One advantage to working in a bookstore is that when new books of
interest come out, I’m among the first to know. This week, I was
surprised to see that we had a brand-new children’s book that had been
written by President Barack Obama. Naturally, it piqued my interest, and
after leafing through it, I was so mesmerized that I couldn’t resist
buying a copy for myself.
In Of Thee I Sing: A Letter to My Daughters,
Obama eloquently addresses young Sasha and Malia, lavishing tender
words of encouragement upon them and honoring 13 groundbreaking
Americans in the process. I’m guessing that 13 were chosen as an homage
to the 13 colonies, though I don’t know if that’s the case. At any rate,
this is a patriotic book that is as educational as it is heartwarming.
It’s oversized, a hardcover about a foot high, making it all the more
appropriate as a coffee table book. That really is what I imagine this
being, as a picture book by the sitting President is certainly a
conversation starter, and the illustrations are absolutely stunning.
I’ve previously encountered Loren Long, who impressed me mightily with Drummer Boy,
a sweet story about a toy drummer who is unwittingly sent on an epic
journey to points all around town before finally making his way back to
the boy who loves him. Long wrote that story as well as illustrating it,
while he also furnished pictures for an edition of Frank McCourt’s
gentle Angela and the Baby Jesus.
Long’s acrylic paintings are gorgeous, full of light and warmth and
personality. They have a very realistic quality to them, and all of the
historical figures in Of Thee I Sing are instantly recognizable to those familiar with their faces.
We also see the Obama family, save Michelle, to whom the book is
dedicated. The title page features Barack, as does the final page,
though we never get a very clear view of him; in one picture, we see the
back of his head as he watches his daughters frolic across the lawn,
while in the other, a bit of his face is visible as he stands between
his daughters, their hands clasped in his. Family dog Bo appears on the
cover and first page, and he has the back inside flap to himself. But
the girls are clearly visible throughout the book.
For most of
the book, Obama and Long follow a basic format. On the left page, we
have a simple question: “Have I told you that you are _____ ?” At the
end of that sentence, or one very similarly phrased, is a particular
admirable trait that he sees in his daughters, and he expands upon his
thoughts on the next page with lyrical reflections on how one particular
American exemplifies that quality.
Indeed, each sketch feels
like a self-contained poem, with stirring language and deliberate line
breaks. For instance, we have, “A man named Jackie Robinson played
baseball / and showed us all / how to turn fear to respect / and respect
to love. Of Helen Keller, he writes, “Though she could not see or hear,
/ she taught us to look at and listen to each other.” And Neil
Armstrong: “He watched the world from way up high / and we watched his
lunar landing leaps, / which made us brave enough / to take our own big,
bold strides.”
For Long’s part, he starts off with Malia and
Sasha on the left side against a plain white backdrop, initially joined
by a little girl with a palette and paintbrushes, as the first word
Obama explores is “creative”. On each page that follows, they are joined
by one more child who correlates to the main subject of the two-page
rumination. Meanwhile, each right-hand page features a
more-than-half-page portrait of the historical American in question.
Each is totally unique, not only faithfully representing the subject but
setting him or her in a context that powerfully illustrates the
description of his or her accomplishments.
My favorite of the
portraits is of Lakota medicine man Sitting Bull. In fact, it was this
painting that decided me on buying the book. Reminiscent of the style of
Bev Doolittle, the picture is immediately recognizable as the somber
face on the 28-cent postage stamp released in 1989. And yet it’s not a
face, it’s a landscape. Or rather, it’s both. The rugged western terrain
serves as the backdrop for his craggy face, with grazing horses
accentuating the cheekbones and a pair of buffalo underneath windblown
trees standing in for his eyes. Arresting. So is the portrait of Maya
Lin, whose face is merely seen reflected in the Vietnam Veterans
Memorial she designed, and there’s a sense of wonder and enchantment in
the sight of a disheveled Albert Einstein standing under the stars,
pencil in one hand and paper in the other, his hair ruffled by a gentle
breeze.
Some of the entries are no-brainers: George Washington, Martin Luther King, Jr. and, of course, my birthday buddy, Abraham Lincoln.
Others caught me more by surprise: painter Georgia O’Keeffe, singer
Billie Holiday, humanitarian Jane Addams, activist Cesar Chavez. But
each figure is treated as someone with important lessons to teach the
future generations of children depicted, along with youths of the past,
on a two-page spread that shows the incredible diversity of cultures and
interests at play in America.
Of Thee I Sing is a book
that aims to inspire greatness by showing today’s children how many
different ways there are to make an impact. It celebrates “People who
have made bright lights shine / by sharing their unique gifts / and
giving us the courage to lift one another up, / to keep up the fight, /
to work and build upon all that is good / in our nation.” Obama never
mentions his presidency in the book, nor do the illustrations allude to
it; this is just an American dad with a solid grasp of history passing
some words of wisdom along to his daughters. His parting thought? “And
have I told you that I love you?”
Have I told you that I love this book?
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Tigger's New Toy Saves the Day in Winnie the Pooh and the Toy Airplane
The Hundred-Acre Wood is a very low-tech kind of place. To borrow from
Bilbo Baggins, “life in the [Wood] goes on, very much as it has this
past Age... full of its own comings and goings, with change coming
slowly, if it comes at all.” So I was a bit surprised when I stumbled
upon Winnie the Pooh and the Toy Airplane, a Golden book written by Joan Phillips and illustrated by Bill Langley and Russell Schroeder.
This book features just four characters: Pooh, Piglet, Tigger and Roo. Considering Tigger’s general state of hyperness, it makes sense that he is the one with a fancy new toy to show off. It’s a rather handsome toy, and apparently it’s functional, though you sure wouldn’t know it to look at it. I could see how you might be able to toss it and possibly watch it soar for a while after being caught in a breeze, but there’s more to it than that. The thing actually flies. And when an especially small someone is in the pilot’s seat, steering is evidently a cinch.
So we have an airplane, which in and of itself seems rather out of place in such a low-tech landscape, and it’s apparently a very sophisticated piece of equipment. That makes for a rather odd premise. Meanwhile, Tigger and plane alike vanish from the story for a while, which seems a little strange. But this is what leads to Pooh, Piglet and Roo going pebble-hunting and Roo getting himself swept away by the creek, necessitating heroics after Tigger magically reappears to announce that the only way to save Roo is by flying over to him and picking him up, and the only one small enough to manage it is Piglet, who wants nothing to do with the plane. It would seem that the three who remain on the shore are not swimmers; that strikes me the more practical way to pull off a water rescue...
The writing style is extremely simple. A small circle in the corner identifies this as “A Golden Very Easy Reader,” and we’re definitely talking beginners here. Most of the sentences are quite short, and the same words come up multiple times throughout the book. Aside from the character names, we get five uses of the word “toy,” six uses of “look,” eight uses of “Oh, my” and thirteen uses of “fly” or “flying,” The repetition helps to make reading easier, though it may make the story a little dull for older readers.
Although it was published in 1990, the book has a rather flat look to it that makes it seem older. For the most part, there’s no shading to the characters, with only some shadows and color variation in the background, particularly on the grass. Still, the characters are faithful representations, and aside from the jarring blue plane, which could have used an extra detail or two - such as any indication of a steering mechanism - everything looks as it should for the Hundred-Acre Wood.
