There's Not Much Sleuthing Needed in The Marshland Mystery

It takes a definite talent to be able to write a good mystery. Plotting has never been my strong suit as a writer, so I certainly appreciate the challenges that must come with weaving a compelling mystery. It seems that the ghostwriter responsible for The Marshland Mystery, the tenth book in the Trixie Belden series and the fourth to be written under the blanket pseudonym Kathryn Kenny, found the task a little too much to handle. While she demonstrates a solid grip on the characters and places them in a pretty engaging story, the word “mystery” really doesn’t belong in the title.

Basically, the book contains two plot elements that could, by some stretch, constitute a mystery, but only by the loosest of definitions. For a while, I thought that the book’s overarching mystery would be the disappearance of Gaye, a sullen violin prodigy who comes to stay with the Wheelers for a short time. This child, who gets off on the wrong foot with Trixie and comes across as disagreeable for much of the book, is not much older than Trixie’s six-year-old brother Bobby, so when she goes missing, it’s great cause for worry. The search for her encompasses several chapters. Nonetheless, she resurfaces halfway through the book, and there isn’t anything all that peculiar about the circumstances of her reappearance. The other mystery is whether there’s anything to the rumors about a treasure hidden on or near the grounds of the home occupied by Rachel Martin, an elderly spinster whose family used to be very wealthy. Hints of this are sprinkled throughout the book, but I guessed the ultimate answer well in advance of its revelation, and there’s only minimal mystery involved there as well.

That’s not really such a bad thing. This isn’t the first time that a Trixie Belden book has seemed more like general fiction than a mystery, and if it gives readers a chance to hobnob with the Bob-Whites – the club that includes Trixie, her brothers Mart and Brian, her best friend Honey Wheeler and her adopted brother Jim, and neighbors Di and Dan – then the genre seems less important than characterization. Still, this is a mystery series, and the title of this book reinforces that, so the categorization is a bit misleading.

Despite the general lack of a mystery, however, I still enjoyed the book quite a bit. It introduces several lively characters. Little Gaye comes across as a spoiled brat, but she becomes more sympathetic as Trixie and her friends realize the kind of pressure she faces as a world-famous violinist, particularly from her stern aunt. Miss Rachel is a feisty woman who, after initial suspicions, quickly becomes a friend to the Bob-Whites. She reminded me a fair bit of Mrs. Vanderpoel, the widow in the seventh book, especially toward the end when Trixie suggests they organize a sale of her furniture to help her raise money to rent a house in town. The other major new character is Paul Trent, a nosy news reporter whose pesky personality and habit of twisting the facts in his stories made me think of Rita Skeeter, the journalist who causes so many problems for Harry and his friends in the Harry Potter series.

Dan, the most recent addition to the Bob-Whites, is virtually absent in this book, as is the Wheelers’ household manager Miss Trask, and Di isn’t very involved either, nor is the Wheelers’ cheerful groom Regan. But those who are in the thick of things have some nice moments. I especially like all the banter among the Belden siblings here. The familial affection is easily apparent, and I got a lot of laughs out of their interaction. Mart’s grandiose speech actually had me running to the dictionary a couple of times in this volume, and I got a chuckle out of the fierce crush Bobby suddenly develops on Gaye.

Meanwhile, it was nice to see so much of Brian, since as the oldest Bob-White, he often is too busy working or studying to spend a lot of time with Trixie and the rest. Of the five original Bob-Whites, Brian seems the most underused, which is a shame since he is probably the most consistently considerate of the Bob-White boys, and when he gets to sparring with Mart, he can be just as witty as his jokey younger brother. Here, not only is he a willing chauffeur, we get a good sense of his skill as an artist, and slight hints of an attraction between him and Honey emerge. While they haven’t had an opportunity to spend much time in each other’s exclusive company, these two seem as compatible in their own way as Jim and Trixie, so it’s nice to see that friendship flourish.

On the whole, then, while The Marshland Mystery is a bit of a misnomer and the book certainly isn’t a standout for that reason, because of all the great character moments, I still found it an easy story to sink into.

Season Three of Chuck Brings Angst and Catharsis

There’s a certain melancholy attached to starting a really good series on DVD. You start off hoping to get sucked in but knowing that when the multiple marathons have brought you to the end of what’s available on DVD, malaise will set in. My family finished watching season three of Chuck a couple weeks ago, and I couldn’t quite bring myself to rush out and write the review right away. It felt too final. Of course, there is a season four, but I hate to plunge into it “live” having missed the first half of the season, so I have a feeling it will have to wait. I’m sure it will be worth it; the first three seasons certainly were.

Season three of the action-comedy-romance created by Chris Fedak and Josh Schwartz has a slightly different tone to it than the first two seasons. While there are still laugh-aloud moments in every episode, I’m not sure I would classify it as primarily comical. Each of the characters faces major challenges in this season, and at times their obstacles feel downright oppressive. In fact, there were several episodes that left me feeling depressed, though the season ends on a mostly uplifting note.

The biggest reason for the change is that Chuck Bartowski (Zachary Levi), the unassuming computer technician who unwittingly filled his head with government secrets in the first episode, has experienced a shift in his life plan. After spending two seasons largely focused on ridding himself of that unwanted knowledge, he had a brief taste of freedom before downloading the new Intersect, this time intentionally, in a moment of crisis. With this new version, he not only is able to identify baddies instantaneously, he has the chance to immediately learn how to accomplish complex tasks such as doing kung fu or performing surgery. These abilities come only intermittently.  He has to concentrate harder than usual to call them forth, and he doesn't always have control over them once he gets them, but just knowing that they’re lying dormant in his system is enough to change Chuck’s attitude toward espionage. He is no longer a reluctant spy simply waiting to go back to his old life. Instead, like Clark Kent, he feels a duty to use his newfound powers for good.

Because of these abilities, season three is the most action-packed yet, though I sometimes missed his more unconventional means of getting out of scrapes. That’s not to say that he never escapes his enemies primarily through his quick wits or that his two handlers, tough, pretty Sarah Walker (Yvonne Strahovski) and steely, deadly John Casey (Adam Baldwin), don’t ever have to come to his rescue. But we do get several fight scenes with him that are pretty much straightforward action. As he gets closer to becoming an actual, official spy, it becomes harder and harder for him to avoid making morally reprehensible decisions, and I worried along with Sarah that the season might strip him of many of the qualities that make him so lovable in the first place.

Of the main trio, Sarah has always been the straight man of sorts. She’s sweet and incredibly capable, but she doesn’t usually make me laugh as Chuck and Casey do. In season three, she’s not just rather serious, she’s angsty. This season begins several months after the season two finale, and we learn that Chuck declined an opportunity to run away with her, opting instead for the life of a spy. It’s a rather perplexing decision, considering how desperately he loves Sarah. On the other hand, it would have meant abandoning his beloved sister Ellie (Sarah Lancaster) and giving up the chance to help a lot of people, so his decision is at least somewhat understandable. But throughout most of the season, Sarah remains bitter over this incident, and her relationship with Chuck suffers. For at least half the season, it seems that there is a dark cloud hanging over Sarah’s head, and it’s draining to watch, though there’s a definite sense of exultation when she finally begins to come out of her funk.

Deadpan Casey has subtly, gradually softened up since the beginning of the series, and at this point, while he still looks like he could rip your head off – and would if he had the right motivation – he is as sympathetic as he is intimidating. Casey must deal with several significant changes this season, and we come to see just how important Chuck and Sarah have become to him. More surprisingly, he has several opportunities to bond with Chuck’s best friend Morgan Grimes (Joshua Gomez), and despite his initial irritation with Morgan, the two turn out to make a pretty effective team. Meanwhile, a secret long buried in Casey’s past comes to light and reveals a truly tender side of his personality.

Chuck’s beefed up spy duties threaten to drive a wedge between him and Morgan as his behavior becomes ever more erratic, but the strength of this lifelong friendship proves capable of withstanding seemingly insurmountable obstacles. After two seasons of frequently coming across like a doofus and a nuisance, Morgan really begins to grow up in this season. At the urging of paternal boss Big Mike (Mark Christopher Lawrence), he takes on new duties at the Buy More that demonstrate an unforeseen knack for leadership, and he shows both cleverness and bravery when he finds himself in the position of needing to come to Chuck’s rescue. By contrast, Chuck’s brother-in-law Devon (Ryan McPartlin), a buff, easy-going doctor who rarely seems rattled in the first two seasons, gets a taste of Chuck’s lifestyle that leaves him truly shaken, and he spends much of the season looking haggard and haunted. This leads to some funny moments, in particular a hilarious confrontation with Morgan as he tries to convince Ellie that they should leave Burbank to participate in Doctors Without Borders in Africa, but it’s rather unsettling to see the man Chuck refers to as Captain Awesome so utterly stressed out.

With the arrival of Chuck’s new “superpowers,” it’s not much surprise that Superman references would fill the season. This is most noticeable in two of the season’s casting decisions. Kristin Kreuk, known for playing Clark’s longtime crush and on-again, off-again girlfriend Lana Lang on Smallville, surfaces as a potential love interest for Chuck who, after meeting him on a mission, moves to Burbank to work in his Buy More. Generally, I found her character here more likable than Lana, who was sweet enough in Smallville’s first season but soon began to exhibit obnoxious and shifty traits. More significant to the arc of the season is Shaw, a highly accomplished agent who becomes Chuck’s boss. Played by Brandon Routh, who donned Superman’s red and blue suit in Superman Returns, Shaw has an impeccable record, not to mention killer abs, and Chuck’s not so crazy about the way he’s disrupting the cozy little trio he’s become so accustomed to, especially since he seems to have his sights set on Sarah.

