically, but it’s arranged in such a way that the traditional carol merges with the Mission: Impossible theme song. Which I suppose is rather fitting for an epic trek that must have come with a challenge or two... A really cool and unexpected mash-up. Donde Esta Santa Claus is a goofy little number, with the tone oscillating between lethargic and trippy. To bring out the mariachi flavor, there are occasional bursts of brass instruments, or at least that’s what it sounds like, though as far as I know, there are no instruments used on this album, so somebody in the group does a pretty mean imitation of a trumpet. Evidently this is not an original song, but it’s one I’d never heard before, and with its hearty mix of English and Spanish, it’s a bit odd. Fun, though.

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer pretends that the guys are on an old-timey radio program, and theirs is a wonderfully doo-woppy version of the classic. Their first time through, they don’t add much in the way of embellishment, but on their second run, the lyrics suddenly take a turn for the bizarre. Rudolph becomes a “renegade Arctic deer” with a “nuclear” nose, and the whole thing gets a lot jazzier. Santa Claus Is Back in Town is mostly an Elvis tribute, with Ahlwardt reveling in his mimicry of the King of Rock as he becomes an Elvis-ish Santa seductively addressing the object of his affections. Well, he seems to think he’s being seductive, but he can’t go more than a sentence or two without mentioning food. Mostly, really gross food like mayonnaise candy canes and pigs’ feet-flavored eggnog. Blech! Speaking of eggnog, Who Spiked the Eggnog? is a finger-snappin’ silly fest in which everyone in the group stands accused of spiking the eggnog at the Straight No Chaser Christmas party. These guys are zany enough as it is; I don’t really think they need alcohol to help ‘em out!

While humor isn’t the main focus on most of the other tracks, it still seeps into most of them here and there. Hey, Santa! is a jazzy number reminding me of the Doobie Brothers’ Black Water. It’s a very peppy song that makes me smile. So does the R&B-flavored Let It Snow. Of course, You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch has some pretty ludicrous lyrics to start out with. I absolutely love what they’ve done with this one. It has a really mysterious sound to it, sounding like it would have a place in an old spy movie or something. At times, the melody line isn’t too far off from what we’re used to, but usually it deviates from it wildly, presenting an intriguing alternative to the familiar Thurl Ravenscroft version.

Jingle Bells is quick to the point of being a bit frenzied - as if the horses slipped on a patch of ice and sent the sleigh skittering out of control. In keeping with their habit of incorporating surprising songs into Christmas classics, they occasionally sing the words “jingle bells” to the tune of America from West Side Story, which adds to the fun, as does the spoken objection to the non-word “upsot”. Christmastime Is Here, by contrast, is downright drowsy, one of the few tracks that I imagine it would be possible to fall asleep to. A very soothing rendition with a dash of O Christmas Tree tossed in. I’ll Be Home for Christmas is another of the more sedate tracks, and it may be a challenger to Josh Groban for my favorite version of that song. Another pretty track, which starts out with the spooky whistling of wind, is God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen. The R&B flavor is a nice touch.

I always say that my favorite Christmas song is O Holy Night, but I’ve never been able to find a recording of it that I consider definitive. Straight No Chaser’s is a little too peppy for me to give them the award. Nonetheless, while this is more upbeat than I’m used to hearing this song, the harmonies are just gorgeous, and the doo-wop style actually suits it wonderfully. It sounds all the more sincere for being so different. I was really hoping for an a cappella or near-a cappella version of this song on Celtic Thunder’s recent Christmas album; this almost makes up for its absence.

All things considered, I think I prefer Holiday Spirits to Christmas Cheers, mainly because I’m in love with the poignant Christmas Wish and Indiana Christmas, while all of the original songs on this album are madcap. Not that that’s a bad thing. If you want a laugh while you’re putting up those decorations, Christmas Cheers is sure to bring you cheer.

Barack Obama and Loren Long Celebrate Groundbreaking Americans in Of Thee I Sing

One advantage to working in a bookstore is that when new books of interest come out, I’m among the first to know. This week, I was surprised to see that we had a brand-new children’s book that had been written by President Barack Obama. Naturally, it piqued my interest, and after leafing through it, I was so mesmerized that I couldn’t resist buying a copy for myself.

In Of Thee I Sing: A Letter to My Daughters, Obama eloquently addresses young Sasha and Malia, lavishing tender words of encouragement upon them and honoring 13 groundbreaking Americans in the process. I’m guessing that 13 were chosen as an homage to the 13 colonies, though I don’t know if that’s the case. At any rate, this is a patriotic book that is as educational as it is heartwarming. It’s oversized, a hardcover about a foot high, making it all the more appropriate as a coffee table book. That really is what I imagine this being, as a picture book by the sitting President is certainly a conversation starter, and the illustrations are absolutely stunning.