I still consider this easy reader, which I think I picked up at a yard sale, to be an oddity, and I certainly wouldn’t list it among my favorite Pooh books. But the camaraderie among the four pals is enjoyable, as is Piglet’s show of bravery, reluctant as it may be. While I probably wouldn’t specifically seek it out, if you come across it randomly as I did, Winnie the Pooh and the Toy Airplane is worth a look.
This book features just four characters: Pooh, Piglet, Tigger and Roo. Considering Tigger’s general state of hyperness, it makes sense that he is the one with a fancy new toy to show off. It’s a rather handsome toy, and apparently it’s functional, though you sure wouldn’t know it to look at it. I could see how you might be able to toss it and possibly watch it soar for a while after being caught in a breeze, but there’s more to it than that. The thing actually flies. And when an especially small someone is in the pilot’s seat, steering is evidently a cinch.
So we have an airplane, which in and of itself seems rather out of place in such a low-tech landscape, and it’s apparently a very sophisticated piece of equipment. That makes for a rather odd premise. Meanwhile, Tigger and plane alike vanish from the story for a while, which seems a little strange. But this is what leads to Pooh, Piglet and Roo going pebble-hunting and Roo getting himself swept away by the creek, necessitating heroics after Tigger magically reappears to announce that the only way to save Roo is by flying over to him and picking him up, and the only one small enough to manage it is Piglet, who wants nothing to do with the plane. It would seem that the three who remain on the shore are not swimmers; that strikes me the more practical way to pull off a water rescue...
The writing style is extremely simple. A small circle in the corner identifies this as “A Golden Very Easy Reader,” and we’re definitely talking beginners here. Most of the sentences are quite short, and the same words come up multiple times throughout the book. Aside from the character names, we get five uses of the word “toy,” six uses of “look,” eight uses of “Oh, my” and thirteen uses of “fly” or “flying,” The repetition helps to make reading easier, though it may make the story a little dull for older readers.
Although it was published in 1990, the book has a rather flat look to it that makes it seem older. For the most part, there’s no shading to the characters, with only some shadows and color variation in the background, particularly on the grass. Still, the characters are faithful representations, and aside from the jarring blue plane, which could have used an extra detail or two - such as any indication of a steering mechanism - everything looks as it should for the Hundred-Acre Wood.
I still consider this easy reader, which I think I picked up at a yard sale, to be an oddity, and I certainly wouldn’t list it among my favorite Pooh books. But the camaraderie among the four pals is enjoyable, as is Piglet’s show of bravery, reluctant as it may be. While I probably wouldn’t specifically seek it out, if you come across it randomly as I did, Winnie the Pooh and the Toy Airplane is worth a look.
Heroes Abound in Pooh's Hero Party
Over the years, A. A. Milne’s Winnie the Pooh stories - and Disney’s
interpretation and expansion upon them - have sparked dozens, if not
hundreds, of books. While many of them are original stories, some are
simply adaptations of the classics. The latter is the case with Pooh’s Hero Party, which was written by Isabel Gaines and illustrated by Studio Orlando.
Pooh’s Hero Party is a part of the Winnie the Pooh First Reader series, which includes several slim volumes aimed at children of limited literacy. The back of each book includes some simple activities designed to help children learn new words. In this book, one encourages readers to match words up with their corresponding pictures, while another asks them to fill in the missing letter in each of a list of words.
The story itself is drawn from the eighth chapter of Milne’s The House at Pooh Corner, which was part of the basis for Disney’s Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day. It begins with Owl’s house falling down in the midst of a mighty wind and ends with a hero party in honor of not just Pooh, mentioned in the title, but his very good friend Piglet as well.
One theme that is consistent through the Winnie the Pooh stories, especially the Disneyfied versions of them, is that of friends helping one another. There’s a whole lot of that in this book. Christopher Robin, Rabbit and Eeyore help Owl inspect his damaged house. Eeyore volunteers to find a replacement abode, a kind gesture for such a reticent donkey (though it’s clear he doesn’t get out much, considering that he has no clue that the house he finds is already spoken for). Pooh finds two different ways of rescuing Piglet from a precarious situation, and Piglet makes an incredibly selfless choice for the sake of a friend. One might argue that it’s a little too selfless, since it leaves him in a predicament, but that’s quickly amended.
I like the emphasis on community in this book and the colorful illustrations that mostly look cheerful even though several of the events in the story are rather unfortunate. There are a few pictures that direct the reader’s attention to bleak emotions, most notably the one featuring a defeated-looking Piglet with downcast ears and a tear escaping his eye, but that’s soon followed by a widely smiling Piglet. While the best way to experience this story is to read Milne’s chapter or watch the Disney featurette, this cute adaptation is a good one for young Pooh enthusiasts just getting used to reading on their own.
Pooh’s Hero Party is a part of the Winnie the Pooh First Reader series, which includes several slim volumes aimed at children of limited literacy. The back of each book includes some simple activities designed to help children learn new words. In this book, one encourages readers to match words up with their corresponding pictures, while another asks them to fill in the missing letter in each of a list of words.
The story itself is drawn from the eighth chapter of Milne’s The House at Pooh Corner, which was part of the basis for Disney’s Winnie the Pooh and the Blustery Day. It begins with Owl’s house falling down in the midst of a mighty wind and ends with a hero party in honor of not just Pooh, mentioned in the title, but his very good friend Piglet as well.
One theme that is consistent through the Winnie the Pooh stories, especially the Disneyfied versions of them, is that of friends helping one another. There’s a whole lot of that in this book. Christopher Robin, Rabbit and Eeyore help Owl inspect his damaged house. Eeyore volunteers to find a replacement abode, a kind gesture for such a reticent donkey (though it’s clear he doesn’t get out much, considering that he has no clue that the house he finds is already spoken for). Pooh finds two different ways of rescuing Piglet from a precarious situation, and Piglet makes an incredibly selfless choice for the sake of a friend. One might argue that it’s a little too selfless, since it leaves him in a predicament, but that’s quickly amended.
I like the emphasis on community in this book and the colorful illustrations that mostly look cheerful even though several of the events in the story are rather unfortunate. There are a few pictures that direct the reader’s attention to bleak emotions, most notably the one featuring a defeated-looking Piglet with downcast ears and a tear escaping his eye, but that’s soon followed by a widely smiling Piglet. While the best way to experience this story is to read Milne’s chapter or watch the Disney featurette, this cute adaptation is a good one for young Pooh enthusiasts just getting used to reading on their own.
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Reindeer Puzzle Over Santa's Absence in What Could Be Keeping Santa?
In most Christmas picture books, it’s the children around the world who
wait impatiently for Santa’s arrival, but in Marilyn Janovitz’s adorable
What Could Be Keeping Santa?, his reindeer are the ones aquiver
with anxious anticipation. They know that they have a job to do, but
Santa Claus seems to have forgotten. None of them can imagine what could
possibly keep the jolly old elf from setting off on his yearly journey
on time.
Janovitz tells her story in four-line stanzas, with the first three lines rhyming and the fourth some variation on “What could be keeping Santa?” The print is large, and most of the pages only feature one or two lines. The rhyme and rhythm works very well, particularly toward the beginning of the book, in which she describes all of the indications that the time has come for Santa to set out. Oddly, she shifts tenses toward the end of the book, suddenly writing in past tense, and I find this a bit jarring, but otherwise, the book is written well, and the ultimate answer to their question is amusing.
