Downey and Galifianakis Make Odd Driving Buddies in Due Date

I love the dollar theater. I went there loads of times in college, and it’s still an ideal destination for a last-minute outing. There aren’t as many options there as at the main theater – half a dozen as opposed to upwards of a dozen – but it’s almost a guarantee that one of the movies playing will be something I haven’t seen before and that I can tolerate. For just a buck or two, I don’t mind if I don’t love it. I just want to get some enjoyment out of the viewing experience.

My latest dollar movie was Due Date, the road trip buddy comedy directed by Todd Phillips. It reminded me of several other movies, most recently Dinner for Schmucks. You’ve got an uptight but basically decent businessman and the lovable loser who latches onto him. The oddball brings a lot of turmoil into the normal guy’s life, but ultimately he decides their unlikely friendship is worth all the hurdles. This is also a road trip comedy, so sprinkle in some strange characters and situations encountered along the way, plus with a whole lot of erratic driving, and you’ve got a pretty good idea of what to expect here.

Due Date stars Robert Downey, Jr. as Peter Highman, a man who just wants to get home to his wife in time for the birth of their first child. Downey brings a jittery sort of energy to his performance that makes me think of Woody Allen. Peter’s a smart guy with a lot to be stressed out about, with the result that he is often surly. Meanwhile, Zach Galifianakis makes Ethan Tremblay, the aspiring actor who Peter ends up stuck traveling cross-country with, a cuddly teddy bear of a fellow – who you just sort of want to throttle now and then.

Generally, both characters are likable, but Peter needs to learn to loosen up and Ethan to wake up. His obliviousness to the world around him is sometimes alarming – especially when he’s behind the wheel. The other companion on their road trip is Ethan’s dog, but he doesn’t add much aside from a recurring crude joke. And it’s the crudeness that kept me from really getting into this movie, along with the profanity. I find that I’d like most R-rated comedies better if they were PG-13, since most of what’s added with the higher rating feels very gratuitous.

Jamie Foxx has a brief but fairly enjoyable role as Peter’s old friend Darryl, and Michelle Monaghan brings a definite sweetness to Peter’s wife Sarah, who we primarily encounter over the phone. Mostly, though, this is about Peter and Ethan, and despite obnoxious qualities on the part of both characters, I was rooting for them to make it through their journey and remain friends. While I’m glad I didn’t pay full price for it, Due Date was a decent way to spend an afternoon.

Amber Tamblyn and Tilda Swinton Work Through Traumatic Pregnancies in Stephanie Daley

Several years ago, CBS introduced Joan of Arcadia, a quirky and challenging show about a teenager who receives a series of ambiguous divine instructions. It only lasted two seasons, but that was enough to make its star, Amber Tamblyn, an actress for me to watch. Yesterday, my friend Libbie and I watched a movie starring her, along with Tilda Swinton, who played the White Witch in the Narnia movies. It was good to see her again, though I’m not entirely sure what I thought of the film.

We saw it on Lifetime, and the movie, written and directed by Hilary Brougher, was entitled What She Knew, though when I looked it up on IMDb, it was listed as Stephanie Daley, the name of Tamblyn’s character. Stephanie is a teenager standing trial for the death of her baby. Swinton plays Lydie, a psychologist who meets with her periodically in an effort to determine whether she realized she was pregnant and whether she willfully killed her own child. The movie alternates among conversations between these two, flashbacks to the preceding year before Stephanie got pregnant and gave birth and current-day scenes involving either Lydie or Stephanie.

Lydie is pregnant, and about a year earlier, she lost a baby about 20 weeks into pregnancy. As a result, Stephanie’s story has deep resonance for her, and she finds it hard to let go of the case when she’s at home. It’s affecting her marriage, which is already undergoing difficulties. Swinton does a good job of depicting her attempt to juggle personal turmoil with professional distance. But Tamblyn’s the one who really drew me in.

The current day finds her sullen and taciturn, though she gradually opens up to Lydie, and their blossoming relationship reminded me a bit of the one at the heart of The Sixth Sense. In the flashbacks, she starts off seeming like a pretty happy, well-adjusted teen. She seems much younger and more innocent, and we watch her become more and more withdrawn as her pregnancy progresses. It’s a pretty compelling performance.

The men don’t come off so well in this movie. It’s implied that Lydie’s husband is having an affair, though we never get absolute confirmation of that. We see only the beginning and the aftermath of Stephanie’s lone sexual encounter; while it seems to have been somewhat consensual, the boy comes across as taking advantage of her naivety, especially since he drops out of her life after that. There’s also an undeveloped subplot involving an old friend of Stephanie’s who seems to have been molested by a teacher.

Though this was in theaters, it seemed very much in keeping with Lifetime and was all about two women trying to work their way through similar experiences that only another woman could fully appreciate. There’s a lot of symbolism in the movie, particularly with deer and cats, but viewers are left to put the pieces of the puzzle together. The ending feels pretty ambiguous and abrupt, and some scenes don’t quite seem to fit in. The Tamblyn-Swinton scenes serve as the movie’s foundation, and there’s an energy to the film in those moments that it lacks in other scenes. In the end, those two performances impressed me, but the film itself failed to grip me very much. Worth a watch, but hardly the best project either actress has taken on.

A Day Sail Cures the Summer Blahs in Mr. Putter and Tabby Clear the Decks

I live in Erie, Pennsylvania, where one of our claims to fame is the Flagship Niagara, a brig that played a pivotal role in the War of 1812. Last summer, my family spent a day aboard the ship, stretching our nautical legs in the waters of Lake Erie. In Mr. Putter and Tabby Clear the Decks, the latest in a series of books about an old man, his creaky cat, his eccentric neighbor and her rambunctious dog, the quirky quartet go for a similar day sail.

Like the rest of the Mr. Putter and Tabby books, this one is divided into sections. In this case, there are five: Itchy, An Idea ,Pepping Up, A Boat! and Another Boat! We begin with Mr. Putter and Tabby feeling “itchy,” as in bored. They’re hot and can’t think of anything interesting to do. That’s where Mrs. Teaberry comes in. She always has adventurous ideas, and when Mr. Putter appeals to her for help, she comes up with the sailing trip. It seems like a perfect outing for them, but when the time comes to leave, one member of the party is not so willing to depart…

As always, Cynthia Rylant does a wonderful job of breathing life and humor into these characters with just a few words. Timid Mr. Putter and zesty Mrs. Teaberry complement one another well, and their pets are always good for a laugh, especially with Arthur Howard’s expressive illustrations. A lot of the humor in the book is purely visual. Other chuckles come from Rylant’s sparse but flavorful phrasing. For instance, upon reflecting on the boat’s name of The Olden Days, “Mr. Putter was glad the boat was not named The Young and Zippy Days. Those were long behind him.”

One two-page spread has Mr. Putter remembering some of the strange ideas Mrs. Teaberry has had in the past. His eyes pop with alarm as he recalls a wobbly ice skating expedition and a trip to a baffling art museum. On another page, Mr. Putter soaks in the fresh air by standing at the bow of the ship in a jubilant expression that’s almost certainly a reference to Titanic.

Only one and a half “chapters” actually take place on the boat; it’s mostly build-up and a bit of denouement. Nonetheless, kids who are interested in boats might enjoy this outing, and anyone who’s ever joined Mr. Putter and Mrs. Teaberry on a jaunt before is sure to love the chance to see these old friends together again. This is an easy reader series aimed at children in early elementary school, but I’m 29, and my eyes lit up when I saw that another installment had been published. So whatever your age, give Mr. Putter and Tabby Clear the Decks a try. I found it smooth sailing indeed.

A Kind and Steady Heart Conquers Doubt and Fear in Babe: Pig in the City

Earlier this month, Dick King-Smith died. I read dozens of books by this prolific author, but it all started with The Sheep Pig, the book that inspired George Miller’s acclaimed 1995 movie Babe. I adored that movie but never saw the sequel until this year. While it’s not quite the classic that the original is, Miller’s Babe: Pig in the City is a sweet follow-up.

Babe (E. G. Daily) is a champion sheep pig, but his glory is short-lived, as he accidentally does something that leaves his beloved boss, Arthur Hoggett (James Cromwell), incapacitated. The farmer doesn’t blame the pig, but Babe feels terrible, especially since, with Hoggett unable to work the farm, it is in danger of going into foreclosure. His boisterous wife Esme (Magda Szubanski) decides to accept an offer to make an appearance with Babe at a county fair, but a transportation kerfuffle leaves her stranded in the city with the pig. And then the trouble really begins…

The original Babe is such a quiet, simple story, beautifully executed, and much of its charm lies in Cromwell’s understated performance as the farmer of few words but deep thoughts. Though Hoggett’s injury drives the plot, Cromwell’s role in this movie is scarcely more than a cameo. Moreover, instead of the bucolic beauty of Hoggett Farm, we’ve got a chaotic city to contend with, and there are several scenes that go on much longer than necessary just for the sake of slapstick. But Babe is still the same lovable pig he was in the first film, and this movie is all about weathering mistakes and disappointments for the sake of a noble goal.

The love and respect that Babe has for Farmer Hoggett are never in question. At the same time, as he gets to know a ragtag crew of dogs, cats and simians hiding out in the hotel run by a kind-hearted animal lover (Mary Stein), the considerate nature that made him so popular with the sheep serves him yet again. Despite his determination to help his boss, he puts himself at risk for the sake of others, even those that are unkind to him. Meanwhile, Esme fights her own battle to reclaim her honor and her husband’s pig. While her role is once again largely comical – and a couple of her scenes are quite absurd – her determination to retrieve Babe at any cost to her dignity is admirable, especially considering the reluctance to look foolish that she displayed in the first movie.

While I prefer the farm setting, the look of the film is still lovely, and the Celtic-flavored score is stirring. The movie also boasts a magnificent Oscar-nominated theme song. Written by Randy Newman and performed by Peter Gabriel, it extols the virtues of courage and kindness and incorporates Babe’s iconic concluding line: “That’ll do, Pig. That’ll do.” If you’re looking for a pleasant family film, this movie will do.

Trixie Belden and the Clunky Characterization - Brought to You By UNICEF

This month, I started reading the Trixie Belden series, which features spunky 13-year-old sleuth Trixie and her close-knit band of friends and siblings, who call themselves the Bob-Whites: gentle Honey Wheeler, pretty Diana Lynch, resourceful Jim Frayne and Trixie’s brothers, witty Mart and studious Brian. I just finished the seventh book, Trixie Belden and the Mysterious Code, and while it has some intense scenes and a couple fun new characters, I found it harder to get into than the ones that preceded it. That’s because this was the point at which the writing of the series was taken over by a succession of ghost writers using the name Kathryn Kenny. Characterization was Campbell’s strong suit, and it wasn’t the strong suit of whoever was in charge of writing this volume, making it my least favorite of the series thus far.

