Something Up With Which I Will Not Put

Okay, aside from the being unemployed part...

Andrew and I went to the Supertramp concert at the Molson Centre last night. It was a great show! For years I've heard Montreal DJs talk about how our hip, with-it city was the first place to really embrace Supertramp, and for years I've thought this was essentially patting ourselves on the back. But John Helliwell made a point of saying how much the group loves Montreal, and how over the years we've always been a great place to play, and that we really were the first place to "get" their music.

What an incredibly talented group! Helliwell plays three different saxes, as well as an assortment of wind instruments, Rick Davies is, as always, an amazing pianist, and Mark Hart, who has replaced Roger Hodgson, is a good singer, great keyboardist, and fantastic songwriter. Bob Siebenberg, the original drummer, is still banging away - and now his son, Jesse, is also doing percussion. Imagine growing up surrounded by these guys, and then, while your childhood friends are starting their careers in business or whatever, you go into the family business of being a rock musician!

Earlier this summer we saw Santana, and in January we're off to see the Stones. And I thought I was born too late to see these bands!

Nonetheless, the highlight of my summer has to be:
Two weekends ago, while staying at the family cottage in Long Sault, near Cornwall, Ontario, I stopped in at the LCBO (Ontario's version of the SAQ, colloquially known as the beer store). I picked up a couple of imported beers for Andrew and a pack of four El Quila. Got to the cash, and the cashier asked me for I.D.!!!! I got carded! I guess I can put off the face lift for a couple of years.

As a friend said, after that, who needs the booze?

I got immense Satisfaction last night at the Stones concert. Of course, every concert I attend invokes the fantasy that some one on stage (in this case, Jagger) will look up into the stands, see me, and stop everything until I agree to come up on stage to sing and dance with him. Alas, this fantasy continues to be unfulfilled.

I sent the following as e-mail to CHOM this morning - Terry quoted me extensively, so at least my radio fantasy is partially fulfilled:

I just wanted to address the idea that the Stones are “old” or “past their prime” – this is not some pathetic come-back group playing to a half-filled house at Café campus. This is a vibrant, energetic group that still has what it takes to sell out the Bell Centre. The Stones are still writing, and God knows they're still selling.

I think that the idea that they (and The Who, McCartney, and so on) are “old” is based on the idea that rockers are supposed to be angry young men from nowhere – but isn’t that because when rock really made it as a genre, that’s what the Stones et al were?

These guys started it – rock has only been with us since the ‘50s. It’s taken us 40 years to reach a point where there can be “old” rock stars. The Stones and their “contemporaries” from the 60s and 70s are still around because they have the talent, the perseverance and the following to keep going. They set the precedent 40 years ago, and they're still breaking new ground, if only by being as old as my Dad and still kicking butt.

If they can still fill every seat in the arena, then I say more power to them! I could go on and on (for example, did people tell the elderly Picasso to stop painting, dammit, he was too old?) but for now I’ll stop there.

I am still alive, really.

I've been engrossed in other things, and sadly neglecting my blog. My apologies. As I said to one blogette who complained about the lack of posts, I really didn't know I had an audience. Aside from stalwarts Bill & Becca, comments are few and far between. I assumed the chirping crickets meant I was writing into a void. Apparently I was wrong, and teeming hordes of readers are breathlessly awaiting my next bon mot. No pressure, of course.

Anyway, in an effort to prove that I really do care, I've added a page of educational resources. Go there. It's good for you, like bran flakes, but without the rush to the loo.

Well, you ask (apparently), what have I been doing with myself? - catching up on backissues of the Times Literary Supplement - stripping paint off of every painted surface in the house (or so it seems) - researching texts for my upcoming Lit courses - laundry - researching refurbished laptops - learning code (yes, I've gone to the dark side) - reading, reading, reading

I just finished Everything is Illuminated, by Jonathan Safran Foer, which came with many recommendations. I now officially add my recommendation to the list.
The book is funny, sad, tragic, well-written... definitely worth the time. Part of the appeal for me is that Zoer doesn't hit you over the head with too much exposition - and he's paced it so that you suddenly realize where everything is headed and think to yourself "Oh my God, I was laughing at that?!?"

