Over the past couple of decades, Jane Austen’s popularity has soared,
sparking a whole sub-genre of books incorporating her life and
characters. Knowing my fondness for this literary giant, a friend of
mine recently lent me her collection of Austen-inspired books. I kicked
off my reading marathon with The Lost Memoirs of Jane Austen, a novel by Syrie James that purports to be a long-missing manuscript explaining a gap in the author’s writing life.
The voice that James adopts as Jane feels authentic to the period,
albeit more conciliatory than I would imagine. Austen is known for her
razor-sharp wit, and she could be quite merciless with her descriptions
and dialogue. Here, she seems more like Pride and Prejudice’s
Jane Bennett, generally seeking to believe the best in people and making
excuses for any shortcomings that arise. Hence, she comes across as
more charitable but less funny than expected.
Additionally, at
a few points, James so closely mirrors scenes from Austen’s books that
it seems a discredit to her creativity, as the implication is that she
simply lifted events from her own life and planted them on the pages of
her novels. While most of the footnotes are informative and shed light
on Austen’s background and the general historical period, I found myself
annoyed by the ones that said, in reference to an invented conversation
mirroring one of the novels, “This is likely the inspiration for…” It’s
cheesy, and I think the book would have been stronger if readers had
been left to recognize those parallels on their own.
On the
whole, however, I found it an enjoyable read, with the close
relationship between Jane and her sister Cassandra especially
well-drawn. Reading this book, I got the sense that this was a woman who
very well could have vanished into obscurity without ever having been
published, and what a loss that would have been! Reading of her attempts
at writing at a time when she thought it folly was heartening for this
struggling storyteller.
It has puzzled many Austen fans that
some of the most enduring romance in English literature could have been
crafted by a spinster who had never experienced it herself. While I
simply credit Austen’s vivid imagination, the romance James invents here
feels plausible, and it was easy to get caught up in it even though I
knew that it ultimately would not work out. That still left plenty of
room to speculate about how and why it concluded. Was it a matter of
economics? Mistaken impressions? A fear that marrying would deny her the
time she needed to write? These questions helped the ending retain an
element of surprise despite having it spelled out at the beginning.
I was never quite able to forget that this was a novel, but even if the artifice didn’t entirely convince me, The Lost Memoirs of Jane Austen is an engaging read for those who enjoy Austen’s work.
Friday, February 10, 2012
Beauty and the Beast Takes a Darker Turn in Its Second Season
In the late 1980s, an unusual twist on the classic fairy tale Beauty and the Beast
came to network television. In this fantasy / crime procedural, the
Beauty was Catherine Chandler, a New York City DA's assistant played by
Linda Hamilton, and the Beast was Vincent, a soft-spoken Ron Perlman
under multiple layers of makeup. With a leonine appearance more regal
than freakish and a nearly boundless capacity for empathy, Vincent, who
lived in a gorgeous gothic underworld with his idealistic adoptive
father (Roy Dotrice) and an assortment of societal misfits, was the
show's most compelling character, and the depth of his bond with
Catherine made them one of the most romantic couples on television.
The second season of this series is, up to a certain point, much like the first. Usually, Catherine must help to solve some sort of crime, and Vincent is often on hand to offer protection from thuggish types. More often in this season, the action is focused on the underworld and its residents or former residents. We meet several characters who struggle with the decision of whether to leave the warmth and safety of this community for the opportunities afforded by the world above.
Another recurring theme is someone forming a romantic attachment to either Catherine or Vincent. Sometimes this affection is returned to some extent, sometimes not, but it always is a source of some angst as the show's central characters yearn for a perfect union of their own. Like Ned and Chuck of Pushing Daisies, they must accept from the beginning that their relationship carries with it impossible barriers; while that show deals with the impracticalities in a largely whimsical manner, this one takes a melancholy approach.
Perlman and Hamilton provide brief introductions to several episodes, and these shed some light on the creative struggle of Ron Koslow and his fellow writers to find new ways of separating Vincent and Catherine and reuniting them without the tug-of-war becoming stale. Most of my favorite episodes have this tension at the core, though I also love the ones that focus on their joint efforts to bring healing to a particularly troubled individual, such as the simpleton with a disfiguring disease brought to the underground by a former resident.
As before, several of Vincent's comrades make multiple appearances, with the earnest, mildly autistic Mouse (David Greenlee) the most prominent of the minor players. Longstanding villain Paracelsus (Tony Jay) returns with menace afresh and an unnerving ability to take on the guises of other people. Up above, we see a lot of Catherine's cheerful boss Joe (Jay Acovone), and an old boyfriend resurfaces to stir up both trouble and conflicted feelings.
I like most of the second season as much as the first. However, the last few episodes take a very dark and violent turn, and the savagery Vincent is forced to unleash as a result is most unsettling. It sets us up for a drastically different third season, so the change feels fitting but not terribly appealing. This season includes some of the show's most touching moments, including the introduction of words for the theme song in a montage in one of the last episodes, but by its end, the show has morphed from a mostly gentle exploration of an unconventional romance into something more action-heavy and tragic. I still recommend it, but if you loved the earlier episodes, you might not be thrilled with the direction the series takes.
The second season of this series is, up to a certain point, much like the first. Usually, Catherine must help to solve some sort of crime, and Vincent is often on hand to offer protection from thuggish types. More often in this season, the action is focused on the underworld and its residents or former residents. We meet several characters who struggle with the decision of whether to leave the warmth and safety of this community for the opportunities afforded by the world above.
Another recurring theme is someone forming a romantic attachment to either Catherine or Vincent. Sometimes this affection is returned to some extent, sometimes not, but it always is a source of some angst as the show's central characters yearn for a perfect union of their own. Like Ned and Chuck of Pushing Daisies, they must accept from the beginning that their relationship carries with it impossible barriers; while that show deals with the impracticalities in a largely whimsical manner, this one takes a melancholy approach.
Perlman and Hamilton provide brief introductions to several episodes, and these shed some light on the creative struggle of Ron Koslow and his fellow writers to find new ways of separating Vincent and Catherine and reuniting them without the tug-of-war becoming stale. Most of my favorite episodes have this tension at the core, though I also love the ones that focus on their joint efforts to bring healing to a particularly troubled individual, such as the simpleton with a disfiguring disease brought to the underground by a former resident.