Along with all the Superman stuff, the season remains steeped in pop culture references that sometimes seem to come out of nowhere. Chuck’s unpredictable kung fu chops lead to an episode-long subplot about a Fight Club in the Buy More, one of the more disruptive ideas cooked up by Lester Patel (Vic Sahay) and Jeff Barnes (Scott Krinsky), Chuck’s most aggravating co-workers. I must admit, though, that they got a big smile out of this folkie with a performance of a John Denver song while garbed like Simon and Garfunkel in what’s probably my favorite episode of the season. And really, they didn’t sound half-bad. Battlestar Galactica gets a prominent shout-out in one of the season’s most dispiriting episodes, and Subway, the corporate sponsor partly responsible for keeping Chuck on the air, is integrated in a number of amusing ways. While many pop culture moments throughout the season made me smile, my hands-down favorite has to be the out-of-the-blue nod to one of Sesame Street’s most popular segments.

Taken as a whole, I love the third season of Chuck as much as the first two, but this is definitely a darker season. Several likable characters get burned, some of them fatally, and the main trio face some deeply troubling crises that threaten their sense of self-worth and psychological well-being. However, when good things happen this season, they feel all the more cathartic, so the dark moments are worth enduring, especially since there is joy and humor to be found in even the direst episode. I’m so glad that Chuck got a third season, and I’m sure that the fourth will be just as engrossing.

The Baby Sitters Club Is a Corny Celebration of Friendship

When I was growing up, I read voraciously, and one of my favorite series was the Baby-sitters Club books by Ann M. Martin (and a variety of ghostwriters). My friend Libbie and I were comparing notes recently, and we found it funny that although both of us had read many books in the series, neither of us ever saw the 1995 movie, which came out when we were just a little older than most of the main characters. We decided that we ought to do something about that.

The Baby Sitters Club, directed by Melanie Mayron with a screenplay by Dalene Young, is a frothy family-friendly movie targeted mostly at girls in late elementary school and middle school. The hour-and-a-half-long movie draws mostly from three different books in the series, introducing us to the seven main characters and entwining several plot threads. Libbie commented early on that it was a mistake to have so many major characters; while I don’t really think that could be avoided in an adaptation of a much-loved series, there’s no doubt that some of them get lost in the shuffle.

The most clearly drawn characters here are Kristy, the club president, and Stacey, the glamorous diabetic who looks and acts older than her clubmates. Bre Blair’s grown-up looks serve her well, since Stacey’s main storyline involves her relationship with 16-year-old Luca (Christian Oliver), who believes that they are the same age. In reality, she is 13, as are the other four main club members. The two junior officers, frizzy-haired aspiring novelist Mallory (Stacey Linn Ramsower) and cheerful African-American dancer Jessi (Zelda Harris), are only 11. If any of the main characters could have been cut, it would be these two.

Schuyler Fisk brings a great deal of spunk and heart to the role of freckly tomboy Kristy, and hers is easily the most compelling performance in the movie. That’s partly because Kristy’s story is the most developed. After coming up with the audacious plan to run a kids’ summer camp with her fellow club members, Kristy’s world gets shaken up by the arrival of her absentee father (Peter Horton). She’s conflicted over his reappearance, since she longs to have him back in her life but is bitter that he stayed away so long. What’s worse, though he seems eager to spend lots of quality time with her, he insists that she keep his presence in town a secret until he can secure a job. Naturally, all this secret-keeping takes a toll on her relationships.

Kristy’s quiet best friend Mary Anne (Rachael Lee Cook) is the only other person who knows that Kristy’s dad is back. Her friendships suffer too, since it becomes apparent that she and Kristy are in cahoots about something. Meanwhile, the camp is keeping her busy, and she’s glad to have her boyfriend Logan (Austin O’Brien) to lean on. Her stepsister, California-born animal rights activist Dawn (Larisa Oleynik), isn’t so thrilled by the amorous attention she’s receiving from goofball Alan (Aaron Michael Metchik), who is helping with the day camp in an effort to get close to her. And artsy Japanese-American junk food addict Claudia (Tricia Joe) is struggling through summer school and about to crack under the pressure. After all, her parents have warned her that if she doesn’t bring her grades up, she’ll have to quit the club.

Along with all this, we have several other subplots to juggle. One involves a catty queen bee plotting the downfall of Kristy and her friends with some help from her rather guileless lackeys. Another has to do with an eccentric neighbor who finds the activities of the summer campers a nuisance but warms to the club after bonding with one of the members. In short, there’s an awful lot going on here and very little time to develop it. If you weren’t familiar with the characters already, I’m not sure how good a grip you would have on them, and Dawn and Stacey, who I tended to mix up even in the series sometimes, are rather hard to tell apart. The movie feels a little overly busy, and it’s littered with some pretty corny dialogue. For instance, when Stacey tells Luca, who’s from Switzerland, about New York City, her beloved hometown, she gushes, “It’s the best!” “You mean, like you?” he responds. Awwwwww.

Clearly, this movie was not a contender for the Best Adapted Screenplay Oscar. But it’s no worse than your typical tween fare, and while I groaned several times over some of the lame banter the characters exchanged, I was easily drawn into Kristy’s dilemma, and I found the friendships among the girls touching. I also liked the creative ways they found to keep the kids in their care entertained, though by the end of the movie it seems apparent that they bit off a little more than they could chew with that job. Parts of the movie are unrealistic, particularly a sequence in which the campers manage to completely clean the club’s trashed headquarters in a couple of short hours. I doubt too many adults will really get sucked into this, but for pre-teen girls who don’t mind their movies a little over-the-top, The Baby Sitters Club isn’t a bad way to spend an hour and a half.

Escape to Scotland With More Music From Braveheart

Today marks the release of Heritage, the first Celtic Thunder album to consist almost entirely of traditional Irish and Scottish music. I pre-ordered it, so it’ll probably be a couple of days before it lands on my doorstep. In the meantime, I’m getting my Celtic fix with More Music From Braveheart, the gorgeous Scottish-flavored soundtrack composed and conducted by James Horner and performed by the London Symphony Orchestra and the 1st Battalion Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders. Additionally, in a rather unusual move for a soundtrack, several tracks incorporate dialogue from the movie. It’s a follow-up to the original soundtrack, which I really ought to get my hands on one of these days. James Horner is one of my favorite composers, and I find his scores especially irresistible when he turns his attention to Celtic themes. Like his Titanic soundtrack, More Songs From Braveheart is a soul-stirring masterpiece.

Most of the tracks on this album incorporate dialogue, so if you plan to see the movie but haven’t yet, I wouldn’t recommend listening to this. However, some tracks will give you the flavor of the score without any potentially spoilerish speechifying. Outlawed Tunes on Outlawed Pipes is the first purely instrumental track, and the bagpipes, the instruments most readily associated with Scotland, weave a plaintive melody that in two short minutes effectively conveys the sense of longing felt by the beleaguered Scots, with faint drum beats hinting at the fierce battle to come. The brief Scottish Wedding Music has a fun, jaunty jig feel to it that dissipates into discord, while the whistle-heavy Prima Noctes feels mysterious and borderline mournful. Vision of Murron is quiet and melodious, with just a hint of the main musical theme, which is visited much more explicitly in the tender For the Love of a Princess, which is probably my favorite of the instrumental tracks despite the lack of bagpipes.

Point of War / Johnny Cope / Up in the Morning Early is a medley of traditional bagpipe music with a lively tone to it, sounding like something one might hear at a military tattoo. Similarly, The Road to the Isles / Glendaural Highlanders / The Old Rustic Bridge by the Mill is a bagpipe showcase, starting out on the slow side, then becoming almost playful before turning into a more solemn march that fades out. Scotland the Brave is one of the most instantly recognizable bagpipe songs out there, so it’s nice to have it here, and it’s performed well, though it feels like a bit of an afterthought, as do Leaving Glenhurqhart and Kirkhill, the final tracks on the album. These five tracks are all performed by the Queen’s Own Cameron Highlanders and consist entirely of bagpipes and drums.

The two characters most represented on the album are William Wallace, portrayed by Mel Gibson, and Robert the Bruce, played by Angus McFadyen. One of only two dialogue tracks that doesn’t include either of them is the creepy ”The Trouble With Scotland”, in which Patrick McGoohan as King Edward the Longshanks gives a 40-second spiel, free of accompanying music, announcing the plan to institute the custom of Prima Noctes in an effort to breed the Scots out. The other is The Legend Spreads, a pipe-heavy track in which various Scotsmen discuss the wild stories cropping up about William Wallace, the unassuming farmer-turned-fierce freedom fighter.

Robert the Bruce provides narration on four tracks. Prologue: “I shall tell you of William Wallace” is a haunting piece of music that starts off the album, and McFadyen’s quiet narration sets the stage for the epic tale to follow. His narration continues with The Royal Wedding, which starts off with him speaking before yielding to somber choral music. ”After the beheading” includes Robert’s reflection on William’s immediate legacy. Its stirring whistles continue into ”You have bled with Wallace!”, to be eventually replaced with triumphant-sounding pipes.

William shares the spotlight with other characters on several tracks. The Proposal, which introduces the film’s poignant main theme, is the only one to include Catherine McCormack as Murron, the love of William’s life. Romantic and playful, their dialogue and the gorgeous music that accompanies it is an oasis of simple joy in the midst of a terrifying time and is probably my favorite track. Conversing With the Almighty features dialogue only as William meets up with Stephen, Hamish and Campbell, men who will become staunch allies.

”Why do you help me?” is another music-less track and features a short, murmured conversation between William and the sympathetic Princess Isabelle, played by Sophie Marceau. She returns in ”Not every man really lives”, which begins with a conversation culminating in one of the film’s most memorable lines and before giving way to the music. Tender and wistful, the track rivals The Proposal for sheer loveliness. On ”The prisoner wishes to say a word”, he shares a bit of the limelight with the man holding him captive before bellowing out the word “Freedom”. The music surrounding this proclamation is achingly poignant.