Other recent reads:

Black Bird, by Michel Basilieres

This is a must-read for Montrealers. Basilieres takes extraordinary liberties with Montreal history, but taps into our municipal psyche rather well. Nationalists may find the book a little offensive, but no one on either side of the debate walks away unscathed. The family at the center of the action is the DeSouche clan, half French, half English, all nuts in their own special ways. The setting is downtown Montreal, just before the October Crisis. There are some extremely funny moments, and some even more extremely disturbing ones. There's an anglo doctor creating his very own Frankenstein, using Brother Andre's heart, no less. There's a crow (hence the title) who plucks out the patriarch's eye. And above all there are myriad references that make a Montrealer all warm and fuzzy.

Lots and lots of P.D. James
I think I'm addicted.

Currently on the nightstand:
How to Read Literature Like a Professor
If I'm gonna be one...

How to Be a Villain
courtesy of Dina and Steve. Muahahaha.

Life of Pi

Last night's gala, the fourth of five at the 21st anniversary Just for Laughs festival, was perhaps the best gala I can remember seeing. Since 1998, when I worked at JFL, we've gone to at least one gala per festival. Starting last year, my sister, mother and aunt have done An Evening at Eve's Tavern as well. This year, I also saw one of the Bubbling with Laughter shows, which was the least impressive of the three shows I took in.

Just for Laughs Gaga featuring Tina Fey
Saturday, July 19, 2003

The gala started with Bobby Badfingers, a reprise from an earlier gala. Granted, great finger snapping, but once you've seen him do 'Wipe Out,' you're pretty much good. So the extra two numbers, complete with forced audience participation, was a little on the lame side.

The gala really started with the predictable 'Live from the St-Denis Theatre...' and the smart, funny, gorgeous Tina Fey ensconced behind the Weekend Update desk. Her update was almost entirely Canadian - including a shot at the latest census data in which thousands listed their religion as 'Jedi': "although the data on religion has to be disregarded, Stats Can is happy because they now have a count of Canadian dorks." Also, she brought up the fact that it's now legal for Canadian doctors to prescribe medicinal marijuana: "and in related news, actor Woody Harrelson has applied to med school at McGill."

After what she referred to as her "9,999th" Anna Nicole Smith joke, Fey said she was about more than trashing celebrities, and broke into 'Let me Entertain You.' Great singer, great dancer, and the best part? After all these years of wondering what news anchors are like from the waist down... Fey emerged from behind the desk in fishnets, a leotard, and fake fat legs and butt. As soon as the pic is available, you’ll see what I mean.

The first comic was Suli McCullough, whose best bit was letting us in on the fact that the guy inside Barney is black: “think about it – he’s 6’8” and dances, he wears a purple fur coat with green trim, and his girl’s name is Baby Bop. He’s Tyrone-asaurus Rex.”

Next up was Dave Coulier, who was the least annoying cast member of Full House. His act consists primarily of impersonations of cartoon characters, including Bullwinkle, Scooby Doo and Shaggy. These voices are dead-on, and very funny. He did get in a couple of good actual jokes, including “I’m so excited to be here. I wrote an act this morning and everything. Some of these are time-released jokes. You’ll get them in the car on the way home.”

Colin Quinn, an SNL alum and former Weekend Update anchor, was next, and came across as relatively funny but mainly drunk. Best bit? “To be an intellectual in the US these days all you have to do is say ‘yeah, but there’s a lot of stuff the government isn’t telling you.’ Right, like they’re telling you?”

My personal favourite of the night was Lee Mack, a Brit who was introduced as “adding another notch to his Commonwealth bedpost.” His act included a couple of great physical bits, which are obviously less funny when recounted textually (but the Riverdance from the waist up bit is something you can visualize). Best bit? Can’t decide – could be “I remember my Nan’s last words. She said to me, “what are you doing with that hammer?” Or it could be “I am being blamed for the death of the Queen Mum. I got home, turned on the TV, and the announcer said ‘if you’ve just turned on your television, the Queen Mother has died.’”

The last act before intermission was Tina Fey’s brief introduction to American culture (prefaced by a great bit about a conversation she had with a fellow-New Yorker about how sad it is that Americans know so much about Canada, but Canadians have no concept of American culture). Her presentation began with a map showing the “4 states – California, New York, Chicago and Hillbillyville.” She covered freedom of speech, gay marriage (as long as it’s to a person of the opposite sex) and freedom of religion – “Christian, Jew, or constantly under surveillance.”