While the narration is charming, the illustrations are what really capture the imagination. Janovitz introduces us to eight identical reindeer, all of whom walk upright. Indeed, they seem to have more in common with humans than most reindeer in Santa stories; they don’t even live in a stable. Instead, a two-page spread depicts them all dozing off under a blanket in a bed designed for eight.
Janovitz’s vision of the North Pole is quite humble. Instead of a magnificent palace, Santa lives in a little shack, and his workshop isn’t much bigger. Since we never see Mrs. Claus or any elves, it isn’t clear whether they are part of Janovitz’s vision or if we’re meant to think that Santa makes all of the toys himself, perhaps with some help from his very anthropomorphic reindeer.
Her pictures, which are spread across two pages, are done in watercolor and colored pencil, giving them a very soft, almost pastel appearance. The reindeer have rosy cheeks and simple facial structure that makes them reminiscent of teddy bears, differentiated from them primarily by their hooves and the antlers on their heads. Their concerned expressions throughout the book are quite endearing.
What Could Be Keeping Santa? is clearly written with very young readers in mind, so this book probably wouldn’t be a great choice for kids much beyond first grade, but for tiny tots, this reindeer tale is a winner.
Janovitz tells her story in four-line stanzas, with the first three lines rhyming and the fourth some variation on “What could be keeping Santa?” The print is large, and most of the pages only feature one or two lines. The rhyme and rhythm works very well, particularly toward the beginning of the book, in which she describes all of the indications that the time has come for Santa to set out. Oddly, she shifts tenses toward the end of the book, suddenly writing in past tense, and I find this a bit jarring, but otherwise, the book is written well, and the ultimate answer to their question is amusing.
While the narration is charming, the illustrations are what really capture the imagination. Janovitz introduces us to eight identical reindeer, all of whom walk upright. Indeed, they seem to have more in common with humans than most reindeer in Santa stories; they don’t even live in a stable. Instead, a two-page spread depicts them all dozing off under a blanket in a bed designed for eight.
Janovitz’s vision of the North Pole is quite humble. Instead of a magnificent palace, Santa lives in a little shack, and his workshop isn’t much bigger. Since we never see Mrs. Claus or any elves, it isn’t clear whether they are part of Janovitz’s vision or if we’re meant to think that Santa makes all of the toys himself, perhaps with some help from his very anthropomorphic reindeer.
Her pictures, which are spread across two pages, are done in watercolor and colored pencil, giving them a very soft, almost pastel appearance. The reindeer have rosy cheeks and simple facial structure that makes them reminiscent of teddy bears, differentiated from them primarily by their hooves and the antlers on their heads. Their concerned expressions throughout the book are quite endearing.
What Could Be Keeping Santa? is clearly written with very young readers in mind, so this book probably wouldn’t be a great choice for kids much beyond first grade, but for tiny tots, this reindeer tale is a winner.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
On the Twelfth Day of Christmas, Hope Your True Love Gives You This...
December of 2008 turned out to be a rather momentous month for me, musically. That was when I listened to Celtic Thunder for the first time, and within a couple weeks of that, I heard Straight No Chaser’s The 12 Days of Christmas
on the radio at work, leading me to look the group up as soon as I got
home. I love Christmas music, but I’ll confess to generally finding that
song a bit tedious and strange. Who wants all that stuff? Especially
when half that “stuff” is people?
I’ve pretty much had it with straightforward versions of that song, but the controlled harmonic chaos of this a cappella group’s version is inspired, with something to make me laugh in every verse even as my ears bask in the tight blending of voices. Many others agreed with me; after the video, taken from a 1998 performance of the Indiana University a cappella group, got millions of hits, Atlantic Records came calling. Holiday Spirits - featuring Dan Ponce, Randy Stine, Charlie Mechling, Steve Morgan, Jerome Collins, Dave Roberts, Walter Chase, Mike Itkoff, Mike Luginbill and Ryan Ahlwardt - is the result.
The 12 Days of Christmas isn’t first, but I have to mention it first since it’s the one that launched the group into national awareness. Founder Dan Ponce’s brilliant arrangement allows the members to breeze through several verses at the same time, though how they can keep straight who’s singing what is a mystery. In addition to singing multiple verses at the same time, they creatively incorporate several traditional songs, including Deck the Halls, Frosty the Snowman, Here We Come A-Wassailing and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
It’s amusing to hear the rather grotesque Boar’s Head Carol, to which VeggieTales’ zany first Christmas album introduced me, tossed in, and Hanukkah gets an endearing nod with an individual outburst of The Dreidel Song. But it’s the inclusion of Toto’s Africa that really gets me. It feels so utterly random, and yet they get the song to fit the format so perfectly. Well, okay, I’ll admit that “drummers drumming like Olympus upon the Serengeti” doesn’t actually make much sense. But the whole thing is so off-kilter that the line just makes me smile. This instantly became one of my favorite Christmas recordings - and my hands-down favorite version of the song, beating out Garrison Keillor’s deranged sound effects fest - so I was excited to learn that there was more where that came from. While this track remains my favorite, the rest of the album provides just as much listening pleasure.
Santa Claus Is Coming to Town starts off curiously sedate before turning into a peppy, doo-woppy number complete with finger-snapping and a distinctive backdrop of deep voices. Sound effects of various toys are a nice touch, and Collins, my favorite member of the group, has the lead. Jingle Bell Rock is on the mellow side, with lots of choral back-up, as is The Christmas Song, which also incorporates some jaunty whistling. Collins takes the spotlight again on This Christmas, a song I first heard from American Idol’s Ruben Studdard, though that version was a bit abrasive thanks to some intrusive instrumentation, whereas this one is smooth.
Christmas Wish has a sweetly earnest tone to it. One of two originals on the album, it is the plea of a lonely man longing for a love to share his Christmas with. Hark! The Herald Angels Sing is pretty basic, but then Collins comes in with Angels We Have Heard On High, with all the other members providing tiny bursts of backup like cheerily blinking Christmas lights, and his soulful reading of “Come to Bethlehem and see” is among my favorite moments on the album. Considering the Beach Boys’ mastery of close harmony, Little Saint Nick was a natural choice for Straight No Chaser, and they have a lot of fun with it. This is one of only two songs to incorporate an external instrument: jingle bells. And you’ll want some of your own to shake along with the music.
Indiana Christmas is a touching original song in tribute to Indiana, which is in the tradition of many songs about going home for Christmas. I don’t know how many of the group’s members are actually from Indiana, but it was certainly home to all of them at one point. Accentuating the wistful tone of the song is the verse that includes a reflection on deceased loved ones. One of my favorite tracks. Sweet Little Jesus Boy is a lullaby I first heard on Anne Murray’s Christmas album, and their rendition is somber but tender. Collins takes the lead again on the peppy, pleading Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home), and the jingle bells make a welcome return as well.
Carol of the Bells is one of the coolest, incorporating God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen in the beginning and including lots of neat harmonies and voices imitating the sound of bells. From there, we move on to Silent Night, which starts off pretty straightforward before experimenting considerably with melody and harmony on the second verse and returning to a more traditional reading for the third verse. This is one of those songs you can almost guarantee you’ll find on most Christmas albums, and their version has much to recommend it. The album ends on a chipper note even though I generally think of Auld Lang Syne as a rather melancholy song. It sure doesn’t sound like it when they do it, and why should it? These old acquaintances certainly haven’t forgotten one another, nor are you likely to forget them after hearing this luminous reunion recording.