I’ve previously encountered Loren Long, who impressed me mightily with Drummer Boy, a sweet story about a toy drummer who is unwittingly sent on an epic journey to points all around town before finally making his way back to the boy who loves him. Long wrote that story as well as illustrating it, while he also furnished pictures for an edition of Frank McCourt’s gentle Angela and the Baby Jesus. Long’s acrylic paintings are gorgeous, full of light and warmth and personality. They have a very realistic quality to them, and all of the historical figures in Of Thee I Sing are instantly recognizable to those familiar with their faces.

We also see the Obama family, save Michelle, to whom the book is dedicated. The title page features Barack, as does the final page, though we never get a very clear view of him; in one picture, we see the back of his head as he watches his daughters frolic across the lawn, while in the other, a bit of his face is visible as he stands between his daughters, their hands clasped in his. Family dog Bo appears on the cover and first page, and he has the back inside flap to himself. But the girls are clearly visible throughout the book.

For most of the book, Obama and Long follow a basic format. On the left page, we have a simple question: “Have I told you that you are _____ ?” At the end of that sentence, or one very similarly phrased, is a particular admirable trait that he sees in his daughters, and he expands upon his thoughts on the next page with lyrical reflections on how one particular American exemplifies that quality.

Indeed, each sketch feels like a self-contained poem, with stirring language and deliberate line breaks. For instance, we have, “A man named Jackie Robinson played baseball / and showed us all / how to turn fear to respect / and respect to love. Of Helen Keller, he writes, “Though she could not see or hear, / she taught us to look at and listen to each other.” And Neil Armstrong: “He watched the world from way up high / and we watched his lunar landing leaps, / which made us brave enough / to take our own big, bold strides.”

For Long’s part, he starts off with Malia and Sasha on the left side against a plain white backdrop, initially joined by a little girl with a palette and paintbrushes, as the first word Obama explores is “creative”. On each page that follows, they are joined by one more child who correlates to the main subject of the two-page rumination. Meanwhile, each right-hand page features a more-than-half-page portrait of the historical American in question. Each is totally unique, not only faithfully representing the subject but setting him or her in a context that powerfully illustrates the description of his or her accomplishments.

My favorite of the portraits is of Lakota medicine man Sitting Bull. In fact, it was this painting that decided me on buying the book. Reminiscent of the style of Bev Doolittle, the picture is immediately recognizable as the somber face on the 28-cent postage stamp released in 1989. And yet it’s not a face, it’s a landscape. Or rather, it’s both. The rugged western terrain serves as the backdrop for his craggy face, with grazing horses accentuating the cheekbones and a pair of buffalo underneath windblown trees standing in for his eyes. Arresting. So is the portrait of Maya Lin, whose face is merely seen reflected in the Vietnam Veterans Memorial she designed, and there’s a sense of wonder and enchantment in the sight of a disheveled Albert Einstein standing under the stars, pencil in one hand and paper in the other, his hair ruffled by a gentle breeze.

Some of the entries are no-brainers: George Washington, Martin Luther King, Jr. and, of course, my birthday buddy, Abraham Lincoln. Others caught me more by surprise: painter Georgia O’Keeffe, singer Billie Holiday, humanitarian Jane Addams, activist Cesar Chavez. But each figure is treated as someone with important lessons to teach the future generations of children depicted, along with youths of the past, on a two-page spread that shows the incredible diversity of cultures and interests at play in America.

Of Thee I Sing is a book that aims to inspire greatness by showing today’s children how many different ways there are to make an impact. It celebrates “People who have made bright lights shine / by sharing their unique gifts / and giving us the courage to lift one another up, / to keep up the fight, / to work and build upon all that is good / in our nation.” Obama never mentions his presidency in the book, nor do the illustrations allude to it; this is just an American dad with a solid grasp of history passing some words of wisdom along to his daughters. His parting thought? “And have I told you that I love you?”

Have I told you that I love this book?

Tigger's New Toy Saves the Day in Winnie the Pooh and the Toy Airplane

The Hundred-Acre Wood is a very low-tech kind of place. To borrow from Bilbo Baggins, “life in the [Wood] goes on, very much as it has this past Age... full of its own comings and goings, with change coming slowly, if it comes at all.” So I was a bit surprised when I stumbled upon Winnie the Pooh and the Toy Airplane, a Golden book written by Joan Phillips and illustrated by Bill Langley and Russell Schroeder.

This book features just four characters: Pooh, Piglet, Tigger and Roo. Considering Tigger’s general state of hyperness, it makes sense that he is the one with a fancy new toy to show off. It’s a rather handsome toy, and apparently it’s functional, though you sure wouldn’t know it to look at it. I could see how you might be able to toss it and possibly watch it soar for a while after being caught in a breeze, but there’s more to it than that. The thing actually flies. And when an especially small someone is in the pilot’s seat, steering is evidently a cinch.