1st act after intermission was Otis Lee Crenshaw (aka Rich Hall), a convicted felon from the “Darwinian rewind button, Tennessee.” Best bit – “Shania Twain? ‘That don’t impress me much.’ Shania, you’re Canadian. Anything impresses you. Maple syrup impresses you. ‘So you’re a rocket scientist. That don’t impress me much.’ How can you not be impressed by a rocket scientist?”

I overheard a lot of people say their favourite was Mitch Fatel, who was really good (but I still prefer Lee Mack). Some of his best: “I like small breasts. They have personality. It’s like they’re saying ‘Hello! Can I help you?’ No thanks, just looking.” And, regarding women who say ‘I usually wait six months before sleeping with a guy’: “how does that work? Do you e-mail me or something?”

Next up was Barry Julien, the only local on the bill. It wasn’t his best set ever, but he didn’t altogether bomb, I guess. Nothing really worth repeating, though.

We had a surprise guest next, when Tina Fey came on a one half of the country duo ‘The Staley Sisters.’ Other half – Rachel Dratch of SNL. The premise is that these sisters tour, singing their dead daddy’s inspirational songs, including ‘She was hangin’ laundry:’
She was hanging laundry one fine day
When her shoe she bent to tie…
Old grey cooch, old grey cooch, I saw Gramma’s old grey cooch that day…

The last comic of the night was Louis CK, whose best bit was on the guy with the sign that says “Honk if you love America.” “Sure, I love my country, but no guy with a Magic Marker is going to tell me what to do. Makes me want to walk up to him with a sign that says ‘Lick my ball if you love Jesus.’”

The show ended with a great a capella group called Naturally Seven. They were fabulous – rock solid despite a couple of technical glitches.

All around, a great show.

Just for Laughs Festival, July 18, 2003

Last year, my mum, sister and aunt did a girls’ day – lunch, shopping, An Evening at Eve’s Tavern, and supper. This year, we decided we loved that day so much we’d make it a tradition. We invited Kate and her mum along, partly to celebrate Kate’s recent (as in, same day!) move to Montreal.

My participation in the afternoon elements of the itinerary was curtailed because a certain tiny person chose to make an unscheduled appearance.

I met up with the girls at my place, where we had a nice cuppa and a quick catch-up before cramming ourselves circus-clown-style into Kathryn’s car and heading downtown. We arrived at the Spectrum to find a bit of a line-up, but were soon enough inside, and found a great table upstairs.

This year’s host, Aisha Tyler, is gorgeous but had a lot to live up to, given that last year’s host was Jann Arden, perhaps not as tall and slim, but definitely funnier and with better delivery. Tyler was the weakest element in an otherwise great show – of the three shows I took in the year, Eve’s was better than Bubbling with Laughter but not as good as the gala.

The first act was Sheryl Underwood, whom I’ve seen before, but who was more than a little raunchier this time – her other festival appearances this year included the Nasty Show, so I guess she was in that frame of mind. We were a little concerned that she was a sign of things to come for the rest of the evening, but thankfully, the rest of the comics were a lot less crass. Not that Underwood was unfunny – she had some great lines about being a black Republican: “there are eight of us. One of the perks is that we get flown in to any party event. Of course we have to move around the floor constantly so it looks like there are more of us…”

Highlights

Michele Balan: “I realized why we gain weight as we get older. I think to myself, ‘wow, I’m horny – wait, there’s a cookie. That’s easier.”

Judy Gold: (for context, gay, New Yorker, has 2 kids with her partner, 1st was carried by her partner, 2nd by her): “Our kids are going to be completely screwed up – two Jewish mothers.”
“My partner had our first child, by caesarian, because everything has to be dramatic… when the baby was 6 days old, we went out for a walk. I had the baby in the carrier, and my partner was holding on to walls to keep from collapsing. At the counter in the coffee shop, a woman asked me how old the baby was. I said ‘six days,’ and the woman said ‘wow, you look amazing!’ I said ‘thank you…’

Carla Collins: “I bought a vibrator at Ikea. I can’t get it assembled. I’m using the Allen key. It’s a little small.”

Maria Bamford: “Children in America, according to statistics, are more depressed than ever before. The sippy cup is half empty.”