Like Robert, William has four solo tracks. The first is ”Scotland is free!”, the shortest track, which includes no music and merely features William shouting his defiance to the English lords trying to exert their control over the Scottish people. By contrast, ”Sons of Scotland!” is the longest track at over 12 minutes in length. The instrumentation is varied, with the low rumble of war mingling with the high beauty of the ideals for which William and his countrymen are fighting. Around the three-minute mark, William begins speaking, starting off on a light note but building up into one of the most stirring rallying cries ever to turn up in a movie. The speech itself, which ends with the movie’s ferocious tagline of “They may take our lives, but they’ll never take our freedom!”, only lasts two minutes, but the bagpipe-heavy segment that follows it captures the epic nature of the battle that ensues. ”Unite the clans!” is another brief, non-instrumental track which finds William trying to talk Robert into taking on his rightful leadership position. The last track specifically tied to the movie is ”Warrior Poets”, which has William narrating the outcome of the Scots’ final surge against the English.

Anyone who enjoys Celtic music should appreciate the beauty of James Horner’s score, particularly the standout instruments. Tony Hinnegan plays the kena and whistle, Ian Underwood is in charge of synthesizers, Mike Taylor plays the Bodhran pipes and Horner himself plays the keyboards. As I wait for Heritage, I’m content to let Horner and his crew of talented musicians sweep me off to the Highlands.

Trixie Has Her Hands Full in the Woolly Happy Valley Mystery

I’ve always been oddly drawn to the idea of shepherds. I don’t know if it’s the 23rd Psalm or the proliferation of sheep in Ireland or the wind-up toy sheep I had as a toddler, but I’ve always found the profession very appealing. Hence, I was tickled to discover that in the ninth Trixie Belden book, Trixie Belden and the Happy Valley Mystery, a good chunk of the action takes place on a sheep farm.

In this book, written by a ghostwriter under the name of Kathryn Kenny, Trixie joins her brothers and friends on a last-minute Spring Break trip to snowy Iowa, courtesy of her Uncle Andrew, who is away in Scotland while they are there. Dan Mangan, the newest member of the Bob-Whites of the Glen, the small club of which Trixie is a part, can’t participate in this trip, but the other members – Trixie’s older brothers, Mart and Brian, her best friend Honey and Honey’s adopted brother Jim, and her neighbor Di - are all along for the ride and hoping they might just be able to relax and not worry about solving any mysteries. But as soon as Trixie learns that some of her beloved uncle’s sheep have gone missing lately, she becomes determined to crack the case, no matter how much opposition she faces.

And boy, does she face opposition. Her friends and siblings stick up for her as often as they tease her, but nobody in Iowa has seen the results of her detective work, and they find her suspicions and conclusions ridiculous. Particularly galling are Mr. Gorman, who is running the farm in Uncle Andrew’s stead, and farmhand Ben, who see everything Trixie says as a big joke. While they are worried about the loss of Andrew’s sheep, they aren’t too quick to accept help from Trixie and the other Bob-Whites, and they are more focused on making sure that the kids have a good time, encouraging them to participate in such events as a basketball game, a local dance and an afternoon of skating.

Trixie is always the central character in these books, but here she feels even more in the spotlight than usual, since she is the only one really interested in finding out who is taking her uncle’s sheep, at least initially. It gives the book a somewhat lonesome feeling that adds to the chill of a blizzardy break. On top of having to go it alone much of the time when it comes to figuring out the mystery, Trixie feels disturbing pangs of jealousy throughout the week as Jim seems to revel in the attentions of a beautiful blond figure skater. It’s partly this envy that drives her to befriend Ned, a local boy who proves an important ally.

I love the setting of this book, and I found the tidbits about the sheep farming business interesting. It’s fun to see Trixie and the other Bob-Whites have a hand in the daily duties of a sheep farmer, some of which turn out to be pretty harrowing. An incident involving a large number of escaped sheep is exciting, while the birth of twin lambs reminded me of veterinarian Jim Herriot’s books. The most exciting portion of the book, however, has little to do with sheep and instead finds Trixie, Jim and Honey navigating their way through a flood. This escapade does involve a puppy, and sheepdogs play a fairly major role in the story, as do horses – one of which boasts perhaps the worst horse name I’ve ever heard: Satan’s Baby. Really?

The interaction between Jim and Trixie is one of the best parts of this book. These kids are in their early teens, and any amour is understated, but this is the most romantic novel yet. The hints of the blossoming relationship between these two are sprinkled in at just the right times and never overwhelm the story. It feels much more organic to me than in the seventh book, which uses Valentine’s Day as an excuse to explore that angle.

I’m always on the lookout for literary references in these books. In this installment, I noticed that while there is a nod to Sherlock Holmes, most of the allusions are to the Bible. The characters mention Moses, Jeremiah and Gabriel, and the Gormans actually read a passage from Genesis early in the book. Given that, I was a little surprised not to read a reference to the Good Shepherd or the parable of the lost sheep, as these certainly would have had a lot of relevance to the story.

It’s always fun to shake things up a bit in a series by taking the main characters out of their usual surroundings. This is the third book in the series that has taken place mostly away from home, and it makes for a fun adventure. Not the most tranquil of spring breaks, perhaps, but something tells me a week of peace and quiet is hardly what Trixie would consider an ideal vacation!

Learn About Disney's Life With Walt: The Man Behind the Myth

I’ve loved Disney for as long as I can remember. Lately, I’ve been learning a bit more about him and the remarkable company he built through documentaries. The latest I saw was the 2001 made-for-TV doc Walt: The Man Behind the Myth, which focuses specifically on his life, from his childhood to his death at the too-young age of 65 from lung cancer.

This documentary is directed by Jean-Pierre Isbouts, who shares writing credit with Katherine and Richard Greene. The film consists mostly of talking head-type testimonials from a wide variety of people involved with Disney on a personal or professional level and video clips of both Disney and the work he did. There are clips dating back as far as the 1920s, maybe even earlier, and they all look remarkably sharp. The friend who saved this for me on her DVR was especially impressed with the quality of the footage. Through home videos, we are able to see Walt Disney with his guard down, just being a laid-back family man, while the animation clips give us a good sense of the progression of his work.

It’s interesting to see such a cross-section of personalities commenting on Disney’s life. Dozens of people contribute their recollections, and each talking head segment is accompanied by that person’s signature, which adds a nice touch. Expected voices include the Sherman Brothers, who relate anecdotes also included in The Boys: The Sherman Brothers’ Story; animators Frank Thomas and Ollie Johnston; filmmaker John Lasseter; and various members of the Disney family. Some of the interviewees who caught me by surprise a bit were author Ray Bradbury, historian Brian Sibley and television personality Art Linkletter. In addition to these interviews, we see several famous folks pop up in archive footage.

This movie offers a pretty straightforward account of Walt Disney’s life, presenting the highlights of his career and providing a good sense of what he was like as a person. When it was over, my friend commented that the film may have over-glorified him a bit; I’ll agree that he’s presented in an unfailingly positive light, so if you’re coming to this movie hoping for deep dark secrets, search elsewhere.

The closest the documentary comes to negativity is mentioning that he was a tough taskmaster whose praise was generally understated or delivered second-hand. But nobody seemed to mind this much; his commitment to excellence pushed them all to work harder, and the sparseness of his praise made his few well-chosen words that much more meaningful. Were there less admirable aspects of his personality that didn’t come to light here? Probably. But as a celebration of Walt Disney, this documentary certainly does the trick.

Dick Van Dyke, instantly recognizable even all these years later as the voice behind Bert, the happy-go-lucky chimney sweep who shares the spotlight with Mary Poppins in one of Disney’s most marvelous movies, warmly narrates the film. I can’t think of any other actor whose narration here would provide such a sense of deep affection. His presence undeniably added to the emotional appeal of the movie for me, and I found myself getting a little misty-eyed on more than one occasion as he talked about Walt’s dreams and his determination to make them a reality.

Anyone who has ever enjoyed a Disney movie will probably find something to interest them here. Walt: The Man Behind the Myth is a joyous celebration of a man with seemingly limitless imagination and of the empire he created.

Rich Mullins Explores the Sublime and Mundane in Winds of Heaven, Stuff of Earth

I grew up Lutheran, and although my parents and I have always been active in our church, my exposure to artists who fall within the scope of Contemporary Christian Music has been rather limited. My musical upbringing consisted mostly of 60s and 70s folk-rock: John Denver, Simon and Garfunkel, Jim Croce, the Irish Rovers, Gordon Lightfoot, Peter Paul and Mary, Dan Fogelberg, Michael Martin Murphey… The list goes on. I’ve never found their music, at least most of it, inconsistent with Christianity, and some of their songs quite frankly feel like hymns, so I guess I never felt the need to gravitate away from that genre. But I have found myself drawn to some artists in the specifically Christian scene whose lyrical excellence and careful craftsmanship is matched only by their devotion to the God of whom they sing.

One of those singer-songwriters is Rich Mullins, a man of extraordinary depth and talent who tragically died in a car accident in 1997. Best known for praise standards like Awesome God and Step By Step, he wrote in a manner that always felt deeply personal but widely applicable. In Winds of Heaven, Stuff of Earth, released in 1988, one gets a good sense of his style and an introduction to two of his most well-known songs. Additionally, Michael W. Smith, a prominent Contemporary Christian artist in his own right, plays the piano here, so he has a major hand in my favorite of Mullins’ songs. While I would probably direct a first-time listener to one of his later albums, this still isn’t a bad place to start.