As before, several of Vincent's comrades make multiple appearances, with the earnest, mildly autistic Mouse (David Greenlee) the most prominent of the minor players. Longstanding villain Paracelsus (Tony Jay) returns with menace afresh and an unnerving ability to take on the guises of other people. Up above, we see a lot of Catherine's cheerful boss Joe (Jay Acovone), and an old boyfriend resurfaces to stir up both trouble and conflicted feelings.
I like most of the second season as much as the first. However, the last few episodes take a very dark and violent turn, and the savagery Vincent is forced to unleash as a result is most unsettling. It sets us up for a drastically different third season, so the change feels fitting but not terribly appealing. This season includes some of the show's most touching moments, including the introduction of words for the theme song in a montage in one of the last episodes, but by its end, the show has morphed from a mostly gentle exploration of an unconventional romance into something more action-heavy and tragic. I still recommend it, but if you loved the earlier episodes, you might not be thrilled with the direction the series takes.
Monday, February 6, 2012
Get to Know Yourself and Others With David Keirsey's Please Understand Me II
“I’m looking for space, and to find out who I am. And I’m looking
to know and understand…” This plaintive lyric from John Denver has long
been a personal anthem for me, a soul searcher perpetually striving to
figure out who I am at the core and what my purpose in life is. It was
with this in mind that I took the Keirsey Temperament Sorter a while
back. The resulting assortment of letters did not surprise me, as I’d
taken the similar Myers-Briggs Type Indicator before and come out the
same way, but I was taken aback by the extensive type description, most
of which I felt I could have written describing myself. This intrigued
me enough to consult the library card catalog and take out Please Understand Me II, Keirsey’s book that divides the 16 personality types into four distinct temperament groups. It made for fascinating reading.
David Keirsey devotes one chapter with many sub-sections to each of the four temperaments, and this is the meat of the book, with about 40 pages per temperament, though surrounding chapters delve into specific issues like romantic pairing and parenting and leadership styles. This muddles the structure of the book a bit; I think with a little reorganization it could have simply been broken up into four parts, with each part having several chapters, and it might have flowed a little more naturally. However, perhaps Keirsey was hoping that if some chapters dealt with all four of the temperaments, readers would be less likely to simply skip to the part that applies to their type.
The book opens with the Temperament Sorter and instructions on how to score it, so anyone who picks up Please Understand Me II without knowing his or her personality type can find out fairly easily. Granted, it’s an imperfect test, and some of the questions are phrased rather strangely, so it’s possible you won’t end up with the most accurate possible result. Still, it will at least give you something to keep an eye out for, and as you read you can debate whether you think the test got it right.
It can also be fun to get friends to take the test or to try to guess at their type based on whether they are more Introverted or Extroverted, more iNtuitive or Sense-oriented, more Thinking or Feeling, and more Perceiving or Judging. Keirsey is an able writer; his descriptions are enjoyable, and he jazzes them up with anecdotes and quotes from people he identifies as having a particular temperament or personality type. It’s more interesting to read each section with particular people in mind, though.
Keirsey’s goal in presenting this information is to convince people that what is normal for one is not necessarily normal for another and that instead of trying to force “Pygmalion Projects” on each other, trying to make others conform to a particular way of thinking or behaving, we should accept each other’s differences and think of the strengths that people of each type bring to the table. My most cherished fictional worlds, from Winnie the Pooh and M*A*S*H to Lord of the Rings, LOST and, most recently, Trixie Belden, celebrate this type of cooperative spirit, so I was very much in agreement with Keirsey’s aims.
The four temperaments he defines are the Sensing-Perceiving Artisans, the Sensing-Judging Guardians, the Intuitive-Feeling Idealists and the Intuitive-Thinking Rationals. Each temperament is further broken down into proactive and reactive pairs, made up of one expressive type and one attentive type. Within each temperament, Keirsey goes through a checklist of attributes that people in this group will typically share. Each section includes a graph that lists 29 different descriptions across seven categories: language, intellect, interest, orientation, self-image, value and social role.
For instance, Keirsey says that Artisans derive their self-esteem from being artistic, Guardians from being dependable, Idealists from being empathic and Rationals from being ingenious. Another characteristic comparison I found interesting was what people yearn for: impact for Artisans, belonging for Guardians, romance for Idealists and achievement for Rationals. Looking it all over at a glance without reading the sub-sections doesn’t mean a whole lot; it’s just a big information dump. But once you’ve read each section, it’s a handy little resource that makes it easier to differentiate among the temperaments.
After the main overview, each chapter includes a breakdown of the four role variants for each temperament. Each type has its own set of particular attributes and a positive one-word descriptive title. Artisans include Promoters (ESTP), Crafters (ISTP), Performers (ESFP) and Composers (ISFP); Guardians include Supervisors (ESTJ), Inspectors (ISTJ), Providers (ESFJ) and Protectors (ISFJ); Rationals include Fieldmarshals (ENTJ), Masterminds (INTJ), Inventors (ENTP) and Architects (INTP). The chapter that interested me most was the one dealing with Idealists, since that is my temperament. This group includes Teachers (ENFJ), Counselors (INFJ), Champions (ENFP) and Healers (INFP).
With few exceptions, I found the commentary on Idealists in general and Healers in particular to be right on target for me, and reading up on the other types and temperaments gave me a better idea of how differently people approach things and how conflicts might be avoided if these varied perspectives were embraced and allowed to complement each other. Granted, two of the Healer’s most definitive qualities are wanting authenticity for themselves and others and wanting to restore unity in the midst of divisions, so he’s preaching to the choir with me, but I think that anyone could find value in Keirsey’s invitation to understand each other’s perspectives more clearly.