I’ve pretty much had it with straightforward versions of that song, but the controlled harmonic chaos of this a cappella group’s version is inspired, with something to make me laugh in every verse even as my ears bask in the tight blending of voices. Many others agreed with me; after the video, taken from a 1998 performance of the Indiana University a cappella group, got millions of hits, Atlantic Records came calling. Holiday Spirits - featuring Dan Ponce, Randy Stine, Charlie Mechling, Steve Morgan, Jerome Collins, Dave Roberts, Walter Chase, Mike Itkoff, Mike Luginbill and Ryan Ahlwardt - is the result.
The 12 Days of Christmas isn’t first, but I have to mention it first since it’s the one that launched the group into national awareness. Founder Dan Ponce’s brilliant arrangement allows the members to breeze through several verses at the same time, though how they can keep straight who’s singing what is a mystery. In addition to singing multiple verses at the same time, they creatively incorporate several traditional songs, including Deck the Halls, Frosty the Snowman, Here We Come A-Wassailing and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.
It’s amusing to hear the rather grotesque Boar’s Head Carol, to which VeggieTales’ zany first Christmas album introduced me, tossed in, and Hanukkah gets an endearing nod with an individual outburst of The Dreidel Song. But it’s the inclusion of Toto’s Africa that really gets me. It feels so utterly random, and yet they get the song to fit the format so perfectly. Well, okay, I’ll admit that “drummers drumming like Olympus upon the Serengeti” doesn’t actually make much sense. But the whole thing is so off-kilter that the line just makes me smile. This instantly became one of my favorite Christmas recordings - and my hands-down favorite version of the song, beating out Garrison Keillor’s deranged sound effects fest - so I was excited to learn that there was more where that came from. While this track remains my favorite, the rest of the album provides just as much listening pleasure.
Santa Claus Is Coming to Town starts off curiously sedate before turning into a peppy, doo-woppy number complete with finger-snapping and a distinctive backdrop of deep voices. Sound effects of various toys are a nice touch, and Collins, my favorite member of the group, has the lead. Jingle Bell Rock is on the mellow side, with lots of choral back-up, as is The Christmas Song, which also incorporates some jaunty whistling. Collins takes the spotlight again on This Christmas, a song I first heard from American Idol’s Ruben Studdard, though that version was a bit abrasive thanks to some intrusive instrumentation, whereas this one is smooth.
Christmas Wish has a sweetly earnest tone to it. One of two originals on the album, it is the plea of a lonely man longing for a love to share his Christmas with. Hark! The Herald Angels Sing is pretty basic, but then Collins comes in with Angels We Have Heard On High, with all the other members providing tiny bursts of backup like cheerily blinking Christmas lights, and his soulful reading of “Come to Bethlehem and see” is among my favorite moments on the album. Considering the Beach Boys’ mastery of close harmony, Little Saint Nick was a natural choice for Straight No Chaser, and they have a lot of fun with it. This is one of only two songs to incorporate an external instrument: jingle bells. And you’ll want some of your own to shake along with the music.
Indiana Christmas is a touching original song in tribute to Indiana, which is in the tradition of many songs about going home for Christmas. I don’t know how many of the group’s members are actually from Indiana, but it was certainly home to all of them at one point. Accentuating the wistful tone of the song is the verse that includes a reflection on deceased loved ones. One of my favorite tracks. Sweet Little Jesus Boy is a lullaby I first heard on Anne Murray’s Christmas album, and their rendition is somber but tender. Collins takes the lead again on the peppy, pleading Christmas (Baby, Please Come Home), and the jingle bells make a welcome return as well.
Carol of the Bells is one of the coolest, incorporating God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen in the beginning and including lots of neat harmonies and voices imitating the sound of bells. From there, we move on to Silent Night, which starts off pretty straightforward before experimenting considerably with melody and harmony on the second verse and returning to a more traditional reading for the third verse. This is one of those songs you can almost guarantee you’ll find on most Christmas albums, and their version has much to recommend it. The album ends on a chipper note even though I generally think of Auld Lang Syne as a rather melancholy song. It sure doesn’t sound like it when they do it, and why should it? These old acquaintances certainly haven’t forgotten one another, nor are you likely to forget them after hearing this luminous reunion recording.
Bob Dylan Celebrates Traditional Christmas Music in Christmas In the Heart
When I heard last year that Bob Dylan was releasing a Christmas album, I
was intrigued, but I had misgivings - especially when I saw the title Christmas In the Heart
and learned that the album would include only traditional music. I
mean, Dylan is one of the greatest names in American folk music, but
that’s because of his ingenious songwriting skills. Skills that, I would
think, would allow him to come up with a less cliched title. Skills
that don’t so much extend to his voice. The way I see it, he absolutely
has the right to sing his own songs, but I’m not going to feel too
guilty about generally preferring covers of Dylan’s work. Why release an
album that is more likely to highlight his weaknesses than his
strengths? And I confess the thought crossed my mind... Is he making a mockery of this?
I put Christmas In the Heart on hold at the library, unsure whether a Dylan Christmas album would really be something I’d want to listen to repeatedly, but as a result, I was in for a bit of a wait. Two or three months passed before I finally got it. The upside was that in the meantime, I’d read an interview with Dylan by Bill Flanagan of the North American Street Newspaper Association that satisfied me as to the sincerity of his intentions. I especially liked his response to Flanagan’s comment that one critic said the album wasn’t irreverent enough: “Isn’t there enough irreverence in the world? Who would need more? Especially at Christmas time.”
That, coupled with the fact that the album’s proceeds would benefit the hungry, was enough to convince me that it wouldn’t be distasteful. Nonetheless, there was still Dylan’s harsh, gargling-with-sandpaper voice to consider. I might appreciate the spirit in which the album was created, but would I actually enjoy listening to it? Somewhat to my surprise, the answer was a resounding yes.
Here Comes Santa Claus - This song gets things off to a cheery start, and a chorus does quite a bit of the singing here. It’s very old-fashioned sounding replete with jingle bells, while the twangy guitar solo gives it almost a Hawaiian feel.
Do You Hear What I Hear? - This is one of my absolute favorite Christmas songs. The definitive version for me is Vanessa Williams’ African-tinged rendition, but I found myself startled by how swept away I was by this version. With its steady march beat and increasingly lush instrumentation, it has a regal sound to it, and Dylan sings with the relish of a seasoned balladeer. After all, this song, written at a time when the threat of nuclear war hung heavy in the air, probably fits in better with his own repertoire than any other on the album, and the weathered tone to his voice merely adds to the impression of wisdom. Probably my favorite track.
Winter Wonderland - Another song that feels like a throwback to the mid-1900s, especially with that chorus of female singers who get things started and chime in again toward the end.
Hark the Herald Angels Sing - The women are back here, providing harmonies on the first verse and singing on their own in the harmonious, very slow-paced second verse. There’s something a tad uneven about this one, but it’s an interesting track.
I’ll Be Home for Christmas - Piano is the prominent instrument on this slow rendition of the mournful classic, while a deep-voiced chorus and some jazzy percussion increases the nostalgic flavor.