The story begins with the Bob-Whites in an uproar because the school board disapproves of their club, mostly since there has been vandalism occurring on school property and they suspect gang activity. If the Bob-Whites can’t prove that their club is making a valuable contribution to society, they’ll have to disband. Frankly, this premise didn’t make much sense to me. What business is it of the school board what these kids do off school property? I could understand them saying they’re not allowed to wear their club jackets in school, but beyond that, it doesn’t seem like they would have that kind of authority. And what exactly would disbanding the Bob-Whites mean? The six of them are still going to hang out all the time no matter what, so what would be accomplished by that? And why can’t a club just exist for the sake of existing?

But the Bob-Whites have to do something, and quick, so Trixie formulates a plan. They’ll have an antiques show, selling some items and merely displaying others, and the money raised will go to UNICEF. I think that UNICEF is a worthy organization, and I’ve donated to it a couple of times myself. But I couldn’t help wondering, in the early chapters, if somebody from UNICEF paid this author off to turn the book into one big pitch to donate to the fund. “Working with other organizations in the United Nations, UNICEF has trained nurses, doctors, teachers, technicians, in about eighty countries in the world, helping them to make use of their own resources,” Trixie tells the rest of the club. “You see, it isn’t just for today they are helping, but for years to come.” And every time someone, especially Trixie, talks about UNICEF, you get something like this spiel, usually with shining eyes to accompany it. After a couple of chapters, though, that gets toned down a bit, so the book starts to feel more like a regular story and less like a PSA. And if Trixie’s speeches have inspired real kids to pitch in to help needy kids around the world, then I suppose it’s a worthwhile trade-off…

Once I got past the odd premise and the speechifying, what continued to distract me was the way in which the characters were written. They seem like themselves, but not quite, and some less than others. Mart isn’t quite as funny in this book, but generally, he seemed about right to me, as did Di and Jim. Brian mostly did too, though he seems excessively annoyed with Mart’s use of big words, and it’s silly to have him imply that Mart doesn’t know what any of those words mean when his sentences, while overblown, make perfect sense. Honey definitely seems a little off to me; she appears to truly resent Trixie’s sleuthing obsession, disregarding her own stated interest in becoming a detective herself. While she’s always been on the jittery side, it’s overdone here, not just with the mystery but with having her blanch at a Western and the sight of a pair of Samurai swords found in her attic. And Trixie is just so syrupy here, particularly when it comes to certain word choices, like her calling her father “Daddy” instead of “Dad” and showering six-year-old Bobby with terms of endearment like “lamb” and “honey”.

Bobby probably bugs me more than any other character, since he has such a distinctive way of speaking in the first six books and that’s all but tossed out the window here. Once in a while he’ll use a word like “holp” or “losted,” but mostly, he doesn’t sound like himself at all, and he doesn’t seem nearly rambunctious enough. Bobby usually makes me chuckle, but that didn’t happen much in this book. Meanwhile, Trixie’s mom comes across as very easy-going in the first six books, but here, she’s both a worrywart and a nag, not to mention seemingly a bit jealous of Mrs. Wheeler’s looks. Indeed, she seems very hung up on looks here, and her constant getting on Trixie’s case to not be such a tomboy got on my nerves.

Along with individual character differences, there’s a distinct difference in writing style too. Mostly, I noticed that while the first six books only let us peek into Trixie’s head from time to time, here, we get a glimpse of what other characters are thinking, too. However, with Campbell, we could pretty much infer what they were thinking without being told upfront, and that made for more dynamic reading. For instance, “The thing Jim liked best about Trixie was her spirit of adventure, her readiness to go anywhere any time and not hold back, afraid, as so many girls did. Lately Jim had been noticing, too, that Trixie was a pretty girl.” All of this rings true, but its presentation is more organic in the earlier books, particularly Mystery Off Glen Road, when he is so clearly annoyed by Trixie’s sudden infatuation with Honey’s cousin.

All that said, while certain aspects of the writing continued to grate a little as the book went on, I still got caught up in the story. The titular code doesn’t ultimately play a huge role in the book, but its initial introduction offers an intriguing glimpse into Jim’s family history, and Trixie finds a clever way to make use of it when she’s in a tight spot later. It would have been fun if the whole code could have been included as an appendix so that readers could come up with their own secret messages. Even with the nine code letters provided, you could do that to some extent.

Trixie and the others spend the whole book looking at various antiques, and those are pretty interesting. I kept thinking, “Too bad Antiques Roadshow didn’t exist back then!” Some of the stuff they round up seems likely to be pretty valuable. The swords are especially interesting, as are the characters who become associated with them. I also like Trixie’s kind-hearted but tough neighbor, Mrs. Vanderpoel, and her eccentric friend, the elderly Mr. Brom, who tells wild tales of local folk legends and bonds with Bobby as a result.

Though it’s a bit of a detour from the main story, I like the adventure that Trixie, Jim and Brian have when they go off in search of Reddy, the Beldens’ Irish Setter, one snowy night. It gives them an opportunity to show their ingenuity and resolve, and it’s nice to see Brian with a moment in the spotlight, since Mart tends to be in the thick of things more than Brian does. This is also the fourth book in the series to incorporate a holiday, in this case Valentine’s Day, and it’s fun to see the hints of romance blossoming as a result of the Valentine dance Di hosts. And while Campbell took a break from the bad guys in the last two books, a couple of pretty unsavory characters show up here, making it feel like a more traditional mystery, and there are enough new characters here that we don’t immediately know who to suspect of nefarious activity.

So I still recommend The Mysterious Code, but definitely not as a starting point. The established characters simply aren’t as vibrant here, and several of them don’t seem entirely like themselves. If you’re hooked on the characters already, there are enough interesting elements to keep the pages turning in the first of 33 post-Campbell Trixie books. Still, it’s good to know that they weren’t all written by the same person. Here’s hoping the next Kathryn Kenny is a little more to my liking.

Firth, Everett and Dench Bring the Laughs in The Importance of Being Earnest (or Ernest)

What’s in a name? I’ve always found names and their meanings fascinating, and I love the connection mine has with both Ireland and peace. But would I still be me if I were Jane or Mary? And would other people see me the same way?

In Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest, a name is very significant indeed. Two young ladies share the same curious fixation: they have always dreamed of marrying a man named Ernest. There’s just a certain something in the name that inspires confidence. (I stifled a giggle and forced myself to remember, as I watched the 2002 film adaptation written and directed by Oliver Parker, that this story predates Ernest P. Worrell by nearly a century.) Both of them do fall in love with Ernests, but there’s just one hitch: neither of them is actually named Ernest.

Colin Firth plays Jack, a generally decent fellow who divides his time between the country and London. But he has a secret. He takes his leave of the country by claiming to visit his brother Ernest in town, but his brother doesn’t actually exist. Instead, he takes on the name Ernest while in London. Meanwhile, his friend Algy, played by Rupert Everett, often gets out of social obligations by claiming a need to visit his nonexistent invalid friend, Bunbury, in the country.

Algy’s cousin Gwendolyn (Frances O’Connor) loves Jack, but her imperious mother, played by Judi Dench, insists upon approving him first, and she finds his shadowy family history most unsatisfactory. Dench, in the movie’s standout performance, savors each of her lines, milking them for maximum intimidation and wit. She’s a force to contend with, and matters soon become more complicated when the rather unscrupulous Algy turns up at Jack’s country estate pretending to be Ernest, leading him to instantly win the affections of impulsive daydreamer Cicely (Reese Witherspoon), Jack’s ward.

This fast-paced farce reminded me of one of my favorite M*A*S*H episodes, in which Hawkeye invents a captain by the name of Tuttle and finds it increasingly difficult to maintain the ruse of his existence. Here, we have two phony people and two real people using phony names. Naturally, keeping all that straight is just about impossible, and Firth and Everett are hilarious as the friends try to wade their way out of the mess they have made. While the film is more comical than romantic, the couples are believable, and I found the subplot about the affection between Cicely’s tutor, Miss Prism (Anna Massey), and the local rector, Dr. Chasuble (Tom Wilkinson), quite touching.

Absurd circumstances, sharp wordplay and piercing social commentary all combine to make this a very funny adaptation of a literary classic. The actors seem to relish their roles, and the direction helps the movie have contemporary appeal despite the 19th-century setting. All in all, not a bad way to get Wilde.

A Dizzying Cast of Characters Explores Love in Valentine's Day

I was supposed to be a Valentine’s Day baby. Instead, I arrived a couple of days early, which suits me fine, since I tend to have more enthusiasm for Abraham Lincoln, whose birthday I share, than for the holiday that hasn’t been too eventful for me since the end of the elementary school cardboard Valentine mailboxes. Still, I’ve never resented the holiday. I enjoy exchanging Valentines with my parents and a couple of friends, and at some point during the week, I usually make it out to the video store or the theater to catch a sappy movie. Last year, it was Valentine’s Day, a romantic comedy with an expansive cast of characters whose lives intersect on February 14 in, or on the way to, Los Angeles.

Two years ago saw the release of He’s Just Not That Into You, which had a similarly high number of characters to keep track of. Structurally, the two are fairly similar, but Valentine’s Day, directed by Garry Marshall, feels a lot less cynical, celebrating love both young and old and not restricting it to romance, either. While that is a major focus of the movie, it also lauds family relationships, mentorships and general kindness to friend and stranger alike. I found it refreshingly positive.

As with He’s Just Not That Into You, I found myself zeroing in on certain characters and zoning out on others, simply because there were so many. The main character is Reed Bennett, a puppy dog of a florist who absolutely loves Valentine’s Day and who is in an especially exuberant mood this year because his girlfriend has just accepted his marriage proposal. Ashton Kutcher plays Reed, and he surprised me in the role because usually, the mere presence of Kutcher in a movie might be enough to dissuade me from watching. I generally find him obnoxious, but here, he is thoroughly lovable, as is Jennifer Garner, who plays his childhood chum, elementary school teacher Julia Fitzpatrick – though that didn’t surprise me much, as she’s been one of my favorite actresses since her thoroughly endearing turn in 13 Going on 30.

Reed’s idyllic day is about to take a troubling turn. What everyone in the audience realizes long before he does is that his girlfriend is just not that into him – and furthermore, sweet-natured Julia is. But she has a romantic partner of her own, and he has a secret that could wreak havoc on her happiness. Aside from Reed and Julia, I was most interested in Hector Elizondo, always an actor I enjoy, as Edgar, a hopeless romantic still very much in love with his wife after decades of marriage and now ready to pass some wisdom on to his young grandson Edison (Bryce Robinson), who is determined to show the object of his affections just how much he cares. These four characters give us a strong sense of the differences between puppy love, adult romance and mature love that reflects a lifetime together.