So we have an airplane, which in and of itself seems rather out of place in such a low-tech landscape, and it’s apparently a very sophisticated piece of equipment. That makes for a rather odd premise. Meanwhile, Tigger and plane alike vanish from the story for a while, which seems a little strange. But this is what leads to Pooh, Piglet and Roo going pebble-hunting and Roo getting himself swept away by the creek, necessitating heroics after Tigger magically reappears to announce that the only way to save Roo is by flying over to him and picking him up, and the only one small enough to manage it is Piglet, who wants nothing to do with the plane. It would seem that the three who remain on the shore are not swimmers; that strikes me the more practical way to pull off a water rescue...

The writing style is extremely simple. A small circle in the corner identifies this as “A Golden Very Easy Reader,” and we’re definitely talking beginners here. Most of the sentences are quite short, and the same words come up multiple times throughout the book. Aside from the character names, we get five uses of the word “toy,” six uses of “look,” eight uses of “Oh, my” and thirteen uses of “fly” or “flying,” The repetition helps to make reading easier, though it may make the story a little dull for older readers.

Although it was published in 1990, the book has a rather flat look to it that makes it seem older. For the most part, there’s no shading to the characters, with only some shadows and color variation in the background, particularly on the grass. Still, the characters are faithful representations, and aside from the jarring blue plane, which could have used an extra detail or two - such as any indication of a steering mechanism - everything looks as it should for the Hundred-Acre Wood.

I still consider this easy reader, which I think I picked up at a yard sale, to be an oddity, and I certainly wouldn’t list it among my favorite Pooh books. But the camaraderie among the four pals is enjoyable, as is Piglet’s show of bravery, reluctant as it may be. While I probably wouldn’t specifically seek it out, if you come across it randomly as I did, Winnie the Pooh and the Toy Airplane is worth a look.

Heroes Abound in Pooh's Hero Party

Over the years, A. A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh stories - and Disney’s interpretation and expansion upon them - have sparked dozens, if not hundreds, of books. While many of them are original stories, some are simply adaptations of the classics. The latter is the case with Pooh’s Hero Party, which was written by Isabel Gaines and illustrated by Studio Orlando.

Pooh’s Hero Party is a part of the Winnie the Pooh First Reader series, which includes several slim volumes aimed at children of limited literacy. The back of each book includes some simple activities designed to help children learn new words. In this book, one encourages readers to match words up with their corresponding pictures, while another asks them to fill in the missing letter in each of a list of words.

The story itself is drawn from the eighth chapter of Milne’s The House at Pooh Corner, which was part of the basis for Disney’s Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day. It begins with Owl’s house falling down in the midst of a mighty wind and ends with a hero party in honor of not just Pooh, mentioned in the title, but his very good friend Piglet as well.

One theme that is consistent through the Winnie the Pooh stories, especially the Disneyfied versions of them, is that of friends helping one another. There’s a whole lot of that in this book. Christopher Robin, Rabbit and Eeyore help Owl inspect his damaged house. Eeyore volunteers to find a replacement abode, a kind gesture for such a reticent donkey (though it’s clear he doesn’t get out much, considering that he has no clue that the house he finds is already spoken for). Pooh finds two different ways of rescuing Piglet from a precarious situation, and Piglet makes an incredibly selfless choice for the sake of a friend. One might argue that it’s a little too selfless, since it leaves him in a predicament, but that’s quickly amended.

I like the emphasis on community in this book and the colorful illustrations that mostly look cheerful even though several of the events in the story are rather unfortunate. There are a few pictures that direct the reader’s attention to bleak emotions, most notably the one featuring a defeated-looking Piglet with downcast ears and a tear escaping his eye, but that’s soon followed by a widely smiling Piglet. While the best way to experience this story is to read Milne’s chapter or watch the Disney featurette, this cute adaptation is a good one for young Pooh enthusiasts just getting used to reading on their own.

Reindeer Puzzle Over Santa's Absence in What Could Be Keeping Santa?

In most Christmas picture books, it’s the children around the world who wait impatiently for Santa’s arrival, but in Marilyn Janovitz’s adorable What Could Be Keeping Santa?, his reindeer are the ones aquiver with anxious anticipation. They know that they have a job to do, but Santa Claus seems to have forgotten. None of them can imagine what could possibly keep the jolly old elf from setting off on his yearly journey on time.