Little Drummer Boy - Dylan flourishes best on these narrative-heavy tracks. This one is another standout. I love the steady rum-pa-pum-pum of the drums in the background, and just as Do You Hear What I Hear? feels like a Dylan-esque plea for peace, this one seems to tap into his desire to honor the holiday with his music.
The Christmas Blues - The only song on the album I’d never heard before. An appropriately bluesy track complaining about how Santa only brought “those brightly packaged, tinsel-covered Christmas blues,” with some nice harmonica thrown into the mix.
O Come All Ye Faithful - This one starts off with Dylan actually singing in Italian, which is interesting to hear. He kinda sounds to me like he learned the thing phonetically; I wouldn’t say he sounds too fluent. But it’s kind of a neat touch, followed by the more expected English rendition.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - The rhythm on this one is strange, with some phrases sounding very different than usual, but that uniqueness adds to the song’s appeal.
Must Be Santa - Accordion craziness! This one just makes me giggle. At every moment, he seems in danger of a major derailing as he loses track of the words fleetly escaping his lips, but it never quite happens. In the VeggieTales Silly Song The Dance of the Cucumber, Bob mentions his uncle Louie’s polka party; I imagine it must sound something like this raucous number.
Silver Bells - When it comes to Christmas nostalgia, this song tops the list for me. It’s Anne Murray’s version that sends me instantly hurtling back to the age of two, but I quite like this rendition as well. Nothing very distinctive about it, but it’s just rather nice.
The First Noel - Another narrative one, so we get to hear Dylan in his element again. Quite a nice track.
Christmas Island - For some reason, Bob Dylan and sunny shores don’t really seem to me to go together, so this one is another that makes me chuckle. Of course, it’s a bit of a silly song to begin with, combining stereotypical Christmas images with tropical island ones, so I suppose that’s fitting.
The Christmas Song - Dylan sings an introduction I’ve never heard before, which gives this very familiar song a distinct stamp, as does some unusual phrasing.
O Little Town of Bethlehem - Dylan ends on a note of solemn reverence with this beloved carol, right down to the drawn-out “Amen” at the end.
I’m still not wild for Bob Dylan’s voice, but I don’t mind it so much when I’m listening to this album. If you like Christmas music with a folkie flavor, give Christmas In the Heart a chance.
I put Christmas In the Heart on hold at the library, unsure whether a Dylan Christmas album would really be something I’d want to listen to repeatedly, but as a result, I was in for a bit of a wait. Two or three months passed before I finally got it. The upside was that in the meantime, I’d read an interview with Dylan by Bill Flanagan of the North American Street Newspaper Association that satisfied me as to the sincerity of his intentions. I especially liked his response to Flanagan’s comment that one critic said the album wasn’t irreverent enough: “Isn’t there enough irreverence in the world? Who would need more? Especially at Christmas time.”
That, coupled with the fact that the album’s proceeds would benefit the hungry, was enough to convince me that it wouldn’t be distasteful. Nonetheless, there was still Dylan’s harsh, gargling-with-sandpaper voice to consider. I might appreciate the spirit in which the album was created, but would I actually enjoy listening to it? Somewhat to my surprise, the answer was a resounding yes.
Here Comes Santa Claus - This song gets things off to a cheery start, and a chorus does quite a bit of the singing here. It’s very old-fashioned sounding replete with jingle bells, while the twangy guitar solo gives it almost a Hawaiian feel.
Do You Hear What I Hear? - This is one of my absolute favorite Christmas songs. The definitive version for me is Vanessa Williams’ African-tinged rendition, but I found myself startled by how swept away I was by this version. With its steady march beat and increasingly lush instrumentation, it has a regal sound to it, and Dylan sings with the relish of a seasoned balladeer. After all, this song, written at a time when the threat of nuclear war hung heavy in the air, probably fits in better with his own repertoire than any other on the album, and the weathered tone to his voice merely adds to the impression of wisdom. Probably my favorite track.
Winter Wonderland - Another song that feels like a throwback to the mid-1900s, especially with that chorus of female singers who get things started and chime in again toward the end.
Hark the Herald Angels Sing - The women are back here, providing harmonies on the first verse and singing on their own in the harmonious, very slow-paced second verse. There’s something a tad uneven about this one, but it’s an interesting track.
I’ll Be Home for Christmas - Piano is the prominent instrument on this slow rendition of the mournful classic, while a deep-voiced chorus and some jazzy percussion increases the nostalgic flavor.
Little Drummer Boy - Dylan flourishes best on these narrative-heavy tracks. This one is another standout. I love the steady rum-pa-pum-pum of the drums in the background, and just as Do You Hear What I Hear? feels like a Dylan-esque plea for peace, this one seems to tap into his desire to honor the holiday with his music.
The Christmas Blues - The only song on the album I’d never heard before. An appropriately bluesy track complaining about how Santa only brought “those brightly packaged, tinsel-covered Christmas blues,” with some nice harmonica thrown into the mix.
O Come All Ye Faithful - This one starts off with Dylan actually singing in Italian, which is interesting to hear. He kinda sounds to me like he learned the thing phonetically; I wouldn’t say he sounds too fluent. But it’s kind of a neat touch, followed by the more expected English rendition.
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas - The rhythm on this one is strange, with some phrases sounding very different than usual, but that uniqueness adds to the song’s appeal.
Must Be Santa - Accordion craziness! This one just makes me giggle. At every moment, he seems in danger of a major derailing as he loses track of the words fleetly escaping his lips, but it never quite happens. In the VeggieTales Silly Song The Dance of the Cucumber, Bob mentions his uncle Louie’s polka party; I imagine it must sound something like this raucous number.
Silver Bells - When it comes to Christmas nostalgia, this song tops the list for me. It’s Anne Murray’s version that sends me instantly hurtling back to the age of two, but I quite like this rendition as well. Nothing very distinctive about it, but it’s just rather nice.
The First Noel - Another narrative one, so we get to hear Dylan in his element again. Quite a nice track.
Christmas Island - For some reason, Bob Dylan and sunny shores don’t really seem to me to go together, so this one is another that makes me chuckle. Of course, it’s a bit of a silly song to begin with, combining stereotypical Christmas images with tropical island ones, so I suppose that’s fitting.
The Christmas Song - Dylan sings an introduction I’ve never heard before, which gives this very familiar song a distinct stamp, as does some unusual phrasing.
O Little Town of Bethlehem - Dylan ends on a note of solemn reverence with this beloved carol, right down to the drawn-out “Amen” at the end.
I’m still not wild for Bob Dylan’s voice, but I don’t mind it so much when I’m listening to this album. If you like Christmas music with a folkie flavor, give Christmas In the Heart a chance.
Thursday, November 11, 2010
The Turkey's Not on the Table in The Best Thanksgiving Day
Thanksgiving is “a day we give thanks for all the good things we have
and cook a big meal to share with friends.” This is how Christopher
Robin describes the holiday in the Winnie the Pooh Golden Book The Best Thanksgiving Day,
and it feels like a pretty fitting description, particularly for this
close-knit gang. It’s no surprise that once they know what Thanksgiving
is, they want to participate.
What is a bit surprising is that when Tigger, left without a specific task in preparation from the celebration, asks Owl what he should bring, Owl suggests, “Why don’t you bring the turkey?” I know that owls are naturally birds of prey, but it seems just a little odd to me to have Owl suggest making a meal out of a fellow bird.