Lots of other characters experience love in a variety of ways, too, and it’s fun to see how the different characters interconnect. At the same time, there’s little opportunity to really get to know most of the characters. The movie boasts a dizzying cast list full of familiar names: Jessica Alba, Kathy Bates, Jessica Biel, Bradley Cooper, Eric Dane, Patrick Dempsey, Jamie Foxx, Topher Grace, Anne Hathaway, Queen Latifah, Taylor Lautner, George Lopez, Taylor Swift, Shirley MacLaine, Julia Roberts, Larry Miller, Kristen Schaal… There’s scarcely time to pick them out before we’re on to a new scene with new characters to keep track of, and it’s a constant guessing game to figure out what one storyline has to do with the others beyond the general theme.

Some of the situations in the movie are a bit on the risqué side, but the focus here is more often on love than lust, which I appreciated. The film’s biggest flaw is probably that it’s trying to do too much at once. Still, I was more touched than confused by the end of the movie, and while I wouldn't rank it among the best romantic comedies out there, Valentine’s Day makes for pretty enjoyable viewing and may just leave you with a better appreciation of the holiday that inspired it.

Roxaboxen Joins Terabithia as a World of Pure Imagination

Yesterday, I finished the sixth book in the Trixie Belden series, in which Trixie and her friends spend the Christmas holiday in Arizona. Apparently I couldn’t get enough because today I was back again, this time courtesy of Roxaboxen, a picture book written by Alice McLerren and beautifully illustrated by Caldecott Award winner Barbara Cooney.

It was my familiarity with Cooney that led me to pick this book up on my last trip to the library, having no idea what it was about. As I read it, I was drawn into the charm of what Roxaboxen turns out to be: a magical town created by a group of children in Yuma, Arizona. What’s extra cool about this is that the book is rooted in the childhood memories of McLerren’s mother and other relatives. It reminds me of the mystical kingdom that young best friends Jess and Leslie create for themselves in Katherine Paterson’s Bridge to Terabithia and also of the community of the Lost Boys in Peter Pan. These are kids using a few basic materials and a lot of imagination to create a haven where they reign supreme.

McLerren writes in a sparse but lovely style suited to the barren beauty of the desert where the story is set. Roxaboxen exists atop a rocky hill, with no vegetation but cacti and other forbidding plants. It’s not much to look at – to the untrained adult eye, anyway. But the children who live nearby work to release the wondrous town they know lies latent from its prison of dirt and stone. They build houses out of crates. They build streets out of pebbles and “drive” on them with “cars,” an activity that consists of walking or running with a round object in hand for a steering wheel. They add slowly to their village, with shops and restaurants and currency, and gradually, it becomes a truly breathtaking place, partly because of their artistic creativity but mostly because of the way it has begun to take shape in their minds. The more time they spend in Roxaboxen, the more real it becomes to them.

Cooney’s illustrations capture this mingled sense of simplicity and awe. She shows us what is literally there, but in such a way that it seems like so much more. The gentle paintings are so enticing that I found myself wishing I could step into Roxaboxen myself, much like Mary Poppins hops into Bert’s chalk drawing on the London pavement. The layout of the town is appealing, and the coloring of the sand and the sky is just gorgeous, especially in the final, wistful two-page spread, in which the children who built Roxaboxen remember it fondly as their twilight years approach.

A warm celebration of imagination and companionship and the power one has to enhance the other, Roxaboxen is pure enchantment.

Everybody Has a Story in Trixie Belden and the Mystery in Arizona

I’ve been devouring the Trixie Belden series this month, and I’ve now come to the conclusion of the original six written by Julie Campbell. Prior to this volume, she leaves 13-year-old Trixie, her best friends Honey Wheeler and Di Lynch, her brothers Mart and Brian and Honey’s adopted brother Jim in what, for me, is pretty familiar territory: New York. The terrain and climate is comparable to Pennsylvania’s, but in the sixth book, I took a trip along with them to sunny Arizona for a sojourn on the other end of the country.

In Trixie Belden and the Mystery in Arizona, Di’s Uncle Monty, the character at the heart of the mystery in the fourth book, has invited the Bob-Whites – the club that includes the Beldens, Honey, Di and Jim – to spend Christmas with him at his ranch. Trixie’s afraid that she can’t go because she’s in danger of failing math, but she is given permission – on the condition that she spend a good part of her vacation studying. Little does she realize that she’s about to add to that workload considerably until, for the second book in a row, she volunteers the Bob-Whites to take over a job from someone who has suddenly quit. Why did the Orlando family, who were such dedicated and seemingly happy workers at Uncle Monty’s ranch, decide to clear out in such a hurry? When the Bob-Whites take their leave, will Uncle Monty be left without a staff?

This book is interesting in that the supporting characters from previous books play virtually no role. Instead, it’s all newly introduced characters interacting with the Bob-Whites. There’s also the fact that they are in such a novel situation. The southwest setting makes it fun, especially for someone like me who’s never been to Arizona, though it’s also a bit of a drawback, as Campbell sometimes gets a little carried away with delving into the history and geography of the region. There are lengthy conversations or monologues that mostly feel like information dumps. We get one on the plane in a chat with a very knowledgeable stewardess, and it seems to happen a lot at the ranch, especially whenever Tenny the cowboy is around. I picked up a lot of interesting tidbits from this, but at times it feels excessive; this is a novel, not a travelogue. But I bet there are plenty of folks who came away from the book thinking that Arizona would be a nice place to visit.

Because Di’s uncle owns the ranch, she feels like a fairly organic part of this story, and she is the first to make a breakthrough with one of the three “difficult guests” whose rooms the girls have to clean as part of their housekeeping duties. Each of these guests, along with several employees, is a mystery Trixie intends to crack, which doesn’t leave her much time for studying. Why do middle-aged “Mr. X.” and young “Calamity Jane” seem so despondent? Why is “Lady Astorbilt” so ornery? Why would Tenny adopt a phony accent? Why can’t pretty young Rosita return to school? And most importantly, where did the Orlandos go, why did they leave, and why didn’t Maria, the ranch’s cook and the daughter-in-law of the Orlando parents, go with them?

That’s a lot of puzzles to work out, and Trixie does do some deducing in this book, though mostly, she “solves” these mysteries by talking to people. As in the fifth book, there are no nefarious characters lurking in these pages, just odd events with circumstances that require some explanation. It’s fun getting to meet so many characters at once, and they’re all pretty distinct. Some of them have things in common with folks back home, too; particularly, easy-going Tenny’s rapport with the kids is similar to that of cheerful groom Regan, and Maria’s son Petey is a lot like Trixie’s little brother Bobby. While Trixie is on target in thinking that there is something strange going on at the ranch, I appreciated that Honey’s instincts toward thinking the best of people are also justified as the story unfolds.

The boys feel a little less involved in this book, though we get to see them preparing and serving meals, and Brian and Jim take turns tormenting Trixie with math problems. Not being very math-minded myself, I felt sorry for her having to spend so much of her trip poring over problems. Of course, she spends most of the rest of her time poring over problems, too – other people’s problems. Though she often suspects that folks are up to no good, once she gets the full story, she wants to help. That, after all, is the Bob-Whites’ mission. And can I just say that every one of these kids is not only hard-working but extremely generous? It didn’t surprise me in the least to see them stepping up to take over ranch duties; that seemed an obvious solution to the first problem that presented itself upon their arrival. But for none of them to show the slightest material interest in the $400 payment offered for their services – especially considering that, thanks to the last book, we know that $50 is enough to buy you a car – shows a generosity of spirit almost too expansive to be believed.

Everybody has a story. That’s the message we get from this book, where half a dozen backstories of characters we might never see again are explored. Some of them aren’t too surprising; I figured out Tenny’s right off the bat. Others are more cryptic; the Orlandos’ disappearance seems even more intriguing in light of the strange tales Petey tells about a previous excursion with his grandparents. If there’s a lesson to be learned here, aside from all the textbookish ones about Arizona and its people, it’s that getting to know people is a worthwhile exercise. Just because someone seems snappish or standoffish doesn’t mean she’s not worthy of friendship, and just because someone has a secret doesn’t mean he’s a criminal. Of course, I’m sure it won’t be long before some baddies show up again. But it’s Christmas, after all, and if this is what a holiday in the Southwest looks like, it sounds like a pretty good time to me!

The Little Island Explores Changes and Connections

I’ve always found islands fascinating. Perhaps it’s because they seem like little worlds unto themselves, like tiny planets that sailors stumble upon in the midst of a horrific storm. And with everything shrunk down so far, an island becomes a microcosm for the world at large. An island is an ideal setting for philosophical exploration, as LOST showed, and author Golden McDonald, otherwise known as Margaret Wise Brown of childhood classic Goodnight Moon, would seem to agree.

In The Little Island, a Caldecott-winning book artfully illustrated by Leonard Weisgard, we watch an island experience the change of seasons, which McDonald describes in vivid, poetic language. Just as I always capitalize Island when referring to the setting of LOST, McDonald always capitalizes Island throughout her story. She keeps us aware that there is more out there than just this Island, but we never see beyond the water that surrounds it. The place is steeped in mystery: “the fog came in from the sea / and hid the little Island / in a soft wet shadow.” On nearly every page, we see a different creature making its home here, unaware that anything lies beyond these shores.

I love the language that McDonald uses to bring the Island to such full life, and her decision to allow the Island to speak for itself is intriguing. Throughout most of the book, we merely see what happens on the Island, without any real characters to speak of aside from the stalwart Island itself. But then a cat comes ashore off a sailboat and becomes very curious. If this were LOST, he would be John Locke: capable, dangerous and obsessively inquisitive. He wants to know the Island’s secret. But will the Island cooperate?

There’s a great sense of serenity to this book, especially in the gently rocking cadence of the narration. It is a perfect match with the soothing illustrations, which depict the Island in sunlight and shadow. The egg-laying gulls making their nests high in rocky ledges seem to squawk in tune with a song of isolation, while the berries and butterflies burst out in a vibrant display. There’s so much to see and to explore even on such a tiny island.

The Little Island is about nature and the changing of the seasons, but it’s also about having faith – here simplistically described as “to believe what I tell you about what you don’t know” – and connectedness. The Island is “a part of the world / and a world of its own.” The kitten looks into the eye of the Island, and what it sees is beautiful, and what we see is beautiful as well, whether it’s the blossoms on the lone tree on a windy bluff or the fish that dance in the choppy waves lapping up against its shores. An enchanting little book.