Several years earlier, Keirsey published Please Understand Me, which I haven’t read, so I can’t comment on the extent to which this is either a worthy follow-up to or replacement of that book, but as a stand-alone read, it strikes me as very helpful. The four main chapters are organized in exactly the same way, so it’s very easy to skip around and compare and contrast. I didn’t read this book in a very linear fashion myself. While the writing is good, too much at once gets a little dry, and of course within every person are infinite variations, and not everyone will fit neatly into a particular type or temperament. Still, Keirsey’s style is generally engaging, and the categorizations all seem very well thought out. Someone who knows more about psychology than I do would be better qualified to comment on the book’s accuracy and practical applications, but for me, it was an eye-opening and heartening read.
David Keirsey devotes one chapter with many sub-sections to each of the four temperaments, and this is the meat of the book, with about 40 pages per temperament, though surrounding chapters delve into specific issues like romantic pairing and parenting and leadership styles. This muddles the structure of the book a bit; I think with a little reorganization it could have simply been broken up into four parts, with each part having several chapters, and it might have flowed a little more naturally. However, perhaps Keirsey was hoping that if some chapters dealt with all four of the temperaments, readers would be less likely to simply skip to the part that applies to their type.
The book opens with the Temperament Sorter and instructions on how to score it, so anyone who picks up Please Understand Me II without knowing his or her personality type can find out fairly easily. Granted, it’s an imperfect test, and some of the questions are phrased rather strangely, so it’s possible you won’t end up with the most accurate possible result. Still, it will at least give you something to keep an eye out for, and as you read you can debate whether you think the test got it right.
It can also be fun to get friends to take the test or to try to guess at their type based on whether they are more Introverted or Extroverted, more iNtuitive or Sense-oriented, more Thinking or Feeling, and more Perceiving or Judging. Keirsey is an able writer; his descriptions are enjoyable, and he jazzes them up with anecdotes and quotes from people he identifies as having a particular temperament or personality type. It’s more interesting to read each section with particular people in mind, though.
Keirsey’s goal in presenting this information is to convince people that what is normal for one is not necessarily normal for another and that instead of trying to force “Pygmalion Projects” on each other, trying to make others conform to a particular way of thinking or behaving, we should accept each other’s differences and think of the strengths that people of each type bring to the table. My most cherished fictional worlds, from Winnie the Pooh and M*A*S*H to Lord of the Rings, LOST and, most recently, Trixie Belden, celebrate this type of cooperative spirit, so I was very much in agreement with Keirsey’s aims.
The four temperaments he defines are the Sensing-Perceiving Artisans, the Sensing-Judging Guardians, the Intuitive-Feeling Idealists and the Intuitive-Thinking Rationals. Each temperament is further broken down into proactive and reactive pairs, made up of one expressive type and one attentive type. Within each temperament, Keirsey goes through a checklist of attributes that people in this group will typically share. Each section includes a graph that lists 29 different descriptions across seven categories: language, intellect, interest, orientation, self-image, value and social role.
For instance, Keirsey says that Artisans derive their self-esteem from being artistic, Guardians from being dependable, Idealists from being empathic and Rationals from being ingenious. Another characteristic comparison I found interesting was what people yearn for: impact for Artisans, belonging for Guardians, romance for Idealists and achievement for Rationals. Looking it all over at a glance without reading the sub-sections doesn’t mean a whole lot; it’s just a big information dump. But once you’ve read each section, it’s a handy little resource that makes it easier to differentiate among the temperaments.
After the main overview, each chapter includes a breakdown of the four role variants for each temperament. Each type has its own set of particular attributes and a positive one-word descriptive title. Artisans include Promoters (ESTP), Crafters (ISTP), Performers (ESFP) and Composers (ISFP); Guardians include Supervisors (ESTJ), Inspectors (ISTJ), Providers (ESFJ) and Protectors (ISFJ); Rationals include Fieldmarshals (ENTJ), Masterminds (INTJ), Inventors (ENTP) and Architects (INTP). The chapter that interested me most was the one dealing with Idealists, since that is my temperament. This group includes Teachers (ENFJ), Counselors (INFJ), Champions (ENFP) and Healers (INFP).
With few exceptions, I found the commentary on Idealists in general and Healers in particular to be right on target for me, and reading up on the other types and temperaments gave me a better idea of how differently people approach things and how conflicts might be avoided if these varied perspectives were embraced and allowed to complement each other. Granted, two of the Healer’s most definitive qualities are wanting authenticity for themselves and others and wanting to restore unity in the midst of divisions, so he’s preaching to the choir with me, but I think that anyone could find value in Keirsey’s invitation to understand each other’s perspectives more clearly.
Several years earlier, Keirsey published Please Understand Me, which I haven’t read, so I can’t comment on the extent to which this is either a worthy follow-up to or replacement of that book, but as a stand-alone read, it strikes me as very helpful. The four main chapters are organized in exactly the same way, so it’s very easy to skip around and compare and contrast. I didn’t read this book in a very linear fashion myself. While the writing is good, too much at once gets a little dry, and of course within every person are infinite variations, and not everyone will fit neatly into a particular type or temperament. Still, Keirsey’s style is generally engaging, and the categorizations all seem very well thought out. Someone who knows more about psychology than I do would be better qualified to comment on the book’s accuracy and practical applications, but for me, it was an eye-opening and heartening read.
Thursday, February 2, 2012
A Mother and Son Rediscover Each Other in An Irish Christmas
It’s no secret to anyone who knows me how much I love Ireland. My
Swedish grandma sometimes teases me about this, but when she happened
upon Melody Carlson’s An Irish Christmas, she snatched it up for
me, as she figured it was definitely my kind of book. I read it over
Christmas vacation, and I would generally have to agree.
This novel, written by prolific Christian author Melody Carlson, focuses on Colleen, a middle-aged widow, and her son Jamie. A rift has grown between her and her free-spirited son, who, feeling stifled by the expectation that he would take over the family shoe business, has been pursuing music in secret. Colleen has a secret of her own, and she wants to share it with Jamie on a Christmas trip to Ireland. Each has been hurt by the other’s lack of consideration in the past but is afraid of hurting the other with the information that has been held back for so long.