Although Owl never says as much, since he prides himself on being the most knowledgeable resident of the forest, I take it for granted that he knows about Thanksgiving already, but the book doesn’t give me the impression that anyone else does, so it’s also a little strange to hear Roo and Rabbit drooling over the prospect of a turkey when Christopher Robin never mentioned it and when just about every meal in the Hundred-Acre Wood seems to be vegetarian.
Thankfully, author Ann Braybrooks spares us the sight of Tigger trying to bring down a turkey. When Tigger hears he should bring the turkey, he assumes that can only mean one thing: find a turkey and invite it to dinner. So that’s exactly what he does, though it isn’t so easy to convince a protective mother turkey, on Thanksgiving of all days, to go along with a stranger to a feast. With the hour of the dinner quickly approaching, Tigger feels like a failure, but all’s well that ends well in this cheery holiday tale.
The Best Thanksgiving Day is a cute book, but along with the strangeness of everyone suddenly developing a taste for turkey, I also can’t help but wonder, Doesn’t Christopher Robin have his own feast to go to? Of course, I suppose that he could be skipping out after his family’s own Thanksgiving dinner, but if that’s the case, how can he manage to eat anything else? And though Gopher is present in the pictures, why doesn’t the text mention him at all? And where, oh where, does Tigger come up with a turkey costume at such short notice?
So this isn’t really among my favorite Pooh books, but it’s still a cute story, and it’s even a bit educational, as one page identifies a crow, some sparrows and a quail and her babies. Additionally, the illustrations, provided by Arkadia, are quite lovely, showing us the Hundred-Acre Wood in the midst of autumn’s full glory. It’s also nice to see Tigger so determined to be helpful. So while it’s a rather odd story, The Best Thanksgiving Day is still a book worth reading as November draws to a close.
What is a bit surprising is that when Tigger, left without a specific task in preparation from the celebration, asks Owl what he should bring, Owl suggests, “Why don’t you bring the turkey?” I know that owls are naturally birds of prey, but it seems just a little odd to me to have Owl suggest making a meal out of a fellow bird.
Although Owl never says as much, since he prides himself on being the most knowledgeable resident of the forest, I take it for granted that he knows about Thanksgiving already, but the book doesn’t give me the impression that anyone else does, so it’s also a little strange to hear Roo and Rabbit drooling over the prospect of a turkey when Christopher Robin never mentioned it and when just about every meal in the Hundred-Acre Wood seems to be vegetarian.
Thankfully, author Ann Braybrooks spares us the sight of Tigger trying to bring down a turkey. When Tigger hears he should bring the turkey, he assumes that can only mean one thing: find a turkey and invite it to dinner. So that’s exactly what he does, though it isn’t so easy to convince a protective mother turkey, on Thanksgiving of all days, to go along with a stranger to a feast. With the hour of the dinner quickly approaching, Tigger feels like a failure, but all’s well that ends well in this cheery holiday tale.
The Best Thanksgiving Day is a cute book, but along with the strangeness of everyone suddenly developing a taste for turkey, I also can’t help but wonder, Doesn’t Christopher Robin have his own feast to go to? Of course, I suppose that he could be skipping out after his family’s own Thanksgiving dinner, but if that’s the case, how can he manage to eat anything else? And though Gopher is present in the pictures, why doesn’t the text mention him at all? And where, oh where, does Tigger come up with a turkey costume at such short notice?
So this isn’t really among my favorite Pooh books, but it’s still a cute story, and it’s even a bit educational, as one page identifies a crow, some sparrows and a quail and her babies. Additionally, the illustrations, provided by Arkadia, are quite lovely, showing us the Hundred-Acre Wood in the midst of autumn’s full glory. It’s also nice to see Tigger so determined to be helpful. So while it’s a rather odd story, The Best Thanksgiving Day is still a book worth reading as November draws to a close.
Santa Seems To Have Been a Little Mixed Up in The Merry Christmas Mystery
I’ve read several Christmas books featuring Winnie the Pooh, and one
thing you can always count on in these stories is that the rumbly in the
tumbly of the Silly Old Bear will be satisfied with a pot of honey,
either from Santa Claus or from a generous friend. But in The Merry Christmas Mystery,
written by Betty Birney and illustrated by Nancy Stevenson, it looks
like Pooh may have to wait a while for his favorite treat. Instead of
honey, Santa brings him... thistles. Is the Jolly Old Elf implying that
Pooh should diversify his tastes? Might thistles complement his efforts
in his morning stoutness exercises? Or is something else at play here?
Last year, I read Alexander Steffensmeier’s Millie in the Snow, a picture book about a cow who must trek home in the midst of a blizzard, carrying gifts for the folks back at the farm. The outcome of that cow tale reminded me very much of The Merry Christmas Mystery, which was one of the first in my collection of Pooh books that now includes more than a hundred volumes. I received it for Christmas, and the vibrant Golden Look-Look Book was a perfect fit for me, but in this story, a perfect fit is hard to come by. Everybody in the Hundred-Acre Wood seems to have received a gift that doesn’t make much sense.
Pooh and his thistles is only the beginning. Piglet arrives on the scene in a winter coat so big that he can scarcely walk. Rabbit shows off tiny red earmuffs that barely cover the tips of his ears. What’s a Tigger to do with a pot full of honey when it’s common knowledge that Tiggers hate honey? And what could Santa have been thinking when he gave Eeyore that peculiar coat rack? Nobody’s too sure, but the nice thing is that while general puzzlement abounds, nobody is complaining. “It was nice of Santa to think of me” becomes the familiar, polite refrain. And then, as more and more residents come together for the annual decoration of the grandest pine in the forest, they begin to share...
By the end of the book, the woodland friends manage to crack the mystery behind their unusual gifts; it’s a simple solution, though I wonder how many children would guess it ahead of time, since it involves an object that I don’t recall seeing in any other Pooh stories. I think the first time I read it, my hunch was that Santa - or perhaps Christopher Robin - just wanted to give these friends of modest means an opportunity to exchange gifts with each other. That’s the result, anyway, making this an especially sweet Pooh story.
The writing style is typical for a Disney Pooh book, and each of the characters acts and talks naturally. I love the detailed, full-color illustrations, which feature so many of these beloved characters in the pristine, snowy setting. I’m a little curious as to why Roo turns up so much earlier than Kanga, who doesn’t seem to have gotten a mixed-up present, and it’s a shame that Gopher doesn’t show up at all, but as a pure Disney invention, he does tend to make his way into fewer books than most. Everybody else is here, and it’s one very happy crew sure to spread merriment to any youngster longing for a sojourn in the Hundred-Acre Wood.
Last year, I read Alexander Steffensmeier’s Millie in the Snow, a picture book about a cow who must trek home in the midst of a blizzard, carrying gifts for the folks back at the farm. The outcome of that cow tale reminded me very much of The Merry Christmas Mystery, which was one of the first in my collection of Pooh books that now includes more than a hundred volumes. I received it for Christmas, and the vibrant Golden Look-Look Book was a perfect fit for me, but in this story, a perfect fit is hard to come by. Everybody in the Hundred-Acre Wood seems to have received a gift that doesn’t make much sense.