Lightning McQueen Tries to Be His Buddy's Keeper in Look Out for Mater!

I’ve started seeing previews for the sequel to Cars, the 2006 Pixar movie set in a world entirely populated by vehicles. I loved the original movie, so I’m really looking forward to the second one. In the meantime, I’ve enjoyed returning to that world now and then via animated shorts and books, most of which heavily involve my favorite character, dim-witted but big-hearted tow truck Mater.

In the Little Golden Book Look Out for Mater!, written by Andrea Posner-Sanchez and illustrated by Ivan Boix Estudi, flashy racecar Lightning McQueen is happily settled in the tiny town of Radiator Springs. While he is famous now and receives visits from fans from all around the country, he’s happiest in the company of his sleek girlfriend Sally and rusty best buddy Mater. He and Mater have a lot of fun together, but the tow truck has a way of attracting trouble, so when Sally goes out of town, she makes Lightning promise to look after his friend and keep him out of mischief. But is that too tall an order?

Mater’s defining characteristic is enthusiasm, and that certainly comes across in this book. He wants everything to be an adventure. The most adventurous spot nearby is the gravel pit just outside of town. It’s full of exciting twists and turns, not to mention a very grumpy bulldozer who doesn’t want to be disturbed. Most of the book involves Lightning’s inner conflict as he tries to decide whether it’s better to let Mater have his fun or insist that he find a safer playground.

The characters in this book are recognizably themselves, but they don’t have a computer-animated look to them. Instead, they seem painted in a patchy, rather impressionistic style. It’s fun to see these characters portrayed in a slightly different artistic manner, and the landscapes look especially interesting this way. While none of the other major characters from the movie is mentioned by name, several show up at some point, so it’s fun to be on the lookout for them and point them out as they appear. Meanwhile, Big Bull the bulldozer is delightfully intimidating, especially in one illustration in which he materializes suddenly, glowering.

Look Out for Mater! is a cute book about playing it safe and watching out for your buddies. It is a little heavy-handed with its emphasis on avoiding situations that are clearly dangerous, but that’s not a bad point to drive home, since those are the very situations that so often appeal to spunky kids. It will be a while before we get to see Mater and Lightning on the big screen again, but books like this make the wait easier for fans of these endearing four-wheeled friends.

Edmond Dantes Is Counting on Revenge in The Count of Monte Cristo

When my brother was in early elementary school and I was in high school, the two of us often watched Wishbone together. This PBS series starred a Jack Russell Terrier in dual roles: an ordinary pet in one storyline and a classic literary character in another. I’ve always considered myself an avid reader, but that show introduced me to several literary classics. One was The Count of Monte Cristo.

The writers of Wishbone had a great way of distilling a novel down to about 15 minutes while still having it make sense. Nonetheless, The Count of Monte Cristo is a pretty hefty book, so what little I remembered about what little made its way to Wishbone wasn’t much. I had only a vague idea of the plot when I watched the 2002 film adaptation directed by Kevin Reynolds, with a screenplay by Jay Wolpert.

Edmond Dantes (James Caviezel) is a good man who is betrayed by his friends and thrown in jail for a crime he did not commit. During his long imprisonment, his bitterness festers, but he finds a productive way to channel his angst: by painstakingly digging his way out of prison along with an ancient abbot who’s tunneled in from a nearby cell. As a fan of Richard Harris, it was a kick for me to see him as this impish but wise character, one of his last roles. In fact, their quiet companionship may have been my favorite part of the movie.

But it’s only the beginning of Edmond’s long quest, for after his improbable escape, he must find a fabled treasure in order to restore his fortune, and then he intends to bring down his treacherous friends, one by one. Throughout this part of the movie, he is aided by Luis Guzman’s Jacopo, a good-humored man who is fiercely loyal to Edmond, to whom he owes his life, but troubled by his obsession with revenge, particularly on Fernand Mondego (Guy Pearce), who went on to marry Edmond’s true love, Mercedes (Dagmara Dominczyk).

Caviezel gives an intense performance as a decent man twisted by years of suffering. I like him best when he shares scenes with other individuals who bring out the best in him: the sage abbot, the cheerful Jacopo and Albert (Henry Cavill), Mercedes’ gentle son. The movie is packed with enough action for three, which is almost what it feels like; there’s Edmond’s time in the prison; his sojourn with the pirates, where he finds Jacopo; and finally, his reemergence as the Count of Monte Cristo. It’s a fairly long movie at more than two hours, but I never felt that it dragged.

One of these days, I should probably read The Count of Monte Cristo, and then the purist in me can start chronicling all the changes that were made. But with my limited familiarity, I found this adaptation an exciting and well-acted film that I’d readily recommend.

Celtic Thunder Presents a Christmas Concert to Treasure

This past September, Celtic Thunder filmed its Christmas concert in Poughkeepsie, NY. Since that’s only a state away, I seriously considered going, but the timing just didn’t work out. Instead, I bought the DVD and watched the festive presentation of these lads from Ireland and Scotland in the comfort of my living room. Celtic Thunder released two versions of a Christmas album in late 2010. This DVD incorporates every song from those albums, along with a couple of others. Plus, you have the fun of watching them as well as listening.

Neil Byrne, who has been with the group as an instrumentalist from the beginning but has recently been highlighted as a vocalist, starts things off with a jaunty rendition of It’s Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas that ends with a cheeky wink and an extra emphasis on the word “heart”. Later, he also gets When You Wish Upon a Star to himself, and though I wouldn’t normally call that a Christmas song, it fits in well and gives the program more balance.

Keith Harkin, Ryan Kelly and Damian McGinty all sing songs with a romantic edge here. Keith gets stuck with uber-annoying Last Christmas, but he changes it up and makes it sound a little less whiny, and he’s in his element with All I Want for Christmas Is You, which allows him to do those vocal runs he loves so much. Both of Ryan’s songs have a sultry edge to them. The smoky jazz of Let It Snow is enjoyable, but as he repeats the whole thing again, I can’t help feeling like the song could use another verse or two. On Baby, It’s Cold Outside, he and Belinda Murphy have a flirtatious rapport that feels playful rather than creepy, which is how that song usually strikes me.

But of the purely romantic songs, Damian’s energetic Our First Christmas Together, a Rat Pack-ish Phil Coulter original, is my favorite. It’s got a fresh, cheerful tone to it that captures the exuberance of young love. There’s also a charming moment in which he shares the spotlight with a little girl who’s clearly a big fan. Damian also puts his stamp on Winter Wonderland; his rendition has become the definitive version for me, and it’s extra fun on the DVD because there’s a fake snowfall to accompany it.

George Donaldson’s songs convey more of a sense of general goodwill. I Wish It Could Be Christmas Every Day captures the childlike excitement of the season, and it also allows him an opportunity to jump in with the band and do a little kick line. Going Home for Christmas, another Coulter original, feels particularly personal, since George, the only married man in the group, seems to battle homesickness more than the others. The instrumentation is fantastic in this one, as is the sense of giddy anticipation that George puts into his performance.

But Paul Byrom is the one who stands out to me most here, which is a little funny considering the fact that when I first began listening to the group, I was slow to embrace him. When it comes to solo numbers, he bears the weight of the religious part of Christmas all by himself. His operatic style is perfectly suited to Ave Maria, which he performs beautifully, but Christmas Morning Donegal is the moment on the DVD that really gives me goosebumps. This Coulter original starts out soft and mysterious, building to the magnificent chorus, which joyously recalls the wonder of a childhood Christmas morning. A local boys’ choir adds gorgeous harmonies, and the chimes and pipes add to the sense of enchantment in this song that makes such marvelous use of Adeste Fidelis. I was already really looking to this performance, and then, the day that I received the DVD, I found out that Paul was leaving the group, so this really feels like his swan song, even though he will be featured on the next Celtic Thunder release, which was recorded last year.

Then, of course, there are the group numbers, which have a magic all their own. These include a densely harmonic version of Silent Night, part of which is in Gaelic, and an a cappella rendition of Amazing Grace that is hands-down the most gorgeous version of the song that I have heard. They also perform Christmas 1915, the compelling World War I ballad included in their second album, and Neil, Keith and Ryan perform Hallelujah, which really isn’t Christmassy at all but still sounds awfully good. The concert ends with It’s the Most Wonderful Time of the Year / We Wish You a Merry Christmas, the medley used to heavily promote the album on television. It’s peppy and playful, and you probably get to see more personality from the lads, particularly in connection with each other, during this song than at any other point in the concert.

Of course, this isn’t really the time of year to be buying Christmas DVDs, but when you do get the urge to start listening to Christmas music again, I recommend this highly. It’s only about an hour long, but it really does feel like a complete program, and there’s a balance to it that neither of the CD releases quite achieves. I didn’t make it to Poughkeepsie to see this live, but I’m glad I can watch it at home whenever I want.

An Extraordinary Egg Hatches Something Unexpected

There are people who go through life looking for something amazing in every circumstance – and consequently finding it. This is an exciting way to live, since you never know what small discovery may be around the corner. It’s the outlook of Jessica, one of the three frogs in Leo Lionni’s An Extraordinary Egg, and this zest leads her to bring home a big pebble that turns out to be something even more interesting: an egg.

The egg, says Jessica’s know-it-all friend Marilyn, is a chicken’s egg. When it hatches, they all call it “the chicken”, but most young readers will probably already be aware of the fact that the creature that has emerged from the shell is not a chicken. Just hearing the frogs repeatedly call an alligator a chicken is a source of some amusement. Along with that humor, there is a sweetness to this story as the frogs so readily accept the newcomer, who manages to be independent from birth.

I enjoy Lionni’s painting style, which tends to be fairly simple, using basic shapes and colors to convey character and emotion in a minimalist way. His most impressive effort in terms of doing a lot with very little is little blue and little yellow, in which the main characters are a blue dot and a yellow dot. Though they have no facial features, they feel very expressive, and we always know which one is which, right up until the end. Here, the paintings are vibrant and expressive, but when the three frogs are together, I can’t tell the difference among them.

That’s partly because they’re all green, with the same eyes – white circles with black circles inside – and the same smiles. Their limbs look the same, and all three of them have brown shading. What’s more, after the egg shows up, they all start to act pretty similar. In the beginning, Jessica is an oddball by virtue of her exuberance, but all three of them find “the chicken” exciting. Jessica’s insistence upon enthusiasm finally led to something genuinely extraordinary, and now Marilyn and August have improved outlooks as a result.