The Other Side of the World - A peppy guitar-driven song to start off the album. It begins with a chorus of children chanting in what sounds like an African language and incorporates percussion and synthesizers evoking that continent. It’s a song acknowledging that “it’s a small world, after all,” but still a big job to bridge those gaps. A rallying cry to share both faith and food with those in distant lands. “The other side of the world is not so far away, and the distance just dissolves into the love…”

With the Wonder - This one starts out hushed and reverent, and the quiet celebration of nature’s beauty reminds me of the weekends I spend with my family at Little Pine Valley in Central Pennsylvania. After the first verse, the percussion kicks in and the tempo picks up, and it becomes another track with a tone of exultation. It’s a song of thanks to God for the wonders of creation, which are reflected in the flurry of words he chooses to describe them. His poetic flourish is evident here, as is a sense that he feels even the most expansive lexicon would be insufficient to capture the majesty of what he sees. “It flutters and floats, it falls and it climbs, it spins and sputters and spurts, and You filled this world with wonders ‘round every turn…”

Awesome God - If you spent much time in a church in the late 1980s or 1990s, chances are that you heard this song. And once you’ve heard it, you’re unlikely to forget it; this one has a way of drilling down into your brain and never leaving. The chorus is repeated enough times that just one listen would probably do it, but this was a staple at my church for many years. We’d play the recording, and even more often, we’d only sing the chorus, complete with motions. For several years, it seemed that this was the hottest song in all of Christendom, and boy, did it catch fire! It really is a great tune, with its Gospel-flavored piano and earnest verses but mostly that chorus. Oh, that chorus. I’m an 80s child, and thanks in part to the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, “awesome” is a word I always think of in association with that decade. It was a fun word, a laid-back word, a cool word. A word I might use to describe anything ranging from a Christmas present to a slice of pizza. Finding this word in a hymn was a little funny to me, but there was something encouraging about God being described in such hip, youthful language. Of course, it also served as a reminder that God is immeasurably more worthy of awe than the fast food I ate while watching TV after school. This song introduced me to Rich Mullins, and I’m very glad it did. “Our God is an awesome God. He reigns from Heaven above with wisdom, power and love. Our God is an awesome God!”

If I Stand - While Awesome God was the first of his songs I encountered, I didn’t become familiar with the man behind the song until a while later. When I did, this mellow masterpiece was the one that most captured my imagination, and though he has others that come close, it remains my favorite of his songs. Like With the Wonder, this is filled with expressions of the sense of wonder that nature inspires, along with the happiness to be found in human relationships. Coupled with the brilliantly melodic piano backing, the verses are breathtakingly beautiful. But it’s the chorus, with its palpable sense of yearning, that cements the song as my favorite, calling to mind the C. S. Lewis quote, "If I discover within myself a desire which no experience in this world can satisfy, the most probable explanation is that I was made for another world." This is the song I most associate with Rich Mullins, in part because, like Jim Croce’s Time in a Bottle, it feels so much more poignant in light of his early death. “If I stand, let me stand on the promise that You will pull me through, and if I can’t, let me fall on the grace that first brought me to You. And if I sing, let me sing for the joy that has born in me these songs, and if I weep, let it be as a man who is longing for his home.”

Home - This keyboard-driven song has a definite 80s feel to it. Musically, this song doesn’t grab me as much as many of the others, but the lyrics are a stirring testimonial of the trials of life, the challenges of faith and the glory of finishing the race. “What I’d have settled for, You’ve blown so far away. What You brought me to, I thought I could not reach. And I came so close to giving up, but You never did give up on me.”

Such a Thing As Glory - An upbeat song that points to there being something greater than what we see and experience every day. Like If I Stand, it makes me think of Plato and his cave, and the idea that we’re only catching glimpses of a grander reality. Some neat instrumentation adds to the impression of mystery, while the background vocals increase the sense of jubilation. “There is such a thing as glory, and there are hints of it everywhere. And the hints are overwhelming, and its scent is in the air.”

…And I Love You - Another uptempo song with a bit of a rock feel to it. This one is a celebration of the sacraments of baptism and communion and the feeling of closeness with God that results. “There’s a different kind of tear now in my eye, a response to a freer wind that’s blowing in a bigger sky.”

Ready For the Storm - I seem to be drawn to songs about navigating stormy weather, whether it’s figurative (Bridge Over Troubled Water), literal (Heartland) or both (Candle on the Water). This song - the only one on the album that Mullins didn’t have a hand in writing - fits in nicely with this tradition of songs, with a guitar and fiddle base that gives it a bit of the flavor of a Celtic sea shanty. A stirring track that speaks of a willingness to face life’s storms, knowing that God is in control. “The waves crash in the tide rolls out. It's an angry sea but there is no doubt that the lighthouse will keep shining out to warn a lonely sailor…”

One True Love - Another percussion-heavy song that feels pretty 80s to me. Mullins talks of no other love satisfying like God’s will and wanting to share that love with everybody. A little hard-rockin’ for me, but it’s got some great lines. “And I heard the words of a wise man. He said, ‘There’s only two ways you can go. One way can save your riches, and the other will save your soul.’”

How Can I Keep Myself From Singing - The title of this one calls to mind the old hymn How Can I Keep From Singing?, while the percussion gives a world music vibe to it, making the album come full circle. The song mostly consists of repetitions of “Hallelujah,” with the aid of several vocalists, giving the sense that this is a song sung by many people of faith throughout the world. “I feel my heart; my heart is beating. It has a rhythm strong and sure, and in the name that brought me healing, I pray for a healing of this world.”

A few of these songs feel a bit dated now, but on the whole, the album holds up very well, and I’d eagerly recommend it to anyone looking for well-crafted music that glorifies God. When I’m in the mood for music that offers insightful explorations of the Bible, I think first of Michael Card, but for delving into the daily struggles and rewards of faith, Mullins is the artist that springs to mind right away. What a shame he left us so soon; what a joy he left us such a legacy.

You'll Never Look at a Tuesday the Same Way Again

Today is a Tuesday. Valentine’s Day was yesterday and my birthday was Saturday, but today is a plain old ordinary Tuesday, and I have no particular reason to expect that anything unusual will occur. Except I can’t help harboring that hope, since David Wiesner has painted Tuesday in such an extraordinary light.

Tuesday is a Caldecott-winning picture book that is virtually wordless and seems designed to encourage readers to embrace enchanting possibilities. Tuesday is probably the most mundane day of the week. It’s not the weekend. It’s not the beginning, end or even middle of the work week. At least with Thursday, you know that Friday is coming soon. But Tuesday? Dull City, right? Wrong. After reading this book, I may never see Tuesday the same way again.

Wiesner tells his tale primarily through a series of full-page watercolor paintings. We have seven full-blown two-page spreads, three two-page spreads with panel inserts zeroing in on individuals, two pages that feature a series of three long strip paintings and three full-page paintings. Alternating the format of the paintings helps to add interest and variation, as does the occasional inclusion of a blank white page featuring only a few words of explanatory text.

So what happens on Tuesday that is so amazing? The flight of the frogs. They rise, en masse, sitting serenely atop their lily pads, which function like flying carpets. It does not appear as though they have any idea where they are going or any desire to change course. They are being taken for an astounding ride, and they merely want to soak in all of the beauty and excitement they can. Their eyes are black, wide and shiny, with little pinpricks of white that accentuate the impression that while this may look like a surrealistic dream to any casual observer, for them, it is a dream come true.

We catch glimpses of their night flight, while Wiesner leaves us plenty of room to imagine what might happen between panels. Some frogs seem more appreciative than others. I love the one that zooms along on his lily pad, his eyes and mouth wide open, smiling as expansively as a frog can and seemingly urging his vegetative vehicle on as he scares the feathers off a crow perched on a wire. Toward the end of the book, when their adventure is over, one brown frog sits with his face in his webbed hand, glowering at the world because he’s so disgruntled to be back in the water.

On one page, we zoom in so close that they look like invading aliens, hovering in mid-air. What are we to make of this puzzling migration? To me, it feels positively providential, with a sense of solemnity mingled with joy. It reminds me a great deal of the Fantasia 2000 segment featuring the flying whales. Such fluid grace… But not everybody sees it that way. I think my favorite painting in the book is the single-page illustration at 11:21 p.m. in which they go cruising past the window of a man who is enjoying a midnight snack. There he is, sitting at the table in his pajamas and robe, a sandwich nearly to his mouth, when out of the corner of his eye, something strange catches his attention, and he is captured in such a classic “What the…?” expression that I laugh out loud every time I look at him.

As the book neared its end, I was reminded of Dr. Seuss’s The 500 Hats of Bartholomew Cubbins, which, the narrator explained, was something that just “happened to happen and was not very likely to happen again.” For the frogs, this is probably true. But next week, who knows whose turn it will be for an adventure? Maybe even yours…

My 14 Favorite Movie Kisses (Plus a Couple From TV)

Yesterday was Valentine’s Day, a holiday that compelled me to watch a sappy movie or two. Then I came here to Epinions, and I revisited a list that my good friend Beth compiled of her favorite movie kisses. When she first published it, I said I’d have to compose a similar list soon, but I never did, so I’m doing it now. Of course, I’m terrible at coming up with lists like this because every time I think I’ve got it figured out, I think of another movie or ten that I need to add to the list. But here, in chronological order, is my not-at-all definitive list of 14 favorite movie kisses – a couple of which aren’t technically kisses, but feel like them – followed by my favorite miniseries kiss and TV series kiss.

"Look at the skies, they have stars in their eyes on this lovely belle notte." - Lady and the Tramp (1955)

The spaghetti kiss.  Accidental, and only lasting seconds, but incredibly sweet.  Sheltered, elegant Lady and rough-and-tumble Tramp are enjoying a night out on the town, and for my money, this may be the most romantic dinner scene in movie history.  The fact that they are dogs makes it all the more romantic, especially when Tramp nudges the last meatball her way.  Anybody with a dog could tell you what a remarkable gesture this is...