The majority of the book takes place in various tiny towns in Ireland, so the setting appealed to me very much. My appreciation for it was increased by the fact that it is the early 1960s, which has always been a time period of particular interest for me. One of the defining events of the book is the Kennedy assassination, and the looming Vietnam War makes Colleen very fearful of Jamie’s professed intention to join the armed forces. The 60s, along with the 70s, are my favorite period in popular music, and there is some mention of a couple favorite groups, but for the most part, the focus is on a style rather than particular individuals.
Carlson uses alternating chapters to tell her story, with Jamie narrating half and Colleen the other half. Colleen’s chapters feel more natural, perhaps because her perspective is closer to the author’s. Carlson does have a tendency to overuse certain words, such as “groovy,” and phrases, like “it seems to be the case,” and this can give her writing a bit of a clunky feel at times. The prose is generally more utilitarian than artful, but there are times when she seems to get caught up in the beauty of the Irish surroundings and the words on the page reflect that loveliness very well.
This is an uplifting story that relies a little heavily on coincidence, with some people very conveniently being in the right place at the right time, but then she seems to be going for a slightly magical feel here and I think it works. Jamie’s tumultuous feelings about the path he would like his life to take and Colleen’s guilt and regret about decisions in her past ring true and set the stage for reconciliation and self-discovery. If you wish you could spend a couple weeks on an Irish getaway, An Irish Christmas makes for a nice holiday in your head.
This novel, written by prolific Christian author Melody Carlson, focuses on Colleen, a middle-aged widow, and her son Jamie. A rift has grown between her and her free-spirited son, who, feeling stifled by the expectation that he would take over the family shoe business, has been pursuing music in secret. Colleen has a secret of her own, and she wants to share it with Jamie on a Christmas trip to Ireland. Each has been hurt by the other’s lack of consideration in the past but is afraid of hurting the other with the information that has been held back for so long.
The majority of the book takes place in various tiny towns in Ireland, so the setting appealed to me very much. My appreciation for it was increased by the fact that it is the early 1960s, which has always been a time period of particular interest for me. One of the defining events of the book is the Kennedy assassination, and the looming Vietnam War makes Colleen very fearful of Jamie’s professed intention to join the armed forces. The 60s, along with the 70s, are my favorite period in popular music, and there is some mention of a couple favorite groups, but for the most part, the focus is on a style rather than particular individuals.
Carlson uses alternating chapters to tell her story, with Jamie narrating half and Colleen the other half. Colleen’s chapters feel more natural, perhaps because her perspective is closer to the author’s. Carlson does have a tendency to overuse certain words, such as “groovy,” and phrases, like “it seems to be the case,” and this can give her writing a bit of a clunky feel at times. The prose is generally more utilitarian than artful, but there are times when she seems to get caught up in the beauty of the Irish surroundings and the words on the page reflect that loveliness very well.
This is an uplifting story that relies a little heavily on coincidence, with some people very conveniently being in the right place at the right time, but then she seems to be going for a slightly magical feel here and I think it works. Jamie’s tumultuous feelings about the path he would like his life to take and Colleen’s guilt and regret about decisions in her past ring true and set the stage for reconciliation and self-discovery. If you wish you could spend a couple weeks on an Irish getaway, An Irish Christmas makes for a nice holiday in your head.
Return to a Simpler Time With Season Two of Little House on the Prairie
A while back, my friend lent me some seasons of Little House on the Prairie
as comfort viewing for my mom as she was recovering from hip surgery.
It’s a wonderful show to lose yourself in, a reminder of a time when
life was simultaneously simpler and more difficult. Granted, the vision
of Michael Landon and others cast a rosier glow on some aspects of
pioneer life and also gave it a more contemporary feel than the original
Laura Ingalls Wilder stories. Nonetheless, it’s the sort of feel-good,
wholesome show that grandparents love and kids don’t mind watching
because there’s always so much mischief for youngsters to get into.
The second season is much like the first, focusing largely on the Ingalls family, especially demure Mary (Melissa Sue Anderson) and spunky Laura (Melissa Gilbert). Several of my favorite episodes involve Laura’s open-hearted and rather tomboyish tendencies, which lead her to form strong bonds with lonely bachelors. I especially love Ebenezer Sprague, in which Laura befriends the crotchety title character at the fishing hole, having no idea that he is the miserly new banker who is currently the least popular man in town. This episode exemplifies the warmth, humor and optimistic spirit that pervades the series.
Many episodes involve school-day trials, such as Mary and Laura’s ill-advised attempts at Sunday school fundraising or the class project that results in the pesky Olesons tagging along on the Ingalls’ camping trip. Long-suffering shopkeeper Nels (Richard Bull) is particularly easy to sympathize with here as his wife and children do their best to drive everyone batty, though his bratty daughter’s worst moment comes in The Talking Machine, when she tricks Laura into a public confession of a crush.
While those episodes are largely light-hearted, some have a more somber tone to them. Centennial reminded me of the Occupy movement as heavy taxes have the Walnut Grove residents up in arms – until a humble immigrant forced out of his new home due to the previous owner’s back taxes gives them a new perspective. The most emotional episode is the two-parter Remember Me, which was of particular interest to me because it was excerpted in the final season of LOST. A dying woman appoints Charles (Landon) to find a suitable future home for her children, an act that throws one of Walnut Grove’s most colorful residents into turmoil as he finds himself growing attached to them.
The second season contains 22 episodes in all, and each one is enjoyable. The show focuses almost equally upon the children and adults in this tight-knit community, so it really is a show the whole family can enjoy together, with different aspects standing out to different viewers. Additionally, the series is episodic enough that there’s no disadvantage to starting with this season instead of the first. No matter where you begin, once you’ve fallen in love with the characters, Walnut Grove is a place to which you will want to return.
The second season is much like the first, focusing largely on the Ingalls family, especially demure Mary (Melissa Sue Anderson) and spunky Laura (Melissa Gilbert). Several of my favorite episodes involve Laura’s open-hearted and rather tomboyish tendencies, which lead her to form strong bonds with lonely bachelors. I especially love Ebenezer Sprague, in which Laura befriends the crotchety title character at the fishing hole, having no idea that he is the miserly new banker who is currently the least popular man in town. This episode exemplifies the warmth, humor and optimistic spirit that pervades the series.