Janovitz tells her story in four-line stanzas, with the first three lines rhyming and the fourth some variation on “What could be keeping Santa?” The print is large, and most of the pages only feature one or two lines. The rhyme and rhythm works very well, particularly toward the beginning of the book, in which she describes all of the indications that the time has come for Santa to set out. Oddly, she shifts tenses toward the end of the book, suddenly writing in past tense, and I find this a bit jarring, but otherwise, the book is written well, and the ultimate answer to their question is amusing.

While the narration is charming, the illustrations are what really capture the imagination. Janovitz introduces us to eight identical reindeer, all of whom walk upright. Indeed, they seem to have more in common with humans than most reindeer in Santa stories; they don’t even live in a stable. Instead, a two-page spread depicts them all dozing off under a blanket in a bed designed for eight.

Janovitz’s vision of the North Pole is quite humble. Instead of a magnificent palace, Santa lives in a little shack, and his workshop isn’t much bigger. Since we never see Mrs. Claus or any elves, it isn’t clear whether they are part of Janovitz’s vision or if we’re meant to think that Santa makes all of the toys himself, perhaps with some help from his very anthropomorphic reindeer.

Her pictures, which are spread across two pages, are done in watercolor and colored pencil, giving them a very soft, almost pastel appearance. The reindeer have rosy cheeks and simple facial structure that makes them reminiscent of teddy bears, differentiated from them primarily by their hooves and the antlers on their heads. Their concerned expressions throughout the book are quite endearing.

What Could Be Keeping Santa? is clearly written with very young readers in mind, so this book probably wouldn’t be a great choice for kids much beyond first grade, but for tiny tots, this reindeer tale is a winner.

On the Twelfth Day of Christmas, Hope Your True Love Gives You This...

December of 2008 turned out to be a rather momentous month for me, musically. That was when I listened to Celtic Thunder for the first time, and within a couple weeks of that, I heard Straight No Chaser’s The 12 Days of Christmas on the radio at work, leading me to look the group up as soon as I got home. I love Christmas music, but I’ll confess to generally finding that song a bit tedious and strange. Who wants all that stuff? Especially when half that “stuff” is people?

I’ve pretty much had it with straightforward versions of that song, but the controlled harmonic chaos of this a cappella group’s version is inspired, with something to make me laugh in every verse even as my ears bask in the tight blending of voices. Many others agreed with me; after the video, taken from a 1998 performance of the Indiana University a cappella group, got millions of hits, Atlantic Records came calling. Holiday Spirits - featuring Dan Ponce, Randy Stine, Charlie Mechling, Steve Morgan, Jerome Collins, Dave Roberts, Walter Chase, Mike Itkoff, Mike Luginbill and Ryan Ahlwardt - is the result.

The 12 Days of Christmas isn’t first, but I have to mention it first since it’s the one that launched the group into national awareness. Founder Dan Ponce’s brilliant arrangement allows the members to breeze through several verses at the same time, though how they can keep straight who’s singing what is a mystery. In addition to singing multiple verses at the same time, they creatively incorporate several traditional songs, including Deck the Halls, Frosty the Snowman, Here We Come A-Wassailing and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.

It’s amusing to hear the rather grotesque Boar’s Head Carol, to which VeggieTales’ zany first Christmas album introduced me, tossed in, and Hanukkah gets an endearing nod with an individual outburst of The Dreidel Song. But it’s the inclusion of Toto’s Africa that really gets me. It feels so utterly random, and yet they get the song to fit the format so perfectly. Well, okay, I’ll admit that “drummers drumming like Olympus upon the Serengeti” doesn’t actually make much sense. But the whole thing is so off-kilter that the line just makes me smile. This instantly became one of my favorite Christmas recordings - and my hands-down favorite version of the song, beating out Garrison Keillor’s deranged sound effects fest - so I was excited to learn that there was more where that came from. While this track remains my favorite, the rest of the album provides just as much listening pleasure.

Santa Claus Is Coming to Town starts off curiously sedate before turning into a peppy, doo-woppy number complete with finger-snapping and a distinctive backdrop of deep voices. Sound effects of various toys are a nice touch, and Collins, my favorite member of the group, has the lead. Jingle Bell Rock is on the mellow side, with lots of choral back-up, as is The Christmas Song, which also incorporates some jaunty whistling. Collins takes the spotlight again on This Christmas, a song I first heard from American Idol’s Ruben Studdard, though that version was a bit abrasive thanks to some intrusive instrumentation, whereas this one is smooth.

Christmas Wish has a sweetly earnest tone to it. One of two originals on the album, it is the plea of a lonely man longing for a love to share his Christmas with. Hark! The Herald Angels Sing is pretty basic, but then Collins comes in with Angels We Have Heard On High, with all the other members providing tiny bursts of backup like cheerily blinking Christmas lights, and his soulful reading of “Come to Bethlehem and see” is among my favorite moments on the album. Considering the Beach Boys’ mastery of close harmony, Little Saint Nick was a natural choice for Straight No Chaser, and they have a lot of fun with it. This is one of only two songs to incorporate an external instrument: jingle bells. And you’ll want some of your own to shake along with the music.