“You can’t… marry someone when you’re in love with someone else.” - The Sound of Music (1965)

When I think of impactful movie kisses, this one almost always comes to mind first. The Sound of Music is such a perfect movie, with the romantic tension between Captain Von Trapp and Maria stretched out just enough to make us really cheer for the moment when they finally confess their love for each other. The scene is just so beautifully done, especially that instant when the eyes get all misty and the oh-so-composed captain reveals the extent of his vulnerability. And though the two are truly alone together for one of the first times in the movie, within that first blissful kiss are wrapped up a love of the Captain’s children, of the nuns who are Maria’s family and of the God who guides them both. Just beautiful.



“Look to me, reaching out to show as sure as rivers flow, I’ll never let you go…” - Pete’s Dragon (1977)

Up until a couple months ago, if you were to ask me to name my favorite Disney love song, I would, without reservation, say Candle on the Water from Pete’s Dragon, even though we don’t meet the object of Nora’s affections until the end of the movie, even though it’s not the film’s main focus. Ever since Tangled, it ties with I See the Light, a song of romantic awakening – and I can’t help finding it funny that my two favorite Disney love songs both use light on the water as the central metaphor. But Candle on the Water is all about steadfast devotion, about keeping the faith against all odds. Nora does, and when her faith is finally rewarded, what an embrace awaits!



“When he comes back, I won’t get in the way.” “Oh, Han, it isn’t like that at all. He’s my brother.” - The Return of the Jedi (1983)

When they first met, roguish Han Solo and haughty Leia Organa didn’t much like each other. By the second movie, they’d gained some respect for each other, but Han still had a major self-serving streak, and he had it coming when Leia called him a “stuck-up, half-witted, scruffy-looking Nerfherder” before kissing Luke. Leia and Luke don’t have the tumultuous kind of relationship she and Han do, and they share a deep psychic bond. Of course, early in the third movie, we learn that Luke and Leia are siblings, but poor Han, who is finally learning to live for someone other than himself, remains in the dark. While he’s fighting alongside Leia for Luke’s sake, he still views him as a romantic rival, and a clean-cut hero probably better suited to a princess. So the look on his face at the end of the trilogy when Leia laughs off his blessing to go with Luke, the slow shift from disappointment to confusion to blissful incredulity as she kisses him and reveals that Luke is her brother, is absolutely priceless.



“Since the invention of the kiss there have been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.” – The Princess Bride (1987)

Well, the quote about says it all about Westley and Buttercup, doesn’t it? Here’s a couple who endured, among other things, presumed death, actual death, lengthy separation, quicksand, kidnapping, unusually sized rodents, torture and marriage to a pompous prince with a nose for iocaine powder. A couple whose love is so epic, so profound, that even a skeptical pre-adolescent boy doesn’t mind hearing about that one last kiss assuring that nothing will ever come between them again. After all, this is true love; you think this happens every day?



“It’s amazing, Molly, the love inside… You take it with you.” - Ghost (1990)

No, not the famous scene that my dad speculates caused enrollment in pottery classes to skyrocket. I’m talking about the final scene in the movie, when Sam has finally ensured Molly’s safety and is ready to move on. Suddenly, Molly can see with her own eyes what the eccentric Oda Mae has been telling her all along: that Sam is there. And finally they can speak one last time, without an intermediary. When Sam, engulfed in light, kisses the stunned Molly, it’s a moment at once joyful and melancholy, made inexpressibly more poignant by the celestial orchestral arrangement of Unchained Melody, one of my favorite pieces of movie music ever.



“Please don’t leave me. I love you!” – Beauty and the Beast (1991)

Who could ever learn to love a Beast? Belle, the noblest and deepest of the Disney princesses, could, and the extent of her regard for this man too long enslaved by his own selfishness carried the power to save a life and transform a kingdom. Granted, it’s a rather crummy stipulation that she must actually state the words; it was clear that she loved him when she left the castle to find her father. Was there ever any doubt that she would return once she had restored him to health? But then we wouldn’t have this climactic moment that so dramatically illustrates the power of love to bring light forth from darkness.



“It was the happiest moment of my life.” - Forrest Gump (1994)

Forrest and Jenny, bosom buddies since the age of five, do share kisses in the movie, but it’s this hug to end all hugs that best conveys the vastness of their regard for each other. As thousands of riled-up protesters look on, Jenny wades into the Reflecting Pool looking like Mary Travers and Forrest, sharp as a tack in his freshly decorated uniform, leaps into the crowd and does what he does best – runs. Right into the waiting arms of the woman for whom his love has never wavered, and never will. And the crowd goes wild. In that moment, this vagabond who’s already seen so much of the worst the world has to offer is genuinely as happy to see this man who has only ever shown her kindness as he is to see her. No kiss could trump the affection encapsulated in this moment.



“I come here with no expectation, only to declare, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is, and always will be, yours.” - Sense and Sensibility (1995)

The kiss we didn’t see. When I read Sense and Sensibility, I was disappointed that we didn’t really get to see Edward and Elinor’s big moment first-hand. We spent most of the book leading up to it, and then it felt rather glossed over. Emma Thompson’s brilliant screenplay fixes that for us, and Hugh Grant is at his most adorable as he bumbles his way through his earnest declaration of love. It’s enough for us to see unflappable Elinor a mangled mess of laughter and sobs before the demure cutaway. But I am free to imagine the kiss that followed, and I imagine that it was a doozy.



“When was the last time you were decently kissed? I mean truly, truly, good and kissed?” - That Thing You Do! (1996)

I couldn’t leave Erie’s little claim to fame off the list, even if the lovebirds decide to remain in California instead of returning to these frosty shores. In this Tom Hanks-helmed charmer about a one-hit wonder band that starts out in Erie, fresh-faced 20-something Guy is a percussionist passionate about music. He’s also a deeply devoted friend to Faye, the neglected girlfriend of bandleader Jimmy. Throughout the film, he attends to her when Jimmy does not, and it’s obvious that he genuinely cares about her. After Jimmy takes his self-absorption one step too far, the band falls apart and Guy thinks the dream is over. But when he sees Faye sitting alone, preparing to return to her old life, he realizes that a new dream is just beginning.



“You saw me when I was invisible.” – The Princess Diaries (2001)

Ah, the foot-popping kiss. It’s such a Disney sort of moment, with the princess and her true love locking lips for the first time. In this instance, it isn’t quite the first kiss for Mia, who only recently was a gangly geek used to getting stomped on by nearly everyone in school, but it’s the first one that means something. Like Mia, I’ve always imagined my first kiss being something magical, with the orchestra in my heart, to borrow a term from Pushing Daisies, playing at full volume. But whatever the circumstances, I would want to share it with someone who, like Mia’s sweet admirer here, appreciates me for who I am, with all my kooky quirks.



“But I don’t understand. I was supposed to be beautiful.” “You are beautiful.” – Shrek (2001)

As much as I love Beauty and the Beast, I also love the scene in Shrek in which Fiona does not transform. Shrek already looks like a beast, and by night, Fiona does too. But the ogre is her true form, and she does not need the conventional beauty afforded her by the human princess body in order for Shrek to deem her beautiful. It’s really a lovely subversion of a fairy tale I adore that ultimately makes the same point: that true beauty is more than just skin deep.



“You wanna know a secret? … You’re the sweetest guy I’ve ever known.” - 13 Going on 30 (2004)

I saw this movie for the first time in October of 2005, when I was coming off a very depressing period and moving into a very fruitful one. Maybe it was partly my giddy state of mind at the time, but this movie threw me for a loop. I expected a light little romcom, but it took hold of me completely, touching me far more profoundly than I would have expected. “Well,” I thought, “that’s what love is all about.” It’s a shame that the movie’s most memorable kiss occurs when Matt, the childhood chum of Jennifer Garner’s teen-in-adult-skin Jenna, is engaged, but these two feel so right together that I can’t deny them that perfect moment, after which, she tells her teenage confidantes at a slumber party soon afterward, she “floated home on a cloud”. All I can do is long for the clock to reset so that Jenna can reclaim those lost years and treat the best friend she ever had with the respect and love he so richly deserves.



“Other lights may light my way; I may even find romance. But I won't forget that night when you taught me how to dance.” - Miss Potter (2006)

I’d half-forgotten this moment until Beth mentioned it on her list, but there’s something so incredibly sweet about the awkward, gradual courtship between confirmed spinster Beatrix and her starry-eyed young publisher Norman. It’s such a wonderfully touching love story, tragically cut short. If this movie is any indication – and given the restrictions that surrounded Beatrix under the care of her stuffy parents, it wouldn’t surprise me much – the two shared just one kiss, at once chaste and passionate, before they were torn apart for what was meant to be merely a brief separation. Wrenching.

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”I don’t want diamond sunbursts or marble halls. I just want you.” - Anne of Avonlea (1987)

When I think of Gilbert Blythe, the first word that comes to mind is “patient”. In Kevin Sullivan’s brilliant pair of miniseries (we won’t go into the two that followed), it takes all of Anne of Green Gables just to get Anne to fully forgive him for the egregious offense of teasing her about her hair way back when they first met. He bends over backwards to try to win her friendship, and she stubbornly brushes him aside. In Anne of Avonlea, they’re friends, but Anne has her ideals of romance, and boy-next-door Gilbert doesn’t fit them. His proposal horrifies her – and her refusal horrifies just about every gal watching at home. It takes an extended separation, a proposal from a man who fits her dream profile and Gilbert’s near-death from illness to make Anne finally appreciate what she should have had all along. The kiss is understated; the catharsis isn’t.

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“I love you, Penny… and I’ll never leave you again.” - There’s No Place Like Home, Part 3, LOST (2008)

And speaking of unions a long time in coming, I had to mention the epic romance that swept so many LOST fans off their feet. The season two finale of the trippy, emotional island drama introduced viewers to Penelope Widmore, the daughter of a wealthy businessman and the one true love of Desmond Hume, the Scotsman stranded on the Island for three years. Throughout the third and fourth seasons, we saw the trials they weathered and the lengths to which both were willing to go to finally reunite. Their first contact, by phone, after years apart remains one of the most brilliantly written and acted scenes in the series. In fact, I still rank it as my favorite Desmond and Penny moment. But when they finally physically reunite in the season four finale after two long seasons of build-up, the ecstasy in that reunion lip-lock may just be enough to nudge Westley and Buttercup from their exalted position.