It does seem a little strange that from that point in the story forward, the differences established at the beginning no longer seem in effect. The only difference is that Jessica can’t even begin to guess what this egg contains, whereas Marilyn and August think they have it all figured out. So there is a little lesson in there about being too cocky, even though, at the end of the story, they still believe that it was a chicken that hatched out of that egg.

Still, An Extraordinary Egg is a cute story for the 4 to 8 crowd. It’s a tale that celebrates friendship and looking upon the world with fresh eyes, expecting something exceptional every day. With that mindset, an extraordinary discovery is likely to be just around the corner.

Trixie Belden and the Mystery Off Glen Road Is Fun But Fairly Flimsy

When you live in the northeast, wicked winter weather is pretty common, but every once in a while a storm will come along that throws even the most seasoned residents for a loop. Such a storm is what sets the stage for most of the plot in Julie Campbell's Trixie Belden and the Mystery Off Glen Road, the fifth book in the series. Thirteen-year-old Trixie, her older brothers Mart and Brian, her best friend Honey Wheeler, Honey’s adopted brother Jim and their neighbor Di Lynch have just put the finishing touches on the hut that is to serve as headquarters for their club, the Bob-Whites of the Glen. It’s perfect – and then an icy wind sends a tree crashing into it, and if they don’t make some expensive repairs quickly, all of their hard work will be ruined.

It’s a rule of the club that its members are only allowed to contribute money that they have earned themselves to any club projects. This is a nice way to ensure that everyone pitches in and feels like an equally valued part of the group, even though the Beldens have considerably less money than the Wheelers and the Lynches. Nonetheless, in an extreme emergency situation, I would think that the club members might all agree that a loan from a wealthy parent would not be out of order. Instead, honorable Brian, the only one with any earned money to his name, insists upon using the fifty dollars that he saved up to buy a neighbor’s jalopy in order to renovate the clubhouse. As a result, Trixie hatches a complicated scheme that will allow him to get the car after all.

For the most part, it’s not so much a mystery as a project, a race against time to see if the boys can finish the clubhouse repairs before the weather turns nasty again and if Trixie can continue to fool her family into thinking that she has a raging crush on Honey’s cousin. The act is so absurd that it’s a wonder anybody takes her seriously, but it is entertaining to see Trixie attempting to convince everyone of her infatuation. Her reason for doing so is clever, albeit convoluted. The bit of mystery comes in with the temporary job that Trixie and Honey get patrolling the Wheeler grounds. Trixie is sure there’s a poacher loitering on the Wheeler property. But is there?

You have to suspend your disbelief a bit with this installment, as the plot often hinges on characters acting in unnatural ways. Then again, most of it doesn’t feel too far removed from the character traits established in earlier books. Trixie is determined and secretive. Honey is usually willing to go along with Trixie’s schemes. The Bob-Whites are hard-working and honorable. Trixie’s parents tend to roll with the punches. Some of that seems a little too exaggerated here, but that didn’t stop me from getting sucked into the story.

After the thrilling climax of the fourth book, this one fizzles a bit, but I didn’t mind all that much, since I figure maybe Trixie, who has a tendency to jump to conclusions, ought to be off-base now and then. Mysteries don’t always come along just because they would make things more interesting. Then again, this is a mystery series, so readers as well as Trixie may have some disappointment to contend with.

In the second book, I found Honey’s cousin Ben entertaining and hoped he would show up again, but this time, he annoyed me, except in connection with Trixie’s six-year-old brother Bobby. Meanwhile, Di, only officially introduced a book earlier, spends most of her time “off-screen”; her only real contribution is to keep Ben, a practical joker, occupied and, hence, out of everyone’s hair. Though Mart and Trixie have some nice moments in this installment, he irritated me a bit too, mostly because of his obsession with calling Trixie and, to a lesser extent, Honey “squaws”. He must use the term a couple dozen times throughout the book, and though he’s just teasing, there’s definitely a derogatory tone to it, and reading it today, it strikes me as culturally insensitive.

Speaking of culture, one thing I found interesting about this volume was the number of literary allusions. I’ve been paying attention to see which books, stories and poems were considered worthy of referencing back in the middle of the century, so I enjoyed hearing the teens talk about Robin Hood, Alice in Wonderland, Pinocchio, Romeo and Juliet and The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, among others. Maybe they’ve all got books on the brain now that they’re back in school.

I’d like to think that there are contemporary kids who sit around making allusions to Trixie Belden books. If they do, though, I suspect that The Mystery Off Glen Road might not be one that gets referenced all that often. It’s an enjoyable read, but compared to its predecessors, something seems just a little “off”.

Squirrel's New Year's Resolution: Great for New Year's, Squirrel Appreciation Day or Anytime

It’s January 21st. How are you doing on your New Year’s resolutions? In Squirrel’s New Year’s Resolution, written by Pat Miller and Kathi Ember, Squirrel encounters the concept of resolutions for the first time and is intrigued. She first hears about them on the radio, which sends her off to the library to do some research. What could a resolution be, and how does one go about making one?

I love that Squirrel’s first idea is to go to the library for answers. More specifically, she wants to consult the knowledgeable librarian, and Bear provides her with a useful definition: “a promise you make to yourself to be better or to help others.” That’s a limited but pretty decent explanation that people of any age can apply to themselves. Squirrel likes the idea, but she can’t think of anything specific that she can do, and she spends the rest of the book trying to figure it out, growing more discouraged as each friend she consults shares his or her resolution. Will she ever be able to find one of her own?

Resolutions are a great idea, a way to nudge you in the direction of doing something great that you may feel yourself too timid or lazy or unmotivated to do. But they’re just words, and making that list of goals – or just a single goal in the case of the characters in this book – is less important than taking action. It takes until the end of the book for Squirrel to hit upon a worthwhile resolution, but when she does, she realizes that she has already been carrying it out all day.

I like the story’s emphasis on helping other people, which is ultimately more of a focus than self-improvement, though that comes into play too, especially with one of the characters wanting to learn how to read. Squirrel is a very kind-hearted creature, and showing consideration for her friends just comes naturally to her. All of the characters in the book are lovable: wise Bear, encouraging Dr. Owl, enthusiastic Skunk, good buddies Mole and Turtle, friendly Rabbit and even grumpy Porcupine. They help demonstrate the value of having a diverse group of friends who can all learn from each other. The characters in this book are anthropomorphic but fairly realistic-looking. I especially like the detail on Squirrel’s bushy gray tail.

We’re three weeks into the new year now, but it’s never too late to start making an extra effort to be kind to others or to do something a little out of one’s comfort zone. Squirrel’s New Year’s Resolution may be ideal for January, but its sweet celebration of friendship is worth lauding all year long.

Say Goodnight to the Sun and Squirrels Alike With Last Song

With some books, the illustrations are obvious accompaniments to the text. In other cases, the words and the pictures almost tell two different stories. Such is the case with Last Song, written by James Guthrie and illustrated by Eric Rohmann. The text of the book is a short poem along the lines of Goodnight Moon but much more truncated. Indeed, only three objects are specifically mentioned, and none of them is the reason I checked this book out of the library.

When I did a search for squirrel books at the library, this one came up. No squirrels are mentioned in the text, but the illustrations are full of them. In the pictures, this is the story of three squirrels. They all have brown fur and cheerful expressions, and they look to be about the same size; my guess would be that they are all supposed to be siblings, since they share a nest.

This is a very short book that contains only 27 words stretched out across several pages, all in one sentence. It’s a very soothing sort of rhyme, but this is not a story that’s going to take up much time at bedtime. I can’t imagine it taking much more than five minutes, and that’s if you stop to study each of the pictures. The only way it might be stretched out longer is if you disregarded the text and encouraged your child to provide new narration for what the squirrels are doing throughout their day. But with only 11 two-page spreads and one illustration taking up a single page, even that probably won’t take long.

Not only is this book short, it’s physically small, a square that’s only about seven and a half inches on any side. It’s not that much bigger than a gift book such as those created by Bradley Trevor Grieve. Hence, there’s less to look at, though what’s there is quite lovely, particularly the atmosphere, hazy and bright early in the book, dark and star-studded at the end. The squirrels are charming as well, always chasing each other in a flurry of activity, except when they finally return to the tree to rest after a busy day. Another nice element of the book is the cover, which is extra-thick and has a pattern of leaves and acorns on it. Cut out of the middle in the front is an amorphous hole, through which we can see the sleeping squirrels. It’s a pretty neat way to feel we’re getting a peek at them.

Last Song is a cute book that certainly makes for appropriate Squirrel Appreciation Day reading. It retails for $11, and I’m just not sure there’s enough there to make it worth the price of the book for most people, but if you have a young child who really loves squirrels, give Last Song a try.

In Kacy Cook's Nuts, Squirrels Are Best Appreciated From Afar

Last year, I discovered that January 21 is Squirrel Appreciation Day. This year, I started loading up on squirrel-related books as soon as January arrived in anticipation of this charming holiday, which led me to Nuts, the debut intermediate novel by Kacy Cook.

In this 2010 book, Nell is a homeschooled 11-year-old who lives an intellectually stimulating life with her two younger brothers. One day, they discover an orphaned infant squirrel squealing in the yard. After some debate, they take the squirrel inside to rescue it from a neighboring cat. Some research online gives Nell an idea of how to proceed – though she carefully ignores the warnings that injured or orphaned wildlife should be taken to a rehabilitator. Nell wants to take care of this squirrel herself, and she’s convinced that if she does a good enough job, she’ll be able to keep it as a pet.

Nell, who serves as the book’s narrator, is an engaging character. It’s easy to understand her reluctance to part with the squirrel, to which she soon adds another, as she discovers the brother of the first just a little later. The squirrels become her special project; though her brothers remain involved in their care, the bulk of the responsibility falls to her, and that’s the way she wants it. These are her babies, and they quickly become her obsession.

The book seems in slight conflict with itself, since Cook very clearly intends to impress upon her young readers that they should not try this at home, yet at the same time, she sort of gives them a primer on how to do exactly that. Maybe she’s hoping that when they truly understand how much work is involved, children like Nell will lose interest in such a task and decide to leave it up to the professionals. In any case, the book does get pretty preachy, which may be a turn-off to some.

In addition to the central message that caring for a wild animal is difficult, dangerous and sometimes even illegal, Cook sneaks in some other heavy-handed messages too. Through the character of Russ, a boy Nell initially dislikes but ultimately develops a crush on, Cook advocates hunting as a means of population control. She also seems eager to demonstrate the virtues of homeschooling and both the value and danger of the Internet. Finally, she encourages children to be honest; Nell’s little lie at the beginning of the book spins out of her control, leading to unforeseen consequences.