Indiana Christmas is a touching original song in tribute to Indiana, which is in the tradition of many songs about going home for Christmas. I don’t know how many of the group’s members are actually from Indiana, but it was certainly home to all of them at one point. Accentuating the wistful tone of the song is the verse that includes a reflection on deceased loved ones. One of my favorite tracks. Sweet Little Jesus Boy is a lullaby I first heard on Anne Murray’s Christmas album, and their rendition is somber but tender. Collins takes the lead again on the peppy, pleading Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home), and the jingle bells make a welcome return as well.

Carol of the Bells is one of the coolest, incorporating God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen in the beginning and including lots of neat harmonies and voices imitating the sound of bells. From there, we move on to Silent Night, which starts off pretty straightforward before experimenting considerably with melody and harmony on the second verse and returning to a more traditional reading for the third verse. This is one of those songs you can almost guarantee you’ll find on most Christmas albums, and their version has much to recommend it. The album ends on a chipper note even though I generally think of Auld Lang Syne as a rather melancholy song. It sure doesn’t sound like it when they do it, and why should it? These old acquaintances certainly haven’t forgotten one another, nor are you likely to forget them after hearing this luminous reunion recording.

Bob Dylan Celebrates Traditional Christmas Music in Christmas In the Heart

When I heard last year that Bob Dylan was releasing a Christmas album, I was intrigued, but I had misgivings - especially when I saw the title Christmas In the Heart and learned that the album would include only traditional music. I mean, Dylan is one of the greatest names in American folk music, but that’s because of his ingenious songwriting skills. Skills that, I would think, would allow him to come up with a less cliched title. Skills that don’t so much extend to his voice. The way I see it, he absolutely has the right to sing his own songs, but I’m not going to feel too guilty about generally preferring covers of Dylan’s work. Why release an album that is more likely to highlight his weaknesses than his strengths? And I confess the thought crossed my mind... Is he making a mockery of this?

I put Christmas In the Heart on hold at the library, unsure whether a Dylan Christmas album would really be something I’d want to listen to repeatedly, but as a result, I was in for a bit of a wait. Two or three months passed before I finally got it. The upside was that in the meantime, I’d read an interview with Dylan by Bill Flanagan of the North American Street Newspaper Association that satisfied me as to the sincerity of his intentions. I especially liked his response to Flanagan’s comment that one critic said the album wasn’t irreverent enough: “Isn’t there enough irreverence in the world? Who would need more? Especially at Christmas time.”

That, coupled with the fact that the album’s proceeds would benefit the hungry, was enough to convince me that it wouldn’t be distasteful. Nonetheless, there was still Dylan’s harsh, gargling-with-sandpaper voice to consider. I might appreciate the spirit in which the album was created, but would I actually enjoy listening to it? Somewhat to my surprise, the answer was a resounding yes.

Here Comes Santa Claus - This song gets things off to a cheery start, and a chorus does quite a bit of the singing here. It’s very old-fashioned sounding replete with jingle bells, while the twangy guitar solo gives it almost a Hawaiian feel.

Do You Hear What I Hear? - This is one of my absolute favorite Christmas songs. The definitive version for me is Vanessa Williams’ African-tinged rendition, but I found myself startled by how swept away I was by this version. With its steady march beat and increasingly lush instrumentation, it has a regal sound to it, and Dylan sings with the relish of a seasoned balladeer. After all, this song, written at a time when the threat of nuclear war hung heavy in the air, probably fits in better with his own repertoire than any other on the album, and the weathered tone to his voice merely adds to the impression of wisdom. Probably my favorite track.

Winter Wonderland - Another song that feels like a throwback to the mid-1900s, especially with that chorus of female singers who get things started and chime in again toward the end.

Hark the Herald Angels Sing - The women are back here, providing harmonies on the first verse and singing on their own in the harmonious, very slow-paced second verse. There’s something a tad uneven about this one, but it’s an interesting track.

I’ll Be Home for Christmas - Piano is the prominent instrument on this slow rendition of the mournful classic, while a deep-voiced chorus and some jazzy percussion increases the nostalgic flavor.

Little Drummer Boy - Dylan flourishes best on these narrative-heavy tracks. This one is another standout. I love the steady rum-pa-pum-pum of the drums in the background, and just as Do You Hear What I Hear? feels like a Dylan-esque plea for peace, this one seems to tap into his desire to honor the holiday with his music.

The Christmas Blues - The only song on the album I’d never heard before. An appropriately bluesy track complaining about how Santa only brought “those brightly packaged, tinsel-covered Christmas blues,” with some nice harmonica thrown into the mix.