So, there you have it: a collection of my favorite cinematic kisses, to which many could no doubt be added. What are some of yours?

The Anastasia Soundtrack Is a Melodious Celebration of Adventure and Romance

It’s a frosty Valentine’s Day in Erie, PA, the perfect excuse to pull out the soundtrack to one of my favorite wintry romances: Don Bluth’s Anastasia. My brother and I caught this underrated gem in the theater in high school, and it may just take pride of place as my favorite Bluth movie, though there are several others that I love as well. One of the big reasons I’m such a fan of Anastasia is the music, with songs by Lynn Ahrens (lyrics) and Stephen Flaherty (music) and a score by David Newman. I liked it so much that I not only bought the soundtrack, I got the sheet music too. It’s sweeping, melodious and adventurous, with just a dash of romance. A great way to start off my Valentine’s Day.

A Rumor in St. Petersburg - A lively opening number. This isn’t the first scene in the movie, but it’s the one that firmly sets us in a time a decade after the initial scene, during which villainous Rasputin launches an attack on the Romanovs, Russia’s royal family, in which most of them are killed. Princess Anastasia, a young girl, escapes but loses her memory. This song brings us up to speed in delightful fashion, with a whole city full of characters gossiping about the rumor that Anastasia might still be out there somewhere. This song gets a lot of exposition out of the way in a most entertaining manner, and it also introduces us to likable conmen Dmitri and Vladimir, who plan to find a girl who looks like Anastasia and go to Paris, where Anastasia’s grandmother has put out a reward for her return, to pass her off as the princess. Jonathan Dokuchitz voices slick young Dmitri instead of John Cusack, while Kelsey Grammer is one of the few voice actors in the movie who takes on his character’s singing role as well as speaking. I’m a big fan of Frasier and of Grammer in general, but he’s so effectively disguised his voice in a thick Russian accent here that I always half-forget it’s him. A wonderfully chaotic beginning that reminds me of such Disney greats as Beauty and the Beast’s Belle and Aladdin’s One Jump Ahead. “We’ll find a girl to play the part and teach her what to say, dress her up and take her to Paris. Imagine the reward her dear old Grandmama will pay! Who else could pull it off but you and me?”

Journey to the Past - I love this song, and as is almost always the case with these animated musicals that produce radio hits, I prefer the in-movie version. There’s such an air of wonder and anticipation, as well as trepidation, about it, and I can relate so well to that tug-of-war between a longing for adventure and a fear of leaving the familiar. The song reminds me a lot of I Have Confidence from The Sound of Music, and it’s one of my two favorites in the movie. The piano and violins evoke the snowflakes and wind that accompany her as she sets out. Liz Callaway, singing in place of Meg Ryan, voices Anastasia with a clear-throated exuberance and beauty that reminds me of Jodi Benson from The Little Mermaid. This is the moment during which the audience is meant to fall in love with the adult Anastasia, who goes by Anya and does not yet realize who she is. All she knows is that she yearns to belong to someone. An exhilarating track. “Heart, don’t fail me now. Courage, don’t desert me. Don’t turn back now that we’re here. People always say life is full of choices; no one ever mentions fear…”

Once Upon a December - Callaway has this one to herself as well, and it’s a whispery, awestruck waltz that is nothing short of haunting. Anastasia has returned to her childhood home and is catching snatches of memories, none of which make much sense to her. The song is an outgrowth of the lullaby she and her grandmother used to sing together, the song that played in the music box that she received on the night her life changed forever. It’s an utterly beautiful song that captures the sense that all of Anastasia’s childhood lies just beyond a veil, and dim glimpses are all she can see. It carries with it the hope that one day those memories might be recovered. Starts and ends quietly, with a crescendo in the middle as everything comes into focus for one shining moment before eluding her again. Gorgeous. “Far away, long ago, glowing dim as an ember, things my heart used to know, things it yearns to remember. And a song someone sings once upon a December…”

In the Dark of the Night - The big villain’s number. Jim Cummings, voice actor extraordinaire perhaps best known for replacing Sterling Holloway as the voice of Winnie the Pooh, is Christopher Lloyd’s singing counterpart as the evil, putrescent Rasputin. This is an appropriately dark and creepy song reminiscent of Gaston’s Kill the Beast from Beauty and the Beast and especially Scar’s Be Prepared from The Lion King. He’s plotting the destruction of the one person who foiled his perfect plan for the annihilation of the Romanovs. The sound is ominous, and Cummings’ delivers the lyrics with sadistic relish. “I was once the most mystical man in all Russia. When the royals betrayed me they made a mistake. My curse made each of them pay, but one little girl got away. Little Anya beware, Rasputin’s awake!”

Learn to Do It - This is a fun number that covers several hours or days during which Dmitri and Vladimir give Anastasia a crash course on how to be a Romanov. There’s a banter type of feel to this song as Vlad, Dmitri and Anya interrupt each other in their eagerness to instill and display knowledge. Definitely one of the most fun tracks. “Count Sergei.” “Wore a feathered hat.” “I hear he’s gotten very fat.” “And I recall his yellow cat…” “I don’t believe we told her that…”

Learn to Do It (Waltz Reprise) - The same basic melody as the last track returns in this gentle, much shorter reprise. Where the last one was energetic and a bit zany, this one is quiet, slow and romantic. It’s mostly instrumental as Dmitri shows Anya how to dance to prepare her for the possibility of a formal ball in Paris. As Vlad watches, it’s painfully obvious to him that this tender moment was the only catalyst these spitfires needed to realize that they have fallen in love – and that could wreak major havoc on their perfect plan. A nice little showcase for Kelsey Grammer. “Vlad, how could you do this? How will we get through this? I never should have let them dance…”

Paris Holds the Key (to Your Heart) - Another very lively song that gets the whole city involved, but in this case we’re in France instead of Russia. It’s basically an exuberant celebration of French culture led by Bernadette Peters as Vlad’s old flame Sophie, with a moment at the end for some quiet reflection by Dmitri, who has just realized that Anya actually is Anastasia and suddenly doesn’t find the idea of a hefty cash reward all that attractive. I don’t get that into the more raucous parts of the song, but I really like Dmitri’s lines, which show how much he’s changed over the course of this journey. “Paris holds the key to her past. Yes, Princess, you’ve come home at last. No more pretend; you’ll be gone, that’s the end.”

At the Beginning - This radio-ready end-credits song is performed by Donna Lewis and Richard Marx. It’s a nice follow-up to Journey to the Past as it reflects Anastasia and Dmitri’s desire to embark on a new journey together. I’m not a huge fan of Lewis’s voice, but I do like this song, and I think it’s nice that one more song was written to give us a sort of epilogue to the movie. Of course, it’s a great stand-alone too. “No one told me I was going to find you. Unexpected what you did to my heart. When I lost hope, you were there to remind me this Is the start.”

Journey to the Past (Aaliyah) - I considered this song pretty superfluous at the time, but even though I prefer the movie version, there’s something very poignant about listening to this song now, since Aaliyah, the promising young singer who performed it, died in a tragic accident a few short years later. She puts a funky vibe on it and sings beautifully; this arrangement is a little repetitive, but it’s still a nice track.

Once Upon a December (Deana Carter) - This song scarcely changes from the movie version. It’s a little less dynamic, and the most prominent instrument is a mandolin, played by Jerry McPherson. I love his instrumental work here, and that’s the main reason to listen to this, though Carter does a nice job with the vocals too.

Prologue - This mostly-instrumental track captures the sense of majesty in the Romanov court, along with the tenderness between Anastasia and her grandmother. We get to hear Angela Lansbury, who, unlike Kelsey Grammer, is immediately recognizable despite her Russian accent, as well as Lacey Chabert as the young Anastasia, singing a snippet of Once Upon a December together before the tone turns dire with the appearance of Rasputin.

Speaking of Sophie - A bright, sunshiny instrumental track heavy on the woodwinds that evokes the giddiness of Vlad’s recollections of his long-ago love. Just a very cheerful, sweet track that puts me in mind of a picnic in the park.

The Nightmare - The creepiest of the instrumental tracks, it’s half blissful dream and half torturous nightmare. The chorus of voices adds to the eeriness, and the full orchestral backing captures the frightening flavor of a storm at sea.

Kidnap and Reunion - Starts off a bit perilous but blossoms into one of the loveliest tracks on the album, with a hope-filled melody peeking out hesitatingly as Anastasia’s memory finally begins flooding back and her incredulous grandmother begins to think that this might actually be the little girl she lost so long ago. It concludes with a reprise of Once Upon a December, with Lansbury and Callaway this time. Probably my favorite instrumental track, along with Reminiscing with Grandma, which almost feels like a continuation. Lovely and stirring, it incorporates Journey to the Past and feels mysterious and familiar all at once. Finale also feels mostly like an outgrowth of these two scenes as we get the impression that her journey has come full circle and she is home at last but has gained something valuable in the journey as well as the destination. A joyous conclusion.

Viaje Tiempo Atras (Journey to the Past) - You know, this song would make more sense if it was in Russian, or even French. But a Spanish version of Journey to the Past seems pretty random, not to mention superfluous, since it’s the third version of this song on the soundtrack, not counting the song’s appearances in the instrumental tracks. Thalia does a nice job with the vocals here, it just seems like a rather odd choice.

But I really do love this album, especially the first eight tracks. Another plus is that the liner notes include stills from the movie, along with the lyrics to the songs. It’s very attractively packaged. Anastasia is a story of self-discovery and learning that sometimes it takes another person to help you become yourself as fully as possible. A touching tale and stirring music for Valentine’s Day or any day.