The overtly didactic nature of this book sometimes got in the way of my enjoyment, but it is an interesting story with likable characters and a neat glimpse at how squirrels grow and change from infancy to adulthood. For squirrel lovers around the 10-to-12-year-old range, Nuts balances fascinating facts with the old adage that if you love something, you must be willing to let it go.

How Many Ways Can You Cut a Pie? Squirrel Will Soon Find Out...

When I went on the lookout for books to review for Squirrel Appreciation Day, I didn’t expect a lesson on fractions to get tossed into the mix. But that’s precisely what How Many Ways Can You Cut a Pie? is. It’s very basic, but young children who read it should come away with the general gist of what fractions are.

This book, written by Jane Moncure and illustrated by Linda Hohag and Lori Jacobson, is a part of the Magic Castle Reader series, in which each book begins with an explanation that a library is like a magic castle and a book is a “word window”. Here, the window opens upon Squirrel, who’s busy preparing for the pie contest that Pig is holding. She’s already been collecting acorns, so she cheerfully makes her famous acorn pie. First one friend and then another arrives to ask her to share the delicious-smelling dessert, but she explains that it’s an entry in the pie contest. However, she will share once the contest is over.

The book introduces the concept of fractions by having the first visitor ask if she can divide the pie in half so they can each eat half and the second asking her to divide it into thirds. Eventually, one more friend arrives on the scene, and on the final page, Squirrel divides her pie into four pieces. It’s not the same pie that she started out with; there’s some complication on that point, as the piggy judge devours the entire pie, much more than she intended to eat. As a goodwill gesture, she collects a new basket full of acorns for Squirrel in hopes that she will make another pie and share this one with her friends.

If I were Squirrel, I’d be a little perturbed about having to bake another pie from scratch, especially since after eating her entire pie, Pig expects a piece of it the second time around. Nonetheless, Pig does apologize and does do the work of finding more acorns for the master baker, so the story does teach a lesson about owning up to one’s mistakes and forgiving those who make them.

After the story is over, we get a two-page spread showing seven pies, each divided into a different number of pieces, from two to eight. What’s missing from this is the inclusion of the word “fraction”. This book simply deals with the idea of dividing objects into smaller pieces.

This is a simple book with large print and one or two basic sentences on each page. The illustrations are cartoonish; other characters include a mouse and a frog, and they all wear clothes. The backdrop of the woods is nice, with a definite autumnal flavor as fallen leaves dot the ground.

As a story, there’s not much there, but for a very basic intro to fractions, How Many Ways Can You Cut a Pie? fits the bill.

Don and Roy Freeman Follow a Squirrel Through Washington, D. C. in One More Acorn

Author-illustrator Don Freeman is best known for Corduroy, the classic picture book about a teddy bear who lives in a department store and longs for a home. He created many memorable books in his lifetime, but one of his most cherished ideas never saw the light of day until last year.

As his son, Roy Freeman, explains in a note in the back, his father began working on One More Acorn, a story about a squirrel in Washington, D. C., during a trip to the Capitol in 1963. He spent so much time on it during that trip that he set up a meeting with his editor to talk about publishing the book, but before the meeting occurred, President John F. Kennedy was assassinated, and Freeman was too heartbroken to continue the project. It was only recently that Roy discovered his artwork and narration for the story, and with the help of artist Jody Wheeler, he brought his late father’s book to fruition.

One More Acorn is a beautifully illustrated tale about a gray squirrel – the father of his family – foraging for acorns to help his family get through the winter. As he darts here and there, hoping to find the nuts he buried weeks ago, fiery leaves surround him on every tree – and on the ground as well. He finds plenty of acorns, but he has his eyes on a particular prize: one extra-large nut he remembers finding long ago. Getting to it will require agility and cleverness.

Meanwhile, although the text only identifies the Washington Monument, the illustrations offer a charming tour of several of Washington, D. C.’s most prominent landmarks. Along with the interesting setting is a subtle message about the value of trees. Earl the Squirrel stumbles upon a Plant a Tree parade, and we see schoolchildren planting saplings. Then, of course, there’s the fact that he and his family live in a tree and that trees provide his food. A tree also helps him to get out of a tight spot toward the end of the book.

The story here is simple but enjoyable. There’s a soothing repetition to his interactions with his family, and it’s fun to get the squirrel’s perspective n things. For instance, when he sees the children doing their planting, he speculates that they, too, are on the lookout for acorns.

One More Acorn has a very realistic look to it, and while Earl and is family are anthropomorphized, they look and act as normal squirrels do. On one level, this is a little story about a squirrel preparing for cold weather, but it’s also a sort of love letter to the nation’s Capitol, whose atmosphere and excitement is beautifully captured here. If you got a kick out of Corduroy, you’ll want to have a look at this unique father-son collaboration.

David Sedaris and Ian Falconer Present the Darkly Humorous Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk

When I discovered in September that David Sedaris, one of my favorite authors introduced to me by a college class, had come out with a new book, I was excited. And being the squirrel enthusiast that I am, I loved the title - Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk: A Modest Bestiary - and the cover illustration. But I didn’t rush out and get it for myself. Instead, I bought a copy for my brother for Christmas, since he likes Sedaris as much as I do.

And then on Christmas morning, I realized that he’d had the same idea, which is especially nifty considering that Sedaris dedicated the book to one of his sisters. “For Erin, Christmas 2010,” reads Nathan’s stylish inscription. “Being a lass who loves squirrels, chipmunks and a good read, I hope this book helps you to ‘be of good cheer’!” We promptly had Dad take the obligatory photo of the two of us holding our identical books, and then we were free to peruse them at our pleasure.

Sedaris, a humorist widely known among National Public Radio enthusiasts, generally writes memoir-type essays, many of which are howlingly funny. At times, they’re also quite moving. In his stories, he introduces some pretty shady characters, but there’s always his comforting narrative presence to fall back on. He comes across as a man with a sharp wit but often a timid manner, especially in his younger years, and despite a twisted sense of humor, he seems like a fundamentally decent guy.

Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk is something of a departure for him. It’s a book of adult fables in which each story focuses on a different animal, or most often a pair of animals. Some of the stories have more characters, but many only have two of any consequence, and there are lots of conversations between incompatible creatures as a result. Ian Falconer, creator of the children’s book series about Olivia the pig, furnishes illustrations, usually one or two per story, but make no mistake: these are not meant for children.

There’s profanity aplenty, along with some rather lewd language. More than that, these stories are violent, with at least one character winding up dead in almost every single story. I guess Sedaris aims to demonstrate that life is brutal, and Falconer illustrates that well. His drawings are limited to a color scale of blacks, whites and reds, and the red is often used to indicate blood. The most grotesque illustrations in the book are found in two back-to-back stories, The Crow and the Lamb and The Sick Rat and the Healthy Rat.

With just one exception, all of the story titles are pairs of animals like the above or a single animal, as in The Motherless Bear, a cautionary tale about trying to milk your own misery for too long, and The Faithful Setter, about the trials of marriage and the rewards of fidelity. The main character in the former is one of the most annoying in the book, while the protagonist in the latter is one of the most likable. It’s one of only two stories written in the first-person, and in both, I felt a sense of connection with Sedaris himself missing in the other chapters. The rest seem pretty detached, but these two feel personal, and the narratorial voice is not far removed from Sedaris’s own.

While the setter story has to do with weathering a rocky marriage, The Grieving Owl, the last and longest story in the book, is about a widower who seems to have enjoyed quite a happy, albeit brief, marriage. The speaker is a gentle soul who doesn’t seem suited for the predatory life he’s been born into. He feels sorry for the prey he catches, and in the wake of his wife’s death, he tries to fill the void in his life by giving his victims a chance to teach him something fascinating about the world in exchange for their freedom. A clever and compassionate soul living amongst his uncouth and uncultured family members, he dares to live life on his own terms until zest for life wears down the edges of his loneliness. It ends the book on a refreshingly positive note.

Most of the stories aren’t so optimistic. Characters get shot and injected with viruses. They have their necks wrung and their teeth bashed in. They get swallowed whole and have their eyes pecked out. Pretty grim stuff. Just about every kind of misfortune that could befall a creature is depicted or referenced. What’s more, most of the characters aren’t very nice. They badmouth each other in vivid language and play very nasty tricks on each other. There are several stories in which there is nothing appealing about the main character or characters. There usually is some little lesson one can take away from the tale, but the overriding theme seems to be, “Boy, is life depressing!” Then again, maybe he hopes that by using animals to illustrate inhumane behavior, we people might be a little more inclined to act humane.

Along with the two first-person stories, my favorite tale is The Squirrel and the Chipmunk, from which the cover illustration is drawn. One of the most serene pictures in the book, it shows the male squirrel and the female chipmunk holding hands from opposite sides of a tiny, candlelit table. Each has a half-full glass of wine and starry eyes. In the story, the two have fallen in love, despite the objections of friends and neighbors. They are certain that their love transcends such superficialities. But the chipmunk realizes that all of the negativity has stirred up doubts after the squirrel mentions his love for jazz. Never having heard of such a thing before, she panics and begins to imagine all the horrible things it could be. It becomes her excuse for breaking things off with someone she adores. There’s nothing morbid about this story, but it certainly is a bittersweet tale about prejudices, reservations and regrets in the realm of romance.

If you’ve never read David Sedaris before, I’m not sure Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk is the place to start. I’d first recommend one of his essay collections, particularly Naked - the book that introduced me to his work in a Creative Nonfiction class - or Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim. I found I really missed his temperate narrative presence here. Additionally, while most of his books contain a liberal mix of the beautiful and the ghastly, most of the stories here are ultimately pretty gloomy. Nonetheless, there’s wisdom to be found in these pages, and if you like dark humor, then I would certainly give it a whirl. I waited until Squirrel Appreciation Day to post my review, but mostly, this is a book that makes me appreciate being human.

A Squirrel Attempts an Apartment Break-In in Nuts to You!

I’ve always wanted to have squirrels hanging around my house. Alas, nothing we put out seems to tempt them. In Lois Ehlert’s Nuts to You!, the narrator has a squirrel hanging around her apartment, seemingly bent on infiltration. The spunky child, who we never see, doesn’t much like that idea, though she seems to get a bit of a kick out of watching the bushy-tailed bandit attempt entry. She’s confident in the knowledge that her strategy will stop him in his tracks.

I don’t actually know for sure that the narrator is female, but considering that the author is a woman and she based the book on her own experience, that’s how I would imagine the child. It could just as easily be a boy speaking, but given the reference to Mom being mad at the squirrel for digging in the garden, it’s safe to assume the narrator is a kid.