Pooh and his thistles is only the beginning. Piglet arrives on the scene in a winter coat so big that he can scarcely walk. Rabbit shows off tiny red earmuffs that barely cover the tips of his ears. What’s a Tigger to do with a pot full of honey when it’s common knowledge that Tiggers hate honey? And what could Santa have been thinking when he gave Eeyore that peculiar coat rack? Nobody’s too sure, but the nice thing is that while general puzzlement abounds, nobody is complaining. “It was nice of Santa to think of me” becomes the familiar, polite refrain. And then, as more and more residents come together for the annual decoration of the grandest pine in the forest, they begin to share...
By the end of the book, the woodland friends manage to crack the mystery behind their unusual gifts; it’s a simple solution, though I wonder how many children would guess it ahead of time, since it involves an object that I don’t recall seeing in any other Pooh stories. I think the first time I read it, my hunch was that Santa - or perhaps Christopher Robin - just wanted to give these friends of modest means an opportunity to exchange gifts with each other. That’s the result, anyway, making this an especially sweet Pooh story.
The writing style is typical for a Disney Pooh book, and each of the characters acts and talks naturally. I love the detailed, full-color illustrations, which feature so many of these beloved characters in the pristine, snowy setting. I’m a little curious as to why Roo turns up so much earlier than Kanga, who doesn’t seem to have gotten a mixed-up present, and it’s a shame that Gopher doesn’t show up at all, but as a pure Disney invention, he does tend to make his way into fewer books than most. Everybody else is here, and it’s one very happy crew sure to spread merriment to any youngster longing for a sojourn in the Hundred-Acre Wood.
Relive the Magic of Pushing Daisies Through Its Enchanting Soundtrack
In its all-too-short two seasons, ABC’s Pushing Daisies
consistently delivered witty, warm-hearted viewing. Every element of the
show came together to create a perfect whole, and that includes the
music. With one of the most distinctive scores in prime time, it
shouldn’t have surprised me that Pushing Daisies released a soundtrack; nonetheless, I was startled to stumble upon it while browsing through my library’s music collection.
Over the course of 32 tracks, composer Jim Dooley and the Hollywood Studio Symphony, conducted by Tim Davies, weave a magical spell. It all begins with the main title, with the suspenseful brass and strings giving way to the gentle waltz that comes up again and again. In just a few notes, it evokes the feeling of blossoming - both new life, bestowed through Ned’s touch, and renewed love between him and his childhood sweetheart Chuck. It has an epic air of romance and antiquity about it that reminds me of the score for the opening scene in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast.
This tender thread is most prominent in the tentative Lying in the Dark; the sweet Pie Hole Holding; Morgue to Love, which intercuts with the more mysterious music; the affectionate but perilous Plastic Kiss; the initially delicate Play-Doh Dreaming; the romantic Park Picnic; and Hands Against the Wall, the very brief final track. Waltzes also come into play in the nostalgic Young Ned’s Dissection and the breezy Chucky Bees, as well as Waltz, which evokes the setting of a 1940s formal dance, and the sweeping Olive and Alfredo.
In contrast with Ned and Chuck’s tender theme, we have the punchy music indicative of crusty detective Emerson Cod. This is generally jazzy and reminds me of Henry Mancini’s Pink Panther music. Short bursts of bass, finger-snapping and keyboard are hallmarks of these tracks, which include Lefty Arrives; Jeanine Pie; Emerson and the B*tches (that‘s dogs, folks...); Knitt Witt; Who’s Smoking? and Don’t Mess With the Pie Hos.
Others present a more general aura of mystery and suspense. There’s the illuminating Chuck’s News Flash; the fast-paced Where’s My Briefcase?; the creeping, accordion-tinged Homeopaths; the ominous Poor Customer Service; the spooky, harpsichord-filled Happy Halloween; the furtive Follow the Yellow Thick Hose; and the threatening Institution Omnibus.
Other tracks have a unique sound. Chuck’s Swing feels, appropriately enough, like a big-band swing dance, while Bittersweets sounds like a slightly demented carousel ride. Wilfred Woodruff’s War makes one think of intense, carefully plotted battles, with unusual instrumentation ranging from banjos and whistles to march-like percussion. Jason Lucas Diamonds does some strange things with the guitar, while Death Came is accompanied by what sounds like an assault of squeaky toys and Victor Narrowmore creatively incorporates a typewriter.
Along with the instrumental music, we have three vocal tracks that actually start off the album. The opening track is from one of my very favorite moments in the first season, when Ellen Greene’s gentle, despondent Aunt Lily, aided by the considerate Olive, allows herself to embrace life again for the first time since her beloved niece’s death. Morning Has Broken has always been one of my favorite hymns, and all that vibrant imagery about fresh life feels incredibly fitting on a show that is so much about starting again. Greene’s performance is exceptional, first hesitant, then exuberant, and it felt particularly meaningful when the episode initially aired the day before Thanksgiving.
Also included are Hopelessly Devoted to You, sung with heartfelt affection by Kristin Chenoweth’s lovelorn Olive Snook, and Greene and Chenoweth’s infectiously cheerful duet on They Might Be Giants’ Birdhouse in Your Soul, a song as sweetly daffy as the show itself. Ever since I popped in the CD last week, this one has been running through my head, and I don‘t mind.
Pushing Daisies is long off prime time now, but this soundtrack offers another opportunity for those who fell under its enchantment to recapture the magic.
Over the course of 32 tracks, composer Jim Dooley and the Hollywood Studio Symphony, conducted by Tim Davies, weave a magical spell. It all begins with the main title, with the suspenseful brass and strings giving way to the gentle waltz that comes up again and again. In just a few notes, it evokes the feeling of blossoming - both new life, bestowed through Ned’s touch, and renewed love between him and his childhood sweetheart Chuck. It has an epic air of romance and antiquity about it that reminds me of the score for the opening scene in Disney’s Beauty and the Beast.
This tender thread is most prominent in the tentative Lying in the Dark; the sweet Pie Hole Holding; Morgue to Love, which intercuts with the more mysterious music; the affectionate but perilous Plastic Kiss; the initially delicate Play-Doh Dreaming; the romantic Park Picnic; and Hands Against the Wall, the very brief final track. Waltzes also come into play in the nostalgic Young Ned’s Dissection and the breezy Chucky Bees, as well as Waltz, which evokes the setting of a 1940s formal dance, and the sweeping Olive and Alfredo.
In contrast with Ned and Chuck’s tender theme, we have the punchy music indicative of crusty detective Emerson Cod. This is generally jazzy and reminds me of Henry Mancini’s Pink Panther music. Short bursts of bass, finger-snapping and keyboard are hallmarks of these tracks, which include Lefty Arrives; Jeanine Pie; Emerson and the B*tches (that‘s dogs, folks...); Knitt Witt; Who’s Smoking? and Don’t Mess With the Pie Hos.
Others present a more general aura of mystery and suspense. There’s the illuminating Chuck’s News Flash; the fast-paced Where’s My Briefcase?; the creeping, accordion-tinged Homeopaths; the ominous Poor Customer Service; the spooky, harpsichord-filled Happy Halloween; the furtive Follow the Yellow Thick Hose; and the threatening Institution Omnibus.