Many episodes involve school-day trials, such as Mary and Laura’s ill-advised attempts at Sunday school fundraising or the class project that results in the pesky Olesons tagging along on the Ingalls’ camping trip. Long-suffering shopkeeper Nels (Richard Bull) is particularly easy to sympathize with here as his wife and children do their best to drive everyone batty, though his bratty daughter’s worst moment comes in The Talking Machine, when she tricks Laura into a public confession of a crush.
While those episodes are largely light-hearted, some have a more somber tone to them. Centennial reminded me of the Occupy movement as heavy taxes have the Walnut Grove residents up in arms – until a humble immigrant forced out of his new home due to the previous owner’s back taxes gives them a new perspective. The most emotional episode is the two-parter Remember Me, which was of particular interest to me because it was excerpted in the final season of LOST. A dying woman appoints Charles (Landon) to find a suitable future home for her children, an act that throws one of Walnut Grove’s most colorful residents into turmoil as he finds himself growing attached to them.
The second season contains 22 episodes in all, and each one is enjoyable. The show focuses almost equally upon the children and adults in this tight-knit community, so it really is a show the whole family can enjoy together, with different aspects standing out to different viewers. Additionally, the series is episodic enough that there’s no disadvantage to starting with this season instead of the first. No matter where you begin, once you’ve fallen in love with the characters, Walnut Grove is a place to which you will want to return.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Jerry Seinfeld Spreads His Wings in Bee Movie
I am not especially fond of bees. While I am not allergic, I was stung
several times as a youngster, and I did not like it. In fact, I
developed such a strong aversion to bees that for a time, I was
half-afraid to step out the front door in the summer. I suppose that may
be one reason I never got around to seeing Bee Movie, the 2007
computer-animated comedy featuring the voice talents of Jerry Seinfeld
and Renee Zellweger, but I did finally catch it this week. While it had
its entertaining moments, generally I don’t think I was missing too
much.
Seinfeld, who co-wrote the movie, stars as Barry B. Benson, a young bee about to settle into the job that will be his for the rest of his life. Barry doesn’t much like this idea, so he flees the restrictive hive and immerses himself in the frightening whirlwind that is the world of humans. While on his excursion, he befriends sweet-natured florist Vanessa Bloome (Zellweger) after she rescues him from her aggressive husband Ken (the always-funny Patrick Warburton).
This is just the tip of the iceberg as far as familiar names go; the voice cast is loaded with A-listers, including Matthew Broderick, John Goodman, Chris Rock, Kathy Bates and Oprah Winfrey. Some, including Sting, Ray Liotta and Larry King, play versions of themselves, and these spoofs are among the movie’s funnier moments. In fact, generally speaking, the scenes that made me laugh most involved either celebrities lampooning themselves or tributes to famous moments in classic films. My favorite: Barry getting the third degree from his parents as he lounges in the pool a la The Graduate.
The story reminded me a bit of The Giver and other such tales where one member of a seemingly perfect society starts to wonder if conformity is really the best option. The movie whacks the message about the value of individuality and bee-ing yourself over the audience’s head in much the same way that Ken keeps trying to whap Barry with a magazine. It’s heavy-handed, and the constant barrage of adding “bee” to the beginning of words gets a little old. Some good puns can be found, but most of them don’t deliver much of a punch.
The sweetest element of the movie (aside from the honey that is such an important part of the plot) is the friendship that develops between Barry and Vanessa, both oddballs who are tired of feeling disenfranchised. Their partnership leads the tale to its exciting climax, which pays homage to the wackiness that is Airplane!. It’s all pretty absurd, even more so because you sort of get the sense sometimes that the writers and directors are taking the movie more seriously than they should. Still, it’s rather fun to see the world from a bee’s-eye view, if only for an hour and a half.
Seinfeld, who co-wrote the movie, stars as Barry B. Benson, a young bee about to settle into the job that will be his for the rest of his life. Barry doesn’t much like this idea, so he flees the restrictive hive and immerses himself in the frightening whirlwind that is the world of humans. While on his excursion, he befriends sweet-natured florist Vanessa Bloome (Zellweger) after she rescues him from her aggressive husband Ken (the always-funny Patrick Warburton).
This is just the tip of the iceberg as far as familiar names go; the voice cast is loaded with A-listers, including Matthew Broderick, John Goodman, Chris Rock, Kathy Bates and Oprah Winfrey. Some, including Sting, Ray Liotta and Larry King, play versions of themselves, and these spoofs are among the movie’s funnier moments. In fact, generally speaking, the scenes that made me laugh most involved either celebrities lampooning themselves or tributes to famous moments in classic films. My favorite: Barry getting the third degree from his parents as he lounges in the pool a la The Graduate.
The story reminded me a bit of The Giver and other such tales where one member of a seemingly perfect society starts to wonder if conformity is really the best option. The movie whacks the message about the value of individuality and bee-ing yourself over the audience’s head in much the same way that Ken keeps trying to whap Barry with a magazine. It’s heavy-handed, and the constant barrage of adding “bee” to the beginning of words gets a little old. Some good puns can be found, but most of them don’t deliver much of a punch.
The sweetest element of the movie (aside from the honey that is such an important part of the plot) is the friendship that develops between Barry and Vanessa, both oddballs who are tired of feeling disenfranchised. Their partnership leads the tale to its exciting climax, which pays homage to the wackiness that is Airplane!. It’s all pretty absurd, even more so because you sort of get the sense sometimes that the writers and directors are taking the movie more seriously than they should. Still, it’s rather fun to see the world from a bee’s-eye view, if only for an hour and a half.
Friday, January 20, 2012
LOST's "Other Man" Joins Newcomer Brit Marling in Another Earth
On the CBS sit-com The Big Bang Theory, theoretical physicist Sheldon Cooper often speculates about the possible existence of multiple universes, each containing a different version of himself. In the quiet 2011 movie Another Earth, written and directed by Mike Cahill and co-written and starring Brit Marling, one of those universes is startlingly close. Another Earth has appeared on the horizon, and when contact is finally achieved, it becomes apparent that everyone on that planet is a duplicate of everyone on this one, complete with the same experiences up to a certain point. What does such a thing mean for the world? More to the point, what does it mean for one young woman still reeling from the most horrible moment of her life and someone else’s?