It's Love at First Listen for Annie in Sleepless in Seattle

“Do you believe that two people can be connected? Like soulmates?” This is the question that gentle Libby poses to The Teddy Bear Formerly Known as Hurley in Everybody Loves Hugo, his only centric episode of LOST’s sixth season. They’ve never met in this intriguing timeline in which everything seems slightly askew, but Libby can’t shake the feeling that he is her destiny. Crazy, right? Or could there be something to it?

This was the scene that kept replaying in my mind as I watched Nora Ephron’s Sleepless in Seattle for the first time in years. With Libby, it’s a glimpse on TV that sparks the sense of recognition. For Annie Reed (Meg Ryan), the young woman in the movie, it’s hearing him on the radio. After his precocious 8-year-old son Jonah (Ross Malinger) calls in to a radio show to discuss the sad state of his dad’s life, recently widowed Sam Baldwin (Tom Hanks) reluctantly spills his guts to radio psychiatrist Dr. Marcia Fieldstone (Caroline Aaron).

Annie is not the only woman who feels an instant connection; hundreds of women write to him after the show airs, offering to help him dip into the dating scene again. But Annie is our focus, and we’re meant to believe that her attraction to him is deeper. That they truly are soulmates. Which would mean, it seems, that Sam has two, since all indications are that he and his wife Maggie (Carrie Lowell) shared an idyllic relationship, and now he can scarcely function without her. Early in the movie, Sam states, “It doesn’t happen twice.” That’s not to say that a person can’t have two happy, fulfilling marriages. But if he and Annie were "MFEO" ("made for each other," one of the annoying acronyms coined by Jonah’s even more precocious friend Jessica (Gaby Hoffman)), where does that leave Maggie?

That aspect of the movie bothers me a bit. Jonah, like Eddie in The Courtship of Eddie’s Father, is obsessed with finding a replacement mom. “I’m starting to forget her,” he sadly confides at one point, but mostly he seems to be okay with that. He wants to get the show on the road. Sam doesn’t. Sam seems like a very real, reasonable guy who spends most of the movie in a bit of a haze. He’s a devoted dad; that’s his one defining characteristic here. But he still misses his wife terribly and just isn’t sure how to proceed in her absence.

Sam is the one unwittingly caught up in this, annoyed by his son’s initial interference and later fixation on a woman who lives on the opposite coast. Throughout the movie, he is all practicality – except on the three occasions on which he actually sees Annie. The first two times, he doesn't know that she is the one who wrote the letter that so impressed Jonah, but he too feels a sense of connection. It’s enough to jostle him out of his stupor. But he has no idea if he will ever see her again.

Ryan brings all of her usual charm to the role of Annie, though anyone who acted as she does in real life would be charitably considered erratic. She abuses her privileges as a journalist to essentially stalk Sam and Jonah “for a story”, flying all the way out to have a look at them for herself. But when Sam spots her looking and greets her from across a busy street, she panics and bolts.

Her obsession with Sam is all the more troubling because she is engaged. Walter (Bill Pullman) isn’t one of those stereotypical jerk boyfriends you so often find in movies like this. We’re meant to find him boring, and clearly there’s a certain zing lacking in their relationship. But Walter is a seriously nice guy who has done nothing whatsoever to drive his fiancée into the arms of a strange man. So while I confess that I do get caught up in the whimsy of this movie and catch myself feeling all fluttery, I can’t help feeling really sorry for poor Walter, who, while the woman he loves is dashing off to fulfill a cinematic fantasy atop the Empire State Building, is having the worst Valentine’s Day of his life.

And then there’s the fact that this big moment is preceded by Jonah, with the help of Jessica, securing a plane ticket to New York and somehow managing to make that journey all by himself and then spending the day atop the Empire State Building waiting for Annie to show up, as she proposed in her letter, to which he responded – except, since he has no idea what she looks like, he has to ask every woman in sight if she is Annie. It’s a colossally stupid and dangerous plot.

Four years later, Ryan and Hanks teamed up again for You’ve Got Mail, which was loosely based on the Jimmy Stewart classic Shop Around the Corner and features another unconventional romance, this time involving anonymous Internet pals who are falling in love online and don’t realize that they are rivals in real life. I really like that movie and the gradual development of the relationship at its heart. While I’m watching Sleepless in Seattle, I like it too. But when I stop to think it over, it’s no surprise to me why my dad walked out on it after ten minutes. “This is so contrived,” he complained. Although I am not immune to its charms, I can’t disagree.

“It was a million tiny little things that, when you added them all up, they meant we were supposed to be together,” Sam tells Dr. Fieldstone when she asks what was so special about Maggie. A million tiny little things that he doesn’t know about Annie. Do I believe that two people can be connected? Like soulmates? Yes. But once the warm fuzzies wear off, I don’t think that Sam and Annie are quite there.

Regan Takes Center Stage in Trixie Belden and the Black Jacket Mystery

It’s been more than a decade since I first read Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, but I remember well the sense of intrigue when I realized that Rubeus Hagrid, my favorite character in the Potterverse, had a deep, dark secret. Would it get him into trouble? Would it change my opinion of him? I had comparable concerns when I read Trixie Belden and the Black Jacket Mystery, the eighth book in the Trixie Belden series. Groomsman Bill Regan, whose relationship with the young gumshoes at the heart of the series reminds me a fair bit of Hagrid’s relationship with Harry, Ron and Hermione, steps out of the sidelines and into the spotlight here as he comes under Trixie’s scrutiny. Because I love Regan so much, I found this installment one of the most engrossing yet, especially since, after a bumpy seventh book, the characters all feel like themselves again.

This is the second book in the series written by “Kathryn Kenny,” a catch-all pseudonym for a number of ghostwriters who took the series over from original author Julie Campbell. If I hadn’t known that Campbell didn’t write this one, I’m not sure I would’ve picked up on the difference; this author does a great job of approximating her style. One scene that struck me as a little atypical was a conversation that Mr. and Mrs. Belden share, entirely out of earshot of Trixie or anyone else in the Bob-Whites, the exclusive club of which she is a part. It didn’t bother me, though; I thought it was rather nice to catch a glimpse of them in this private moment as spouses and parents.

All of the characterization here felt refreshingly right. I especially loved the change in Honey Wheeler, Trixie’s best friend and close neighbor, from volume seven. In that book, the author focuses almost entirely on Honey’s timidity and exaggerates it to a galling degree. Here, the emphasis is instead on the empathy and consideration that make her such an endearing character. As a houseguest, she deftly juggles the affections of Trixie’s three brothers, studious 16-year-old Brian, smart-alecky 14-year-old Mart and rambunctious 6-year-old Bobby. Meanwhile, despite his rude behavior to her, she persists in encouraging Trixie not to write off their surly new schoolmate Dan too quickly.

The trouble begins in this book when Trixie overhears part of a conversation between Regan and her parents. This aspect of the story made me chuckle a bit, since she steadfastly avoids eavesdropping on their chat but immediately becomes obsessed with figuring out what they were talking about. Given her burning curiosity, I found it a little hard to believe that she would be able to resist listening in and wonder if it might have made more sense for her to merely get home a few minutes later and come upon the end of the conversation when she walked in the door. Then again, it’s a mark of her respect for Regan that she thinks he is entitled to his privacy. Mostly.

What’s up with Regan? Trixie can’t figure it out, and it’s eating her. It’s not like him to be in such a state of agitation. Regan has a bigger role here than in any of the previous books, as does sage groundskeeper Mr. Maypenny. Both of them are tangled up in the matter of Dan Mangan, who not only is new to school but is working for the graying Mr. Maypenny. A tough talker who skulks about in a black jacket, he’s a loner with a Rebel Without a Cause vibe about him. When strange things – missing objects, mysterious injuries – begin to happen on the Wheeler grounds, he seems like the obvious culprit. But could there be more to the story?

This is an engrossing book that introduces a major new character and delves more deeply into the background of another. While Diana Lynch, the pretty nouveau riche girl who is a friend to Trixie and Honey, scarcely appears in the book at all – her only contributions are to furnish costumes for a winter show the Bob-Whites put on and to make eyes at Dan when he first shows up at school – the others have plenty to do. I especially like the way that Dan’s rough-and-tumble history moves Honey’s adopted brother Jim, who spent a short time living on the run and understands too well the pain of being unmoored.

For the second time in the series, this book finds the Bob-Whites working together for a noble cause, in this case replenishing the school library of their Mexican pen pals. Part of the plot involves the preparations for this outdoor event. Another recurring plot element is Bobby getting himself into some sort of potentially dangerous mischief, and his predicament in this book is truly harrowing and one of the most exciting action sequences in the series thus far. These story threads, in addition to the questions surrounding the behavior of Regan, Dan and Mr. Maypenny, make this eighth book a real page-turner and a promising indication that Campbell’s characters could thrive again under the pen of the right writer.

Season Two Brings Us Chuck Versus Charlie Pace and Lots of Other Geeky Goodness

Here in northwest Pennsylvania, football fans are busy gearing up for an exciting Super Bowl. They’re either eagerly rooting for the Steelers or, because they hate the Steelers – usually favoring the Browns or Bills – they’re rooting for Green Bay. My Facebook news feed is all lit up with declarations of anticipation. But on Sunday, my dad has already declared that we will be spending the day watching a “Chuck-a-thon,” and that sounds grand to me. We can still have the party, but the main event will be different. We finished the second season of Chuck a few days ago and are now embarking upon season three. “This show is addictive!” noted my dad, who has seen several of the episodes twice, since he’ll watch them with Mom and then re-watch them with me when I get home from an evening of working at the mall. I quite agree. But I am not complaining.