O Come All Ye Faithful - This one starts off with Dylan actually singing in Italian, which is interesting to hear. He kinda sounds to me like he learned the thing phonetically; I wouldn’t say he sounds too fluent. But it’s kind of a neat touch, followed by the more expected English rendition.

Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - The rhythm on this one is strange, with some phrases sounding very different than usual, but that uniqueness adds to the song’s appeal.

Must Be Santa - Accordion craziness! This one just makes me giggle. At every moment, he seems in danger of a major derailing as he loses track of the words fleetly escaping his lips, but it never quite happens. In the VeggieTales Silly Song The Dance of the Cucumber, Bob mentions his uncle Louie’s polka party; I imagine it must sound something like this raucous number.

Silver Bells - When it comes to Christmas nostalgia, this song tops the list for me. It’s Anne Murray’s version that sends me instantly hurtling back to the age of two, but I quite like this rendition as well. Nothing very distinctive about it, but it’s just rather nice.

The First Noel - Another narrative one, so we get to hear Dylan in his element again. Quite a nice track.

Christmas Island - For some reason, Bob Dylan and sunny shores don’t really seem to me to go together, so this one is another that makes me chuckle. Of course, it’s a bit of a silly song to begin with, combining stereotypical Christmas images with tropical island ones, so I suppose that’s fitting.

The Christmas Song - Dylan sings an introduction I’ve never heard before, which gives this very familiar song a distinct stamp, as does some unusual phrasing.

O Little Town of Bethlehem - Dylan ends on a note of solemn reverence with this beloved carol, right down to the drawn-out “Amen” at the end.

I’m still not wild for Bob Dylan’s voice, but I don’t mind it so much when I’m listening to this album. If you like Christmas music with a folkie flavor, give Christmas In the Heart a chance.

The Turkey's Not on the Table in The Best Thanksgiving Day

Thanksgiving is “a day we give thanks for all the good things we have and cook a big meal to share with friends.” This is how Christopher Robin describes the holiday in the Winnie the Pooh Golden Book The Best Thanksgiving Day, and it feels like a pretty fitting description, particularly for this close-knit gang. It’s no surprise that once they know what Thanksgiving is, they want to participate.

What is a bit surprising is that when Tigger, left without a specific task in preparation from the celebration, asks Owl what he should bring, Owl suggests, “Why don’t you bring the turkey?” I know that owls are naturally birds of prey, but it seems just a little odd to me to have Owl suggest making a meal out of a fellow bird.

Although Owl never says as much, since he prides himself on being the most knowledgeable resident of the forest, I take it for granted that he knows about Thanksgiving already, but the book doesn’t give me the impression that anyone else does, so it’s also a little strange to hear Roo and Rabbit drooling over the prospect of a turkey when Christopher Robin never mentioned it and when just about every meal in the Hundred-Acre Wood seems to be vegetarian.

Thankfully, author Ann Braybrooks spares us the sight of Tigger trying to bring down a turkey. When Tigger hears he should bring the turkey, he assumes that can only mean one thing: find a turkey and invite it to dinner. So that’s exactly what he does, though it isn’t so easy to convince a protective mother turkey, on Thanksgiving of all days, to go along with a stranger to a feast. With the hour of the dinner quickly approaching, Tigger feels like a failure, but all’s well that ends well in this cheery holiday tale.

The Best Thanksgiving Day is a cute book, but along with the strangeness of everyone suddenly developing a taste for turkey, I also can’t help but wonder, Doesn’t Christopher Robin have his own feast to go to? Of course, I suppose that he could be skipping out after his family’s own Thanksgiving dinner, but if that’s the case, how can he manage to eat anything else? And though Gopher is present in the pictures, why doesn’t the text mention him at all? And where, oh where, does Tigger come up with a turkey costume at such short notice?

So this isn’t really among my favorite Pooh books, but it’s still a cute story, and it’s even a bit educational, as one page identifies a crow, some sparrows and a quail and her babies. Additionally, the illustrations, provided by Arkadia, are quite lovely, showing us the Hundred-Acre Wood in the midst of autumn’s full glory. It’s also nice to see Tigger so determined to be helpful. So while it’s a rather odd story, The Best Thanksgiving Day is still a book worth reading as November draws to a close.

Santa Seems To Have Been a Little Mixed Up in The Merry Christmas Mystery

I’ve read several Christmas books featuring Winnie the Pooh, and one thing you can always count on in these stories is that the rumbly in the tumbly of the Silly Old Bear will be satisfied with a pot of honey, either from Santa Claus or from a generous friend. But in The Merry Christmas Mystery, written by Betty Birney and illustrated by Nancy Stevenson, it looks like Pooh may have to wait a while for his favorite treat. Instead of honey, Santa brings him... thistles. Is the Jolly Old Elf implying that Pooh should diversify his tastes? Might thistles complement his efforts in his morning stoutness exercises? Or is something else at play here?