Marling is Rhoda, an astrogeek who, distracted by the discovery of the other Earth as announced on the car radio, causes a fatal crash that kills a pregnant woman and her young son. Husband and father John (William Mapother) is badly injured and languishes in a coma for several weeks before returning home to live in squalor. Teenage Rhoda stands trial and heads off to prison. Four years later, she gets out. The new planet is much closer now – close enough that one wealthy man is launching an expedition to it, and his essay contest could secure her a spot on his spacecraft. She would like nothing better than to leave all this misery behind her.
In the meantime, though, she needs a reason to keep on going, and she finds it when she returns to the crash site and sees John there. She goes to his home, intending to apologize, but loses nerve and instead tries to pass herself off as a cleaning service offering a free trial. He accepts – and then asks her to return to continue her work, this time for payment. As she scrubs away at four years of accumulated grime, John begins to come out of his stupor and embrace life again. But what will happen when she finally comes clean about who she is?
This was an interesting movie and not really what I expected. I thought it would be something very strongly in the realm of science fiction, but the alternate Earth is more a catalyst for rumination than a central focus. Yes, it’s always looming in the background. But there were long stretches when I almost forgot it was there at all. It’s an integral part of the movie, but the story is more directly about how these two people begin to heal from a terrible calamity.
Marling, a young actress with few credits to her name, carries herself with a haunted fragility. She is soft-spoken – when she speaks at all – and despite the darkness of her past and the ease with which she fabricates a new persona, there is also a definite innocence about her. I’d never encountered her before, but she impressed me.
Mapother was a pleasant surprise, as I mostly know him from LOST, where he plays Ethan Rom, one of the first truly villainous characters to surface on the show. Upon closer inspection, though, the two characters are not so drastically different. Both have grown haggard and hardened after the death of a wife and child. Unlike Ethan, however, John is defiantly nonviolent. Still, Mapother makes the pent-up aggression simmering below the surface dangerously apparent.
This feels like a low-budget indie, with somewhat jerky camera work and not much in the way of special effects. They aren’t needed, as this is a cerebral movie in which all the story is in the build-up. What actually happens once that fateful shuttle to the stars blasts off is left largely to the imagination. While I had a very clear interpretation of the film’s final moments, the friend I watched it with didn’t agree with my conclusions at all. It really is an open-ended finale that could inspire almost as much debate among friends as Inception. This movie is far less likely to make your brain hurt, however. As long as you don’t go into it hoping for an Independence Day-style alien invasion adventure, this pensive film has a lot to offer.
A Beloved TV Dad Offers Advice on Fatherhood
My all-time favorite family sit-com is The Cosby Show, and from a very early age, I thought of Bill Cosby as the quintessential TV dad. Hence, when I happened upon his book Fatherhood
at my grandma’s house, I was curious to read it. The book had been
given to my grandpa as a gift shortly after it was published in May of
1987, two years before his death. I was only eight at the time, but I
knew him long enough to be well aware of what a great dad he was, and I
can attest that he raised three great dads as well.
Cosby’s book is part memoir and part parenting manual, all infused with the zingy humor with which he has delighted fans for decades. There are definite moments of warmth, but mostly it’s curmudgeonly comedy as he grumbles over the crazy things kids do – and remarks on how crazy parents are to sign on for it. Along with his own show, reading his book largely reminded me of two of my favorite comic strips, Baby Blues, which covers the trials of toddlerhood, and Zits, which focuses on the frustration of being – and raising – a teenager.
It seems that nothing in the realm of parenting has changed much since Cosby wrote this book. Some of the scenarios he describes have played out in very much the same way in the funny pages lately. I particularly thought of Jeremy Duncan and his hapless parents when I read Cosby’s diatribe against the high volume and low class of the music he hears blasting out of his teen’s stereo.
Fatherhood is divided into sections and proceeds in roughly chronological order from pre-parenthood to having an empty nest. Within each chapter, however, he jumps back and forth a bit. The book is largely a series of brief anecdotes and reflections, making it ideal for reading a little bit at a time. A good stopping point is likely to come along every couple of pages.
It’s clear every step of the way that Bill Cosby is passionate about parenting. He acknowledges that it’s hard work and takes parents to task for not being willing to invest their time in this all-important relationship with their children. He advocates a hands-on fathering style of nurturing children and having fun with them while also holding them accountable and helping them mature into responsible young adults. There’s plenty of good advice by example, and sometimes negative example, within these pages.
The book begins and ends with some reflections by Alvin F. Poussaint, a Harvard psychiatrist. While I read everything he had to say, I found his remarks pretty dull and overly academic. I guess they put the book into a useful context by commenting on how Cosby’s approach differs from that of many fathers in generations that preceded him, but it’s certainly not as engaging as the main text.
At under 200 pages, with lots of paragraph breaks, Fatherhood is a quick read. I got through it in an afternoon, and I’m a pretty slow reader. I laughed my way through much of it, and it made me want to watch The Cosby Show again as soon as possible and reminded me how lucky I am to have a dad who is equally devoted to his children.
Cosby’s book is part memoir and part parenting manual, all infused with the zingy humor with which he has delighted fans for decades. There are definite moments of warmth, but mostly it’s curmudgeonly comedy as he grumbles over the crazy things kids do – and remarks on how crazy parents are to sign on for it. Along with his own show, reading his book largely reminded me of two of my favorite comic strips, Baby Blues, which covers the trials of toddlerhood, and Zits, which focuses on the frustration of being – and raising – a teenager.
It seems that nothing in the realm of parenting has changed much since Cosby wrote this book. Some of the scenarios he describes have played out in very much the same way in the funny pages lately. I particularly thought of Jeremy Duncan and his hapless parents when I read Cosby’s diatribe against the high volume and low class of the music he hears blasting out of his teen’s stereo.