Other tracks have a unique sound. Chuck’s Swing feels, appropriately enough, like a big-band swing dance, while Bittersweets sounds like a slightly demented carousel ride. Wilfred Woodruff’s War makes one think of intense, carefully plotted battles, with unusual instrumentation ranging from banjos and whistles to march-like percussion. Jason Lucas Diamonds does some strange things with the guitar, while Death Came is accompanied by what sounds like an assault of squeaky toys and Victor Narrowmore creatively incorporates a typewriter.
Along with the instrumental music, we have three vocal tracks that actually start off the album. The opening track is from one of my very favorite moments in the first season, when Ellen Greene’s gentle, despondent Aunt Lily, aided by the considerate Olive, allows herself to embrace life again for the first time since her beloved niece’s death. Morning Has Broken has always been one of my favorite hymns, and all that vibrant imagery about fresh life feels incredibly fitting on a show that is so much about starting again. Greene’s performance is exceptional, first hesitant, then exuberant, and it felt particularly meaningful when the episode initially aired the day before Thanksgiving.
Also included are Hopelessly Devoted to You, sung with heartfelt affection by Kristin Chenoweth’s lovelorn Olive Snook, and Greene and Chenoweth’s infectiously cheerful duet on They Might Be Giants’ Birdhouse in Your Soul, a song as sweetly daffy as the show itself. Ever since I popped in the CD last week, this one has been running through my head, and I don‘t mind.
Pushing Daisies is long off prime time now, but this soundtrack offers another opportunity for those who fell under its enchantment to recapture the magic.
Anne Of Green Gables Didn't Need a New Beginning; Stick With the Old One
For as long as I can remember, I’ve loved Anne Shirley, the protagonist
of the beloved L. M. Montgomery series, and I’m equally swept away by
Kevin Sullivan’s flawless adaptation of the first book in miniseries
form. Almost as good is his sequel, Anne of Avonlea, though it takes considerably more liberties with the story. However, his third
and fourth Anne films are a complete departure from the books, and they
threaten to sap away much of the charm of his own first two
installments.
The fourth, and presumably final, chapter in Sullivan’s Anne saga is Anne of Green Gables: A New Beginning. Right off the bat, he alienates most of his female audience by killing off Gilbert, that stalwart doctor who waited so patiently for Anne to accept his regard for her, setting millions of hearts aflutter in the process. Sullivan’s series is set a couple of decades after Montgomery’s, so while the books show us a middle-aged Anne and Gilbert watching their sons go off to fight in World War I, here we have a middle-aged Gilbert dying against the backdrop of World War II. Seemingly, he has been killed in action, though the movie barely bothers to mention why Anne is on her own. It all feels very glossed over.
Another problem is that the cast is almost entirely unfamiliar. Aside from brief glimpses of Jonathan Crombie and Colleen Dewhurst as Anne remembers Gilbert and Marilla and a quick appearance by Patricia Hamilton as Rachel Lynde, who’s still chugging along well into her 90s, no actors from the original miniseries remain, and few characters do. Anne is now portrayed by Barbara Hershey, as well as Hannah Endicott-Douglas in flashbacks to Anne’s youth. The present finds Anne back in Avonlea, hoping to sell Green Gables, but first she wants to enjoy its quietude once more as she tries to work out the kinks in a play she’s writing for a community theater production. When she stumbles upon an old letter sent to Marilla by her father, it drastically changes the direction of her play and sends her in search of some definitive answers about her past.
That’s where my biggest problem with the movie lies. Here, we find out that Anne lived happily with her parents until the age of nine or so, and then her mother died in a tragic accident and her father headed for the hills. As a coping mechanism, she made up a story about both of her parents succumbing to illness in her infancy.
Um... What?
I’m sorry, this is just too great a leap for this purist, and it cheapens Anne of Green Gables immeasurably if we’re supposed to believe that Anne just kept up this ruse indefinitely. It renders her not so much imaginative as an egregious liar. And Green Gables is such a glorious haven for Anne in large part because she never had a place she could truly call home. If she had a normal, happy childhood for nine years, then Matthew and Marilla’s impact is greatly reduced. The whole thing just puts a sour taste in my mouth.
I couldn’t connect much with the older, melancholy Anne with writer’s block and a boatload of daddy issues. Much more engaging were the flashbacks, and Endicott-Douglas was very believable as a younger Anne, capturing her feisty spirit and tendency toward the overdramatic wonderfully. Sullivan gives her several exciting adventures, including a sojourn in a horrific homeless shelter of sorts that is largely a rip-off of The Count of Monte Cristo. But her subsequent immersion in the Thomas family falls apart, and there’s a definite disconnect at the end, with her abandonment a little too abrupt and complete to make much sense.
I will always love Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea, and I thank Sullivan for making them. But he should have quit while he was ahead.
The fourth, and presumably final, chapter in Sullivan’s Anne saga is Anne of Green Gables: A New Beginning. Right off the bat, he alienates most of his female audience by killing off Gilbert, that stalwart doctor who waited so patiently for Anne to accept his regard for her, setting millions of hearts aflutter in the process. Sullivan’s series is set a couple of decades after Montgomery’s, so while the books show us a middle-aged Anne and Gilbert watching their sons go off to fight in World War I, here we have a middle-aged Gilbert dying against the backdrop of World War II. Seemingly, he has been killed in action, though the movie barely bothers to mention why Anne is on her own. It all feels very glossed over.
Another problem is that the cast is almost entirely unfamiliar. Aside from brief glimpses of Jonathan Crombie and Colleen Dewhurst as Anne remembers Gilbert and Marilla and a quick appearance by Patricia Hamilton as Rachel Lynde, who’s still chugging along well into her 90s, no actors from the original miniseries remain, and few characters do. Anne is now portrayed by Barbara Hershey, as well as Hannah Endicott-Douglas in flashbacks to Anne’s youth. The present finds Anne back in Avonlea, hoping to sell Green Gables, but first she wants to enjoy its quietude once more as she tries to work out the kinks in a play she’s writing for a community theater production. When she stumbles upon an old letter sent to Marilla by her father, it drastically changes the direction of her play and sends her in search of some definitive answers about her past.
That’s where my biggest problem with the movie lies. Here, we find out that Anne lived happily with her parents until the age of nine or so, and then her mother died in a tragic accident and her father headed for the hills. As a coping mechanism, she made up a story about both of her parents succumbing to illness in her infancy.
Um... What?
I’m sorry, this is just too great a leap for this purist, and it cheapens Anne of Green Gables immeasurably if we’re supposed to believe that Anne just kept up this ruse indefinitely. It renders her not so much imaginative as an egregious liar. And Green Gables is such a glorious haven for Anne in large part because she never had a place she could truly call home. If she had a normal, happy childhood for nine years, then Matthew and Marilla’s impact is greatly reduced. The whole thing just puts a sour taste in my mouth.
I couldn’t connect much with the older, melancholy Anne with writer’s block and a boatload of daddy issues. Much more engaging were the flashbacks, and Endicott-Douglas was very believable as a younger Anne, capturing her feisty spirit and tendency toward the overdramatic wonderfully. Sullivan gives her several exciting adventures, including a sojourn in a horrific homeless shelter of sorts that is largely a rip-off of The Count of Monte Cristo. But her subsequent immersion in the Thomas family falls apart, and there’s a definite disconnect at the end, with her abandonment a little too abrupt and complete to make much sense.
I will always love Anne of Green Gables and Anne of Avonlea, and I thank Sullivan for making them. But he should have quit while he was ahead.
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