Last year, I read Alexander Steffensmeier’s Millie in the Snow, a picture book about a cow who must trek home in the midst of a blizzard, carrying gifts for the folks back at the farm. The outcome of that cow tale reminded me very much of The Merry Christmas Mystery, which was one of the first in my collection of Pooh books that now includes more than a hundred volumes. I received it for Christmas, and the vibrant Golden Look-Look Book was a perfect fit for me, but in this story, a perfect fit is hard to come by. Everybody in the Hundred-Acre Wood seems to have received a gift that doesn’t make much sense.

Pooh and his thistles is only the beginning. Piglet arrives on the scene in a winter coat so big that he can scarcely walk. Rabbit shows off tiny red earmuffs that barely cover the tips of his ears. What’s a Tigger to do with a pot full of honey when it’s common knowledge that Tiggers hate honey? And what could Santa have been thinking when he gave Eeyore that peculiar coat rack? Nobody’s too sure, but the nice thing is that while general puzzlement abounds, nobody is complaining. “It was nice of Santa to think of me” becomes the familiar, polite refrain. And then, as more and more residents come together for the annual decoration of the grandest pine in the forest, they begin to share...

By the end of the book, the woodland friends manage to crack the mystery behind their unusual gifts; it’s a simple solution, though I wonder how many children would guess it ahead of time, since it involves an object that I don’t recall seeing in any other Pooh stories. I think the first time I read it, my hunch was that Santa - or perhaps Christopher Robin - just wanted to give these friends of modest means an opportunity to exchange gifts with each other. That’s the result, anyway, making this an especially sweet Pooh story.

The writing style is typical for a Disney Pooh book, and each of the characters acts and talks naturally. I love the detailed, full-color illustrations, which feature so many of these beloved characters in the pristine, snowy setting. I’m a little curious as to why Roo turns up so much earlier than Kanga, who doesn’t seem to have gotten a mixed-up present, and it’s a shame that Gopher doesn’t show up at all, but as a pure Disney invention, he does tend to make his way into fewer books than most. Everybody else is here, and it’s one very happy crew sure to spread merriment to any youngster longing for a sojourn in the Hundred-Acre Wood.

Relive the Magic of Pushing Daisies Through Its Enchanting Soundtrack

In its all-too-short two seasons, ABC’s Pushing Daisies consistently delivered witty, warm-hearted viewing. Every element of the show came together to create a perfect whole, and that includes the music. With one of the most distinctive scores in prime time, it shouldn’t have surprised me that Pushing Daisies released a soundtrack; nonetheless, I was startled to stumble upon it while browsing through my library’s music collection.

Over the course of 32 tracks, composer Jim Dooley and the Hollywood Studio Symphony, conducted by Tim Davies, weave a magical spell. It all begins with the main title, with the suspenseful brass and strings giving way to the gentle waltz that comes up again and again. In just a few notes, it evokes the feeling of blossoming - both new life, bestowed through Ned’s touch, and renewed love between him and his childhood sweetheart Chuck. It has an epic air of romance and antiquity about it that reminds me of the score for the opening scene in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast.

This tender thread is most prominent in the tentative Lying in the Dark; the sweet Pie Hole Holding; Morgue to Love, which intercuts with the more mysterious music; the affectionate but perilous Plastic Kiss; the initially delicate Play-Doh Dreaming; the romantic Park Picnic; and Hands Against the Wall, the very brief final track. Waltzes also come into play in the nostalgic Young Ned’s Dissection and the breezy Chucky Bees, as well as Waltz, which evokes the setting of a 1940s formal dance, and the sweeping Olive and Alfredo.

In contrast with Ned and Chuck’s tender theme, we have the punchy music indicative of crusty detective Emerson Cod. This is generally jazzy and reminds me of Henry Mancini’s Pink Panther music. Short bursts of bass, finger-snapping and keyboard are hallmarks of these tracks, which include Lefty Arrives; Jeanine Pie; Emerson and the B*tches (that‘s dogs, folks...); Knitt Witt; Who’s Smoking? and Don’t Mess With the Pie Hos.

Others present a more general aura of mystery and suspense. There’s the illuminating Chuck’s News Flash; the fast-paced Where’s My Briefcase?; the creeping, accordion-tinged Homeopaths; the ominous Poor Customer Service; the spooky, harpsichord-filled Happy Halloween; the furtive Follow the Yellow Thick Hose; and the threatening Institution Omnibus.