The story is told in verse, with couplets. On all but two of the pages, the lettering is white; otherwise it’s black. The font is jumbo and easy to read, at least for the verses; scattered throughout the pages are tiny labels of various plants and animals. The words identifying them are unobtrusive, so they don’t interfere with the story, but you do run the risk of not noticing them at all; I didn’t my first time around. There’s more factual information in the back of the book, with four pages that discuss the classification, teeth, feet, tails, nests and food of squirrels.

The illustrations in the book are interesting. The creatures look mostly true-to-life; of the picture books I read this year in anticipation of Squirrel Appreciation Day, this one is definitely the least anthropomorphized. Squirrels and birds alike do have rather curious eyes, just black circles in larger circles – white for the squirrel, gray or yellow for the birds. Vibrant flowers, butterflies and other wildlife offset the drab brick red of the apartment building and the grayish brown of the squirrel.

I’ve never had a squirrel try to break into my house, but I have tossed peanuts at them on various occasions, just as the young narrator does. They generally respond quite positively to such an action, and it’s always fun to see what they will do with the prize that they have claimed. Nuts to You! captures the excitement of one of these encounters, and it shows just how much wildlife there is to be found even in the middle of a bustling city. Because the book is extra tall, it may not fit easily on a shelf, but the oversized pages are worth that minor inconvenience. This is a small moment that makes a big impression. I just wish that squirrel would come visit me!

Watch Facebook's Beginning in The Social Network

In the few years since its creation, Facebook has really exploded in popularity. Most of my friends and relatives use it, and I find myself on the site often. I love the sense of connectedness. So I found it fascinating to see this website’s beginnings in David Fincher’s The Social Network.

Written by Aaron Sorkin and based on the book by Ben Mezrich, The Social Network stars Jesse Eisenberg as Mark Zuckerberg, founder of Facebook and now one of the richest men in the world. In the movie, he comes across as jittery and surly, either talking a mile a minute or slumping in stony silence. When it’s the former, he’s exhausting, while the latter just comes across as disagreeable. We get the sense that he’s a genius when it comes to website design but a disaster in the realm of social interaction. Mostly, he seems oblivious rather than malicious; nonetheless, if this portrayal is anything close to reality, it’s not a very flattering portrait.

Eisenberg disappears into the role, and just as impressive is Armie Hammer, who plays buff, WASPish twins Cameron and Tyler Winkelvoss, who proposed an idea to Zuckerberg for a website with striking similarities to proto-Facebook. Hammer makes each twin distinct while still often in sync with each other; there’s humor in the united front they present, tension in the disagreements that arise over what to do about their Zuckerberg problem. They generally come across as likable, albeit rather cocky.

Probably the most outright obnoxious character is Justin Timberlake’s Sean Parker, a hard-living entrepreneur who helps take Facebook to the next level. Meanwhile, the most sympathetic character is Zuckerberg’s best friend, Eduardo Saverin (Andrew Garfield). He’s the one who put down the initial money to create Facebook, and he stood by his friend and helped promote the company in its early stages, only to be left out of the loop later. He seems like a decent, normal guy who’s a bit on the timid side and who really gets taken advantage of.

The movie cuts back and forth between the early days of Facebook and the trial during which the Winkelvosses and Eduardo are separately suing Zuckerberg. This technique means that we generally have a pretty good idea of what’s about to happen in the 2003/2004 portion of the film, but that didn’t detract from my enjoyment of the movie. Additionally, though I didn’t really notice it, my brother loved the score so much he bought the soundtrack as soon as we got home from the theater.

I think the immense popularity and relevance of Facebook has a lot to do with the film’s appeal, but I suspect it stands as a well-executed story whether or not Facebook is a part of your life. If it is, though, check out The Social Network for sure and see the strange journey that led to a social paradigm shift.

The Bob-Whites Expand Despite an Imperiled Clubhouse in Trixie Belden and The Mysterious Visitor

In the second volume of A Series of Unfortunate Events, Lemony Snicket introduces the man who is perhaps my favorite minor character in the series, a reptile enthusiast known to the Baudelaire orphans as Uncle Monty. He’s eccentric, adventurous and thoroughly charming, and the orphans adore him. In Trixie Belden and the Mysterious Visitor, Julie Campbell introduces an Uncle Monty as well, but this fellow is not so unanimously loved by the Bob-Whites of the Glen, the secret club that includes 13-year-old Trixie Belden and Honey Wheeler, along with Trixie’s older brothers Mart and Brian, Honey’s adopted older brother Jim and the newest member, Trixie and Honey’s classmate, Diana Lynch.

Di and Trixie used to be close friends, but their relationship suffered after Di’s father struck it rich. Now, thanks to Honey’s efforts, they’ve reconnected. Unlike Honey, who has been rich all her life, Di can’t get used to her lavish new situation, and instead of reveling in her family’s riches, she despises everything about being wealthy, especially having an overbearing butler. But it’s when her long-lost uncle turns up out of the blue that she really becomes miserable. This is also when the Bob-Whites step in to offer her a spot in their club in hopes that their friendship will improve her outlook. Soon, they’re caught up in another puzzling mystery.

Trixie, always in detective mode, suspects that Uncle Monty may be an imposter merely hoping to cash in on Mr. Lynch’s newfound wealth. This is a plausible scenario since his sister, Di’s mother, never knew him and so probably wouldn’t know the difference. But Trixie is prone to flights of fancy, and at first, none of the other Bob-Whites think much of her hypothesis. Most of the story, then, is concerned with her trying to find evidence to back up her theory.

Monty is a peculiar character who likes to tell wild tales and throw extravagant parties. At times, he seems quite affable, and Di’s mother loves spending time with him, but he oversteps his bounds as a house guest, annoying Di’s father so much that he is willing to do almost anything to get him to leave. He’s none too fond of Trixie, either, but then she does have a habit of arousing the irritation of many adults of her acquaintance with her inquisitive nature. She has some clever ideas that she believes could provide her with proof to back up her suspicions, but she can’t investigate without getting into some pretty risky situations.

Although the Bob-Whites spend a lot of time together in this book, the main mystery is mostly Trixie’s show, at least for the majority of the novel. The rest of the club has other concerns: what to do about their clubhouse, which has attracted the attention of Celia, a maid at the Wheeler estate, who will soon be married to Tom, their friendly chauffeur. She thinks it would make the perfect cottage for them, and Honey’s father has agreed to give it to the newlyweds, which means that all the money the teenagers have been earning and all the hours they’ve put in fixing the shack will be for naught, and they’ll be left without headquarters. I found myself just as interested in how this problem would be solved as I was in whether or not Uncle Monty was who he claimed to be.

In the third Trixie book, Mart and Brian burst upon the scene together, full of the enthusiasm that comes with being home after a long time away, and at first, I saw them more as a duo than as individuals. In this fourth book, it’s easier to see their distinct personalities, and while I like them both, I especially get a kick out of Mart, who teases Trixie mercilessly but is more like her than he would readily admit. I love the rapport between them, and his grandiloquent way of expressing himself often makes me chuckle.

Classically beautiful Di is likable enough, but her woe-is-me outbursts get a little tiresome. She seems to have a rather delicate disposition, and I can’t see her taking a very active role in solving the mysteries to come. Then again, Honey was pretty dainty in the beginning too, so Di may simply have some growing to do. While I don’t think she’s as dynamic as the other two girls, it will be interesting to see what she adds to the mix in future books.

For the first time in the series, Trixie and her friends are in school, so they have to deal with homework on top of chores, jobs, clubhouse work and mystery-solving. I had to laugh at how much Trixie moans at having to write an essay about her summer; it only needs to be 200 words long, and she probably had the most exciting summer of anyone in the class. It’s also fun to see them celebrate Halloween, though this is probably the point in the story at which Di is most grating, since she is so utterly horrified at the thought of giving a party that makes use of her family’s resources in any way.

Trixie Belden and the Mysterious Visitor is a fun mystery with an intriguing suspect. It introduces a major new character, along with a couple of new locations, and while most of it is fairly sedate, two scenes are among the most intense and exciting in the series thus far. At the end of the book, Trixie muses that she’s sure another adventure is just around the corner, and I quite agree. On to book five!

A Little Brave Makes a Big Difference in Hiawatha and the Big Flood

One of my favorite classic Disney shorts is Little Hiawatha, so I was tickled to come across a Disney’s World of Reading book with another story featuring the plucky young brave. In Hiawatha and the Big Flood, we get to see Hiawatha in the context of his tribe, and he really does look little as the adults tower over him with condescending smiles on their faces when he expresses his desire to join them on their hunt.

While there is no dialogue in Little Hiawatha, there is some here as he speaks to his elders, as well as his sister. The stubborn streak so evident in that short is present here as he goes off on his own to climb a tall tree that will allow him to watch the braves begin their hunt. Meanwhile, his connection to wildlife proves especially important here when a rainstorm leaves the hunters stranded in the middle of the river. His furry friends are eager to help. But what can they do?

This is a cute story demonstrating that there is more than one way to play a useful role in society and that adults would do well not to overlook the potential contributions of youngsters. I’m sure that most children, like Hiawatha, have felt frustrated at times because they are excluded from something exciting. This story captures that feeling of bitter disappointment. But Hiawatha doesn’t just sit around feeling sorry for himself. He puts his creativity and his allies to good use and finds a way to help the men who wouldn’t give him the time of day before.

The story is geared toward early readers, with two or three short sentences on each page. The narrative has a slightly clipped style to it, but the story still comes across well. Nonetheless, I would say that the illustrations are the most interesting aspect of the book. The short is a beautifully animated precursor to Bambi, and this book carries echoes of that majesty. The landscapes are especially lovely, and it’s fun to point out the different types of animals, including deer, rabbits, robins and beavers. Hiawatha himself is very cute with his rumpled hair and rosy cheeks, and it seems he’s grown just a bit because he’s not always losing his pants as he did in the short.

Hiawatha and the Big Flood is a brief but exciting tale that shows the power of nature to wreak havoc and the power of friendship to overcome disaster.

Let Jim Henson and His Friends Inspire You in It's Not Easy Being Green

Recently, Facebook rolled out its New Profile, an innovation I generally find rather tedious. However, I liked the new segment in the Info section that allows you to list people who have inspired you. I have lots of names to add, but I started things off with a shortlist of inspirational figures that included, among others, Walt Disney, John Denver and a man I associate with both: Jim Henson.

I grew up watching Henson’s Muppets on Sesame Street and later The Muppet Show and the movies that followed. Permeating every Henson project I’ve seen is youthful exuberance, a willingness to embrace one’s inner insanity and a sense that deep respect and affection among those who have very diverse backgrounds is possible. Watching the Muppets at their playful work never fails to make me feel more encouraged about our capacity to truly enjoy life, and to do so while genuinely caring for each other. Indeed, the two qualities seem intricately linked.