Season two of the action-mystery-romance-comedy, created by Josh Schwartz and Chris Fedak, finds Chuck (Zachary Levi) temporarily believing that he is about to resume his normal life. He’s had the Intersect, a compendium of top-secret government information, in his head for about a year, but the new Intersect is finished, and the government is done with him. He hopes that means a shot at a real relationship with Sarah Walker (Yvonne Strahovski), the sweet and pretty CIA agent who has been his handler all this time. What neither of them knows is that the third member of their little team, tough-as-nails NSA assassin John Casey (Adam Baldwin), still my second-favorite character on the show, has been ordered to put Chuck out of commission permanently. This is the first of several times in the season when we find him torn between duty to the government and loyalty to his friends – because by this point, it’s unmistakable that he has come to care about Chuck and Sarah, though he rarely shows it outwardly. Still, while his stoic but sarcastic demeanor continues to bring the laughs, we get to see a bit more of his softer side this season, and its way of expressing itself is usually just as funny as it is touching.

When the unveiling of the new Intersect ends in disaster, steely General Beckman (Bonita Friedericy), who we mostly only see via videoconference, is left no choice but to reassess Chuck’s value to the government, and she almost begins to see him as a person rather than simply a piece of equipment. Meanwhile, it becomes more and more difficult for him to separate his spy life from his home life with his sister Ellie (Sarah Lancaster) and her soon-to-be-husband Devon “Captain Awesome” Woodcomb (Ryan McPartlin) and his work life at the Buy More with his best friend, Morgan Grimes (Joshua Gomez), and an array of oddball associates. It all becomes quite entangled, with his friends and family getting unwittingly involved in his missions in hilarious and something frightening ways, and one member of his inner circle even gets in on the spy secret this season.

We get to delve a little deeper into all of the characters this season. Retail annoyances Jeff Barnes (Scott Krinsky) and Lester Patel (Vik Sahay) reveal hitherto untapped talents and ambitions. One is a video game whiz; the other tries his hand at being assistant manager when Chuck declines the job, briefly believing that he will soon bid the Buy More goodbye. Both cherish surprising dreams of rock star glory with a duo known as Jeffster. Grumpy but lovable Buy More manager Big Mike (Mark Christopher Lawrence) undergoes serious changes on the domestic and work fronts that affect everyone in the store, particularly Morgan, and spicy Anna Wu (Julia Ling) finds herself torn when it comes to her relationship with Morgan. This season also introduces a new character, the deliciously irritating Emmett Milbarge (Tony Hale), who initially comes in to assess the productivity of the Burbank Buy More staff and stays on as assistant manager because he is so appalled by what he sees. Carrying himself with an effete sibilance reminiscent of LOST’s Ben Linus, whom he rather resembles, Emmett provided a lot of the season’s biggest laughs for me. On the home front, it’s all about the preparations for Ellie and Devon’s nuptials, which are stressing Ellie out big-time, mostly because Devon’s mother (Morgan Fairchild) is heavily involved in the planning.

The writing is just as sharp in the second season as the first, with all of the elements blended together perfectly but humor always mixed in just a little more liberally. The romantic tension between Chuck and Sarah increases as romantic rivals – most intriguingly, his ex-girlfriend, Dr. Jill Roberts (Jordana Brewster) – pop up and their missions require them to practice the art of seduction. Both Sarah and Chuck find themselves in some pretty steamy situations this season, usually not with each other. This makes the show feel slightly less innocent this time around. Overall, the tone gets a smidge darker as we explore Sarah and Chuck’s childhood traumas – when do we get to see Casey’s? – and the team goes up against a rogue organization known as Fulcrum. This year, they have a nifty control center that rests underground between the Buy More and Sarah’s cover job, which has been transformed from a schlocky hot dog stand to a trendy frozen yogurt joint.

The show still abounds with geeky references. The vintage TRON poster that adorns Chuck’s room and is one of the most iconic props in the series gains even greater significance here as a major plot thread late in the season has deep resonance to the cult classic. I found myself very glad that I finally saw TRON a couple months ago, as I think it deepened my appreciation for several episodes. Adding to the TRON-tasticness of season two is the casting of Bruce Boxleitner, who played Tron in the movie, as Devon’s dad. Among other hat-tips, I loved the nod to The Karate Kid and what I took to be an obscure homage to The Princess Bride courtesy of Morgan, and it was a big kick to see Scott Bakula of Quantum Leap take on an important multi-episode guest role toward the end of the season.

A key location late in the season is called Black Rock, though I’m not sure if that’s an intentional wink at LOST. However, I love that three of the Island drama's cast members have guest roles. Anthony Azizi, who played mercenary Keamy’s right-hand baddie Omar, turns up here as a slightly more sophisticated villain, while Mark Pellegrino, who at that time had not yet joined the cast as enigmatic Island leader Jacob, is a petty thug. While I’m sure LOST had little to do with those casting decisions, Dom Monaghan is another story. Chuck Versus the Third Dimension, so named because the episode aired in 3-D, marked Monaghan’s first television appearance since he ceased to be a regular on LOST, and his character, Tyler Martin, is pretty much just Charlie Pace at the heights of his rock star depravity. He still has endearing qualities, but he’s a libidinous lush who’s so out of touch with reality that he can’t tell the difference between Burbank and Cleveland. This is the only episode of Chuck to date that I’ve watched when it actually aired, and it was funny to see it again now, in the wake of the final season, and wonder whether elements of this episode may have, in turn, inspired LOST show-runners Damon Lindelof and Carlton Cuse. Charlie’s trajectory in season six seems similar to Tyler’s in this episode, with a level-headed person trying to keep him out of trouble. I love, too, that both Tyler and season six Charlie get hit with tranq darts and are told that it is vitally important for them to play a particular concert.

Season two includes three holiday episodes: Thanksgiving, Christmas and Valentine’s Day. Thanksgiving includes what may be my favorite Big Mike moment to date, and he’s a major part of the Christmas episode too, during which we get to meet his equally bulky cousin. As Christmas episodes go, it’s a little twisted, since most of the time is spent in a hostage situation, but it also has its tender moments. Valentine’s Day offers a glimpse of what domestic life might be like for Chuck and Sarah if they were ever able to have a normal relationship. The season culminates in one of the most unique weddings ever to grace a TV screen.

In a season full of twists and turns, one thing that remains consistent is Chuck’s core decency. This is a guy with a strong sense of ethics and an unswerving devotion to his friends and family. When I say that he’s lovable enough to give LOST’s Hurley a run for his money, you know he’s really won me over. This is a terrific, life-affirming show that makes me laugh and smile in equal measure. Bring on the Super Bowl Sunday Chuck-a-thon!

Rhoda Janzen Returns to Her Roots in Mennonite in a Little Black Dress

They say you can never go home again. However, in Mennonite in a Little Black Dress, Rhoda Janzen chronicles the time she did just that. She had long left her conservative Mennonite childhood behind her as she embraced academia and the world at large. But after a personal crisis of epic proportions, she returned to her California hometown for an extended visit with her parents, and she found that going back wasn’t so bad after all.

I’d heard of Mennonite in a Little Black Dress and even skimmed the first couple of pages, but it was the recommendation of a friend, herself the author of a memoir, that convinced me to read it. It only took a few pages for Janzen’s witty prose to leave me in stitches. More than anything, this book made me laugh. But it’s also very poignant, and however many teasing remarks she may make about embarrassing Mennonite food and puzzling traditions, her affection for that way of life and especially for the people who live it is very real.

Like most memoirs I’ve read, Janzen’s doesn’t follow much of a linear path. We hop around a lot, going back to her childhood and to her years with her husband Nick, whose departure was one of the events precipitating her need to return home and regroup. A recent memory will lead to a related story, sometimes from her own life, sometimes an anecdote passed down by someone else. Each chapter has a theme to which everything in it ultimately connects; as someone prone to tangents, it was fun for me to make those invisible connections in my mind as I read. There’s a definite logic to what she discusses when she does, but it’s not always obvious how each story fits in.

Janzen’s memoir is filled with colorful characters, none more so than her mother, a nurse who is perpetually cheerful, practical and hard-working. Some of her quirks, like her tendency to burst into snippets of old hymns when she hears one of the words therein and her fondness for discussing bodily functions at the dinner table, elicit chuckles, but mostly, we’re left with the impression that this is a truly wonderful woman who has made a powerful, positive impact upon her family and her community.

Janzen’s mother feels very old-fashioned, as does her father, who keeps more of a distance but has a habit of summoning his family members to the computer to see the latest schmaltzy e-mail forward he’s received. Most of Rhoda’s peers seem more in step with modern society, so there’s a smattering of profanity and off-color talk that isn’t limited to the portions of the memoir dealing with her life outside this quiet town. There are times, during talks with her sister or sister-in-law or childhood friends, when it feels a bit like Sex and the City: The Mennonite Edition.

What attracted me most were the passages reminiscing about the ups and downs of growing up in such a distinct way of life, as well as anything involving her mother, who bubbles over with warmth and wholesome humor. I learned a lot about Mennonites from Janzen’s wry observations. She even devotes a chapter to Mennonite history and offers a semi-serious primer on modern Mennonite beliefs and practices. Mostly, though, it comes through more organically, and the sense I got was that while she considers many of the traditions quaint, she also takes a certain pride in them. And I definitely got the impression that she came to a deeper respect for the people of this community when they welcomed her so warmly after her largely loveless marriage ended. I could feel her cynicism ebbing away. This is perhaps best expressed in the fifth chapter, A Lingering Finish, which deals largely with the contrasts between her marriage and her sister’s. Midway through the chapter, she notes, “There was a time in my life – sadly, not so long ago – when quickness of mind seemed more important than kindness.”

Janzen is a writer who exhibits both of these qualities, balancing cleverness with real appreciation for the traditions, experiences and especially people who have shaped her life. Sometimes you can go home again. I’m very glad she did.