Fatherhood is divided into sections and proceeds in roughly chronological order from pre-parenthood to having an empty nest. Within each chapter, however, he jumps back and forth a bit. The book is largely a series of brief anecdotes and reflections, making it ideal for reading a little bit at a time. A good stopping point is likely to come along every couple of pages.
It’s clear every step of the way that Bill Cosby is passionate about parenting. He acknowledges that it’s hard work and takes parents to task for not being willing to invest their time in this all-important relationship with their children. He advocates a hands-on fathering style of nurturing children and having fun with them while also holding them accountable and helping them mature into responsible young adults. There’s plenty of good advice by example, and sometimes negative example, within these pages.
The book begins and ends with some reflections by Alvin F. Poussaint, a Harvard psychiatrist. While I read everything he had to say, I found his remarks pretty dull and overly academic. I guess they put the book into a useful context by commenting on how Cosby’s approach differs from that of many fathers in generations that preceded him, but it’s certainly not as engaging as the main text.
At under 200 pages, with lots of paragraph breaks, Fatherhood is a quick read. I got through it in an afternoon, and I’m a pretty slow reader. I laughed my way through much of it, and it made me want to watch The Cosby Show again as soon as possible and reminded me how lucky I am to have a dad who is equally devoted to his children.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
Even Without Sunglasses, Snoopy Makes a Mega-Cool Guitarist
Snoopy has got to be just about the most accomplished fictional dog out
there. He’s a flying ace. He writes novels. (Granted, they’re fine
fireplace fodder, but how many dogs do you know who can type?) His list
of unusual skills goes on and on, so it’s not much of a stretch to
imagine him playing a musical instrument. In fact, the Peanuts Wireless
Band simply would not feel complete if, say, Linus was there in his
place. Snoopy is the life of every party, so of course he has to be on
hand to play the guitar.
Snoopy is one of four figures in this 2011 Hallmark set that was released one piece at a time between October and December. Snoopy was the last to arrive, perhaps because he is the most popular and Hallmark figured that if he came out first, people might just buy him and not bother with the others. But even if you love Snoopy twice as much as any other character, you’re missing a whole lot of the fun if you only buy one figure. What’s really great about these is the way that they interact with each other.
Press a button on one of them, and after a short time of solo playing, the other figures join in the music, providing harmonies. Among the four figures, there are eight songs, so Snoopy plays back-up guitar for six but takes the lead for two. Of course, a flip of the switch on the bottom of the figure can turn it off, so if you’d rather just hear Snoopy by himself, you can do that. You can also turn off one or two of the other figures to provide a different sound. It’s fun to experiment with different sound patterns; another interesting variable is location, as putting them all in the same place provides a different effect than scattering them around the room.
Snoopy stands on a dark brown platform with a light brown top that resembles a wooden floor. This platform is about three inches wide, three and a half inches long and an inch high. On the platform is a red speaker, and on top of this is Snoopy, who’s rockin’ out - and back and forth - with a green electric guitar in his paws. He also wears a red coat with a matching Santa hat and a green scarf. Like Schroeder, Snoopy is smiling. He doesn’t seem to be stressed out in the least by the task before him. It seems he should be wearing sunglasses; his Joe Cool persona would mesh nicely with this confident musician. But shades or not, he’s looking sharp.
Snoopy’s two songs are Jolly Old St. Nicholas and Silent Night, one of only two religious songs in the repertoire. None of the other characters particularly stands out to me in relation to Snoopy; they all seem to respond to him equally well. This fellow gave me a problem when I first got him; he was a little bit too independent to make a successful band member. When Charlie Brown or Lucy began to play, it was anyone’s guess whether he would join in, and he flat-out refused to accompany Schroeder. A few times, halfway into a performance by the trio, he would launch into a completely different song. Cacophony! But we went back to Hallmark and switched him, and the new and improved Snoopy is a much better team player.
I got Snoopy for $14.95, the same price as the other figures, though technically they were priced at $29.95, and the reduced price was a consequence of buying something else at the same time. If you’re lucky enough to find any at a local Hallmark store, you might even find them for less than that, but they’re also going for considerably more online. Each comes with three AAA batteries, and while you’ll have to replace them eventually, they lasted a season in my house with no problems. I’m sure these figures will make sweet music together for years to come, so it is only right that Snoopy should be a part of a new Christmastime staple.
Snoopy is one of four figures in this 2011 Hallmark set that was released one piece at a time between October and December. Snoopy was the last to arrive, perhaps because he is the most popular and Hallmark figured that if he came out first, people might just buy him and not bother with the others. But even if you love Snoopy twice as much as any other character, you’re missing a whole lot of the fun if you only buy one figure. What’s really great about these is the way that they interact with each other.
Press a button on one of them, and after a short time of solo playing, the other figures join in the music, providing harmonies. Among the four figures, there are eight songs, so Snoopy plays back-up guitar for six but takes the lead for two. Of course, a flip of the switch on the bottom of the figure can turn it off, so if you’d rather just hear Snoopy by himself, you can do that. You can also turn off one or two of the other figures to provide a different sound. It’s fun to experiment with different sound patterns; another interesting variable is location, as putting them all in the same place provides a different effect than scattering them around the room.
Snoopy stands on a dark brown platform with a light brown top that resembles a wooden floor. This platform is about three inches wide, three and a half inches long and an inch high. On the platform is a red speaker, and on top of this is Snoopy, who’s rockin’ out - and back and forth - with a green electric guitar in his paws. He also wears a red coat with a matching Santa hat and a green scarf. Like Schroeder, Snoopy is smiling. He doesn’t seem to be stressed out in the least by the task before him. It seems he should be wearing sunglasses; his Joe Cool persona would mesh nicely with this confident musician. But shades or not, he’s looking sharp.
Snoopy’s two songs are Jolly Old St. Nicholas and Silent Night, one of only two religious songs in the repertoire. None of the other characters particularly stands out to me in relation to Snoopy; they all seem to respond to him equally well. This fellow gave me a problem when I first got him; he was a little bit too independent to make a successful band member. When Charlie Brown or Lucy began to play, it was anyone’s guess whether he would join in, and he flat-out refused to accompany Schroeder. A few times, halfway into a performance by the trio, he would launch into a completely different song. Cacophony! But we went back to Hallmark and switched him, and the new and improved Snoopy is a much better team player.