It’s Not Easy Being Green: And Other Things to Consider is a gift book of nearly 200 pages, throughout which Jim’s daughter Cheryl has included numerous quotes from her father as well as his characters and those who lived and worked closely with him. There are more quotes from him in here than anyone else, which gives the reader the pleasant feeling of absorbing wisdom directly from him. There’s a gentleness of spirit and greatness of vision that permeates the pages in these passages about what inspired him and what he hoped to accomplish with his creations. He saw them as entertainers, yes, but he also hoped to use them to urge people to be more considerate and more focused on similarities instead of differences.

“If our ‘message’ is anything,” reads a quote from him in the last chapter, “it’s a positive approach to life. That life is basically good. People are basically good.” That sense of optimism seems to have rubbed off on everyone around him, and it’s interesting to read their comments and get an idea of how these individuals channeled their creativity in positive directions under his influence.

The book is divided into five chapters: Listen to Your Heart, Dynamite Determination, Together We’ll Nab It, It Starts When We’re Kids and A Part of Everything and Everyone. There’s also an introduction, brief bios of everyone quoted in the book, a list of sources and an acknowledgments section. Alongside many of the quotes are doodles from the notebooks Jim kept over the years. These line drawings are whimsical and aptly demonstrate his playful side.

If you’re a fan of the Muppets, you’ll definitely want to check out this charming little volume. I’d also recommend it to anyone who could use a bit of a boost. Whether you’re feeling creatively stifled or despairing about the state of the world, I predict that reading this book will make you feel more upbeat. Jim Henson always embraced the possibilities. How much richer the world is as a result!

Number 2900: Comedy, Action and Romance Blend Seamlessly in Season One of Chuck

January has always been a bit of a dreary month, coming as it does after all the excitement and wonder of Christmas, and usually feeling like one long stretch of piercingly cold weather. But in recent years, I’ve come to look forward to January as a time for my family – including my brother, who’s home for the first two weeks of the month before heading back to college – to hunker down and spend our evenings bonding over great stories, especially those stretched out over the course of one or several television seasons. These days, I associate January primarily with TV-on-DVD marathons, so when I was browsing Amazon shortly after Christmas and found a killer deal on the first three seasons of Chuck, I took a leap. After all, I loved the one episode I saw a couple years back, and not just because of Dom Monaghan. Plus, I trust the taste of those I know who have praised the show. I figured I was past due for getting swept away in it myself, and by the end of the first scene I was confident I’d made a sound investment. So I now present my 2900th post…

Chuck, created by Chris Fedak and Josh Schwartz, stars Zachary Levi as Chuck Bartowski, a geeky, sweet-natured computer technician who lives with his sister and works at the Buy More, a fictionalized version of Best Buy, as a Nerd Herder (a label that simultaneously spoofs the Geek Squad and tips a hat at The Empire Strikes Back). There’s not a lot of excitement in his life until he opens an email from his former roommate and finds his brain embedded with millions of coded images containing thousands of government secrets. Now, he’s got two secret agents on his tail at all times, and it’s not enough for them to just keep an eye on him so that valuable information is protected. Chuck is in a unique position to help them track down the baddies and rescue their victims, so he soon finds himself caught up in a wild world of espionage, full of danger and deceit. And he still has to keep up with his day job and keep his nearest and dearest from becoming too suspicious.

When it comes to the action, the intrigue, Chuck’s insatiable desire to help people and the need for secrecy wreaking havoc with his personal life, I was reminded a lot of the first season of Smallville, in which Clark Kent is always rushing off to save the day and leaving his friends in the lurch. It’s a painful position to be in, but it’s the price you pay for being a superhero. Chuck’s “superpower” is his ability to draw unconscious connections between people and events. He never can tell what may cause a flash of realization, but the thousand-yard stare is a dead giveaway that something strange is cooking in his mega-processor of a noggin. Beyond that, Chuck has nothing but his own wits and charm, along with two very capable wingmen, to help him escape life-threatening situations week after week. There’s a lot of action, and sometimes it can get pretty tense. At the same time, however, the main tone of the show is humorous, and even much of the violence has a comical edge to it, whether it’s engaging in a deadly duel with mops and plastic forks for weapons or knocking a guy out with a microwave oven.

The show deftly juggles genres while almost invariably keeping a light-hearted tone. Even the most touching or dangerous moments are soon punctuated by some element of humor. Chuck is an incredibly lovable character, a fundamentally decent guy who cares deeply about his sister and best friend and who always wants to do the right thing, even if he knows it will come at a cost to his personal happiness. But he’s also incredibly funny, and a lot of that comes down to Levi’s expressive performance. He’s got a remarkably pliable face, and just a glance at his goofy grin or panicked jaw drop can be enough to set off a case of the giggles. Chuck also has the tendency to stammer and babble when he’s jittery, which is often. Sometimes just his way of wording things cracks me up; I think my favorite line of the season from him is when he asks, after a heart-to-heart with his sister, “How would you feel about a brother-sister hug situation right now?”

At first, I didn’t think I was going to like Ellie (Sarah Lancaster) very much, as our first introduction to her is when she finds Chuck hiding from his own birthday party, to which she has invited all of her doctor friends in hopes that he will find a potential love interest. While it was a nice gesture, it seemed like she was going to be the kind of sister who’s always nagging her brother to be something other than what he is. But that really doesn’t turn out to be the case at all. They move in different social circles, certainly, but Ellie loves Chuck just the way he is, and she’s really a very good sport most of the time. It soon becomes clear that these two would do just about anything to ensure each other’s happiness and well-being.

The dynamic among Chuck’s closest companions reminds me a lot of Freaks and Geeks, the short-lived but exquisite high school dramedy about high school students in the beginning of the 1980s. It’s so easy to imagine 27-year-old Chuck as a grown-up version of Sam Weir. He’s good-natured, kind-hearted and just awkward enough for it to be endearing. Many of Chuck’s passions appeared on that very show or probably would have if it had lasted long enough, since the 1980s was such a hotbed of geeky activity. There are more recent references, such as various video games and, much to my delight, a blink-and-you-miss-it allusion to LOST, but most it dates back a while. We’ve got nods to, among other things, TRON, Dune, Lord of the Rings, Star Trek and Star Wars. Indeed, it was Star Wars that really made me notice how compatible Sam’s world is with Chuck’s. At one point in the season, Chuck’s best friend from childhood, Morgan Grimes (Joshua Gomez), appeals to him with, “Help me, Chuck Bartowski. You’re my only hope.” In Freaks and Geeks, Sam uses the very same tactic on Neil, who sadly responds, “You had to go and quote the Star Wars…”

Like Neil, Morgan is much shorter than his best friend. He has a tendency to wear out his welcome, and he overestimates his own comic abilities. Instead of making people laugh, he often winds up making them want to throttle him. This is especially true of Ellie, since Morgan’s crush on Ellie is every bit as intense as the one Neil has on Sam’s sister Lindsey, and despite the omnipresence of her buff boyfriend, he’s not afraid to show it. But Morgan and Chuck have been friends so long and are so compatible that they are truly in sync with each other, and for all of Morgan’s shortcomings – he’s easily the most annoying character on the show – this is a guy who will always have Chuck’s back, even at great inconvenience to himself. The friendship is definitely a two-way street.

Ellie and Chuck are both as different from each other and as close as Sam and Lindsey. Meanwhile, though they couldn’t look less alike, in his interactions with Chuck and Morgan, her boyfriend Devon (Ryan McPartlin), otherwise known as Captain Awesome, reminds me a lot of offbeat guidance counselor Mr. Rosso. He’s so easy-going that it seems nothing could ever possibly faze him. He’s a little cheesy and a little overinvolved, but this is a guy you really want to have in your corner when you’re in a jam, even if his solutions are sometimes a bit uncomfortable.

The show’s romantic element comes in mostly with Sarah Walker (Yvonne Strahovski), a CIA agent who has been assigned to Chuck’s case. Tough, pretty and kind, she wins Chuck’s heart immediately, and it seems pretty clear that she has taken a shine to him as well. But even though they’re posing as a couple for the sake of their cover, genuine romantic involvement doesn’t seem to be in the cards for them. I find Sarah to be extremely likable and an even better sport than Ellie. But my favorite character on the show next to Chuck is surly NSA agent John Casey (Adam Baldwin). It wasn’t until after I’d watched a few episodes and checked him out on IMDb that I realized Baldwin had played antagonistic redneck outlaw Jayne on Firefly; he reminded me more of Frederic Lehne’s single-minded Marshall Edward Mars on LOST. This is an unsmiling, ruthless assassin who always seems to be in a foul temper, and yet I find his sarcastic, deadpan humor consistently hilarious, and as someone who is often most interested in characters in need of redemption, I love those moments when we get to see his buried sensitivity break through his carefully built-up armor.

While part of Sarah’s cover involves working at the hot dog shop across the street, Casey works with Morgan and Chuck at the Buy More, along with an assortment of oddball employees, including power-hungry Harry Tang (C. S. Lee), who nobody seems to like; skeezy buddies Lester Patel (Vik Sahay) and Jeff Barnes (Scott Krinsky); and wild child Anna Wu (Julia Ling). By far my favorite member of the Buy More supporting cast, however, is the boss, Big Mike (Mark Christopher Lawrence), who is grumpy and sardonic but ultimately a softie. He likes to hear himself yell, but his outbursts are more funny than threatening, and he has an amusing obsession with fish and Danish.

Because this is a spy show, there is a certain amount of violence involved, and while there’s never anything too graphic that remains on the screen for more than a brief moment, there are multiple injuries and a few deaths as well. However, nearly all of the deaths occur at the hands of the villains, usually not in the presence of the main characters. There are scenes in every episode to get the adrenaline pumping, but they are generally handled with a careful balance of action and humor so that even the tensest situation doesn’t seem too dire. I also appreciated that while there is innuendo on the show, it’s pretty understated for a spy comedy, and there’s little overt sexuality on display. There’s not much profanity to speak of, either, and for the most part, the show feels pretty wholesome, especially because of the way it lauds close bonds of friendship and family.

Nathan’s back at college now. Meanwhile, my parents and I still have two seasons to go and a dilemma as we consider whether we want to wait for him to finish playing catch-up. I suspect that any resolve we have on that score won’t last long; this show is just too addictive to leave it hanging for several months, and I’m sure that when he does come back this summer, I won’t mind watching those episodes with him again as he enjoys them for the first time. Neither my dad nor brother had any interest in the show when they saw it advertised, but by the end of the first episode, they were just as hooked as I was. We’ve found a new series to add to our list of favorites, and that’s cause for celebration. Three cheers for Chuck!