Other tracks have a unique sound. Chuck’s Swing feels, appropriately enough, like a big-band swing dance, while Bittersweets sounds like a slightly demented carousel ride. Wilfred Woodruff’s War makes one think of intense, carefully plotted battles, with unusual instrumentation ranging from banjos and whistles to march-like percussion. Jason Lucas Diamonds does some strange things with the guitar, while Death Came is accompanied by what sounds like an assault of squeaky toys and Victor Narrowmore creatively incorporates a typewriter.

Along with the instrumental music, we have three vocal tracks that actually start off the album. The opening track is from one of my very favorite moments in the first season, when Ellen Greene’s gentle, despondent Aunt Lily, aided by the considerate Olive, allows herself to embrace life again for the first time since her beloved niece’s death. Morning Has Broken has always been one of my favorite hymns, and all that vibrant imagery about fresh life feels incredibly fitting on a show that is so much about starting again. Greene’s performance is exceptional, first hesitant, then exuberant, and it felt particularly meaningful when the episode initially aired the day before Thanksgiving.

Also included are Hopelessly Devoted to You, sung with heartfelt affection by Kristin Chenoweth’s lovelorn Olive Snook, and Greene and Chenoweth’s infectiously cheerful duet on They Might Be Giants’ Birdhouse in Your Soul, a song as sweetly daffy as the show itself. Ever since I popped in the CD last week, this one has been running through my head, and I don‘t mind.

Pushing Daisies is long off prime time now, but this soundtrack offers another opportunity for those who fell under its enchantment to recapture the magic.

Anne Of Green Gables Didn't Need a New Beginning; Stick With the Old One

For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved Anne Shirley, the protagonist of the beloved L. M. Montgomery series, and I’m equally swept away by Kevin Sullivan’s flawless adaptation of the first book in miniseries form. Almost as good is his sequel, Anne of Avonlea, though it takes considerably more liberties with the story. However, his third and fourth Anne films are a complete departure from the books, and they threaten to sap away much of the charm of his own first two installments.

The fourth, and presumably final, chapter in Sullivan’s Anne saga is Anne of Green Gables: A New Beginning. Right off the bat, he alienates most of his female audience by killing off Gilbert, that stalwart doctor who waited so patiently for Anne to accept his regard for her, setting millions of hearts aflutter in the process. Sullivan’s series is set a couple of decades after Montgomery’s, so while the books show us a middle-aged Anne and Gilbert watching their sons go off to fight in World War I, here we have a middle-aged Gilbert dying against the backdrop of World War II. Seemingly, he has been killed in action, though the movie barely bothers to mention why Anne is on her own. It all feels very glossed over.

Another problem is that the cast is almost entirely unfamiliar. Aside from brief glimpses of Jonathan Crombie and Colleen Dewhurst as Anne remembers Gilbert and Marilla and a quick appearance by Patricia Hamilton as Rachel Lynde, who’s still chugging along well into her 90s, no actors from the original miniseries remain, and few characters do. Anne is now portrayed by Barbara Hershey, as well as Hannah Endicott-Douglas in flashbacks to Anne’s youth. The present finds Anne back in Avonlea, hoping to sell Green Gables, but first she wants to enjoy its quietude once more as she tries to work out the kinks in a play she’s writing for a community theater production. When she stumbles upon an old letter sent to Marilla by her father, it drastically changes the direction of her play and sends her in search of some definitive answers about her past.

That’s where my biggest problem with the movie lies. Here, we find out that Anne lived happily with her parents until the age of nine or so, and then her mother died in a tragic accident and her father headed for the hills. As a coping mechanism, she made up a story about both of her parents succumbing to illness in her infancy.

Um... What?

I’m sorry, this is just too great a leap for this purist, and it cheapens Anne of Green Gables immeasurably if we’re supposed to believe that Anne just kept up this ruse indefinitely. It renders her not so much imaginative as an egregious liar. And Green Gables is such a glorious haven for Anne in large part because she never had a place she could truly call home. If she had a normal, happy childhood for nine years, then Matthew and Marilla’s impact is greatly reduced. The whole thing just puts a sour taste in my mouth.

I couldn’t connect much with the older, melancholy Anne with writer’s block and a boatload of daddy issues. Much more engaging were the flashbacks, and Endicott-Douglas was very believable as a younger Anne, capturing her feisty spirit and tendency toward the overdramatic wonderfully. Sullivan gives her several exciting adventures, including a sojourn in a horrific homeless shelter of sorts that is largely a rip-off of The Count of Monte Cristo. But her subsequent immersion in the Thomas family falls apart, and there’s a definite disconnect at the end, with her abandonment a little too abrupt and complete to make much sense.

I will always love Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea, and I thank Sullivan for making them. But he should have quit while he was ahead.