I got Snoopy for $14.95, the same price as the other figures, though technically they were priced at $29.95, and the reduced price was a consequence of buying something else at the same time. If you’re lucky enough to find any at a local Hallmark store, you might even find them for less than that, but they’re also going for considerably more online. Each comes with three AAA batteries, and while you’ll have to replace them eventually, they lasted a season in my house with no problems. I’m sure these figures will make sweet music together for years to come, so it is only right that Snoopy should be a part of a new Christmastime staple.
Friday, January 6, 2012
A More Cooperative Lucy Than Usual Shows Off Her Artistic Side
In countless Peanuts strips, we see Lucy intently watching
Schroeder as he plays the piano. While his musical ability seems to
impress her, it annoys her that he pours all of his passion into his
instrument and none into her, while he is just irritated by her constant
interruptions. Despite the intensity of Lucy’s crush, there never
seemed to be much of a spark there. But the 2011 Wireless Peanuts Band, a
four-piece set released by Hallmark in the lead-up to Christmas, puts
them on more even footing, and I daresay those two make beautiful music
together. Maybe this seemingly mellower Lucy has cause for an optimistic
outlook in her long-unrequited affections.
The band also includes Charlie Brown and Snoopy, and ideally, when you press the button on the front of the brown plastic platform on which Lucy stands, the other three will join in her song. However, because of their musical history, Schroeder is the band member whose interaction with Lucy interests me most, and of all the instruments in the band, I think his piano and her flute make the most dynamic pair. If I isolate them, turning off certain band members in order to create the impression of duets, Saxophonist Charlie Brown and flutist Lucy almost cancel each other out. Guitarist Snoopy is more defined, but it really is the flute and the piano that stand out most to me in relation to each other.
Lucy, about four inches tall, stands on a solid rectangular platform that’s about an inch high, three inches across and three and a half inches long. It’s dark brown on the bottom with a lighter brown flat top given the look of a wooden floor. She wears saddle shoes, green pants and scarf, a red coat and a traditional red Santa hat with white trim and a white ball at the tip. The expression on her face is one of intense concentration, as evidenced by the lines on either side of her eyes. Her black hair is clearly visible under her hat, and her silver flute is raised to her lips.
Each member of the band plays two different Christmas songs, so Lucy provides harmonies on six of them. Her starring role comes in O Christmas Tree and Up on the Housetop. Press the button on her platform, and one of those two songs will play. After the first phrase, whatever other band members are activated will automatically join in. It’s a pretty cool phenomenon, whether you have them situated next to each other on the piano, as I do right now, or scattered around the living room, as I did a few weeks ago. To add to the enjoyment, in addition to the music, each figure moves as well. Lucy swivels back and forth, a nice complement to the twirling that the much tinier version of her does in the 2011 Christmastime Is Here! ornament.
Lucy, like the others in this series, is one of those seasonal promotional figures that is $29.95 at regular price but $14.95 with another purchase. This is a bit silly, since I can’t imagine why anyone would pay full price, especially since “another purchase” can be something as simple as a birthday card. In any case, though, to get all four I had to cough up $60 over the course of four trips, though perhaps if you manage to find a Hallmark that still carries them now, you will find them cheaper as they clear out the Christmas clutter. When I think about the price tag on this series, I feel a tad extravagant buying it, but we’ve had so much fun with this quartet over the past couple months that I don’t care. These figures are just extremely fun, and they’re well-crafted. The three AAA batteries each one came with are still going strong, and I foresee them bringing Christmas cheer for many Decembers to come. Who knew that a lass as abrasive as Lucy could be so sweetly harmonious?
The band also includes Charlie Brown and Snoopy, and ideally, when you press the button on the front of the brown plastic platform on which Lucy stands, the other three will join in her song. However, because of their musical history, Schroeder is the band member whose interaction with Lucy interests me most, and of all the instruments in the band, I think his piano and her flute make the most dynamic pair. If I isolate them, turning off certain band members in order to create the impression of duets, Saxophonist Charlie Brown and flutist Lucy almost cancel each other out. Guitarist Snoopy is more defined, but it really is the flute and the piano that stand out most to me in relation to each other.
Lucy, about four inches tall, stands on a solid rectangular platform that’s about an inch high, three inches across and three and a half inches long. It’s dark brown on the bottom with a lighter brown flat top given the look of a wooden floor. She wears saddle shoes, green pants and scarf, a red coat and a traditional red Santa hat with white trim and a white ball at the tip. The expression on her face is one of intense concentration, as evidenced by the lines on either side of her eyes. Her black hair is clearly visible under her hat, and her silver flute is raised to her lips.
Each member of the band plays two different Christmas songs, so Lucy provides harmonies on six of them. Her starring role comes in O Christmas Tree and Up on the Housetop. Press the button on her platform, and one of those two songs will play. After the first phrase, whatever other band members are activated will automatically join in. It’s a pretty cool phenomenon, whether you have them situated next to each other on the piano, as I do right now, or scattered around the living room, as I did a few weeks ago. To add to the enjoyment, in addition to the music, each figure moves as well. Lucy swivels back and forth, a nice complement to the twirling that the much tinier version of her does in the 2011 Christmastime Is Here! ornament.
Lucy, like the others in this series, is one of those seasonal promotional figures that is $29.95 at regular price but $14.95 with another purchase. This is a bit silly, since I can’t imagine why anyone would pay full price, especially since “another purchase” can be something as simple as a birthday card. In any case, though, to get all four I had to cough up $60 over the course of four trips, though perhaps if you manage to find a Hallmark that still carries them now, you will find them cheaper as they clear out the Christmas clutter. When I think about the price tag on this series, I feel a tad extravagant buying it, but we’ve had so much fun with this quartet over the past couple months that I don’t care. These figures are just extremely fun, and they’re well-crafted. The three AAA batteries each one came with are still going strong, and I foresee them bringing Christmas cheer for many Decembers to come. Who knew that a lass as abrasive as Lucy could be so sweetly harmonious?
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