Wendy Liebman (who closed the show and brought down the house):
• “My brother is in gradual school… he’s studying philosophy… he doesn’t know why.”
• “I took a year off to have a baby… … it didn’t work.”
• “I married a man with a 5-year old… mentality.”
• “His proposal was so romantic… he turned off the TV… well, he muted the TV… during a commercial…”
• “He does have kids, which is great, because now I have a second chance… to fail algebra.”
• “Now I understand my mother better. She always said that a mother has to be willing to give things up… like the will to live.”
• “Canada is great. The American health system is awful. My doctor charges me for a breast self-exam. It’s a flat fee.”
• “I can do an 18-hour bra in 15 minutes.”
• “I can’t drive and drive. I nearly had an accident with a house – it was on a trailer… it was headed right for me… I flashed my headlights and honked, but there was no one home… so I drove into the garage.”

In Life of Pi, Martel continues the recent trend (seen in The Dutch Wife and Everything is Illuminated) of a first-person narrator presented as the author, reporting a second narrator’s first-person narrative of an altogether exotic story. In all three cases, this narrative device is deployed essentially to make the reader feel, through most of the book, completely at ease and secure, only to create complete distrust by the final chapters.

Life of Pi is a Homeric epic, a quest story that doesn’t actually go anywhere, geographically, for the better part of the story. Pi, a teenager from India en route to Canada with his family and the remnants of the family zoo, is shipwrecked somewhere in the Pacific, and spends 227 days adrift in a lifeboat with an adult Bengal tiger named Richard Parker. He tells his story from the perspective of the survivor, as an adult living in Canada thirty years later.

The Homeric elements are subtle but solid – there’s a deceptively lush, inviting island (inhabited by aquatic meerkats, no less), blindness, storms at sea, the odd albatross, and, of course, the fact that the hero renames himself ‘Pi’ – a Greek letter and an ambiguous number, reminiscent of Odysseus telling the Cyclops that he is called no-man.

Martel makes Pi a Universalist, who believes and practices Hindu, Catholic and Muslim rituals, before, during and after his ordeal at sea. Of course, the only thing Pi really worships as a castaway is the tiger, whom he credits for giving him the will to live. This is not in the cuddly, we-befriended-each-other-to-survive sense, but in the I-will-survive-in-spite-of-the-man-eating-tiger sense. (Maybe the tiger is the .14 to the 3 religions) I was left with the impression that the religious beliefs were merely exercises in aesthetics, while the tiger was the real source of soul-level faith. Richard Parker is a real god, awful in both senses, fearsome and remote – and when Pi hits rock bottom, blind from malnutrition and waiting for death, the tiger speaks to him, as in a religious vision brought on by starvation.

Life of Pi is well-written – beautifully written, even. It made me laugh aloud in places and shudder in others. Martel has mastered the art of symbolism, making it obvious enough that you recognize the symbols at work, but subtle enough that you don’t feel you’re being whacked about the head with the 2x4 of exposition.

I recommend it without hesitation.

We watched Minority Report last night. I'd review it, but I've already posted a lengthy Homeric interpretation today.

Suffice it to say that the film includes oracles, priests, a Cassandra, blinding, loss of identity, possible Oedipal issues, and an expositional 2x4.

Still worth watching, though, if only to induce covetousness for the nifty gloves.

This was my first Carol Shields novel – I’ve read a couple of her short stories – and I zipped through it in record time. There’s something about it that feels inherently Canadian; it reminded me of Alice Munro and Margaret Lawrence.

The book is “written” by the protagonist, Daisy, from moments before her birth to moments after her death, but the narrator continually shifts from first to third person. In fact, most of the story is told in the third person, so that the occasional “I” really throws you – and reminds you that the narrator is naturally biased, and theoretically at least, writing from distant memory. In fact, the one unanswered question is “when did Daisy write her life?” – from beginning to end, the story is presented in the past tense, but if we are to believe that this is a memoir written by the protagonist, whose death, funeral, gravesite and epilogue are included, then we have to assume that at some point, memory becomes prediction. But which point? I like to think that her old age and death are imagined by Daisy while she in the depths of her ‘nervous condition’ in her 60s, but of course, it’s all conjecture.

One of the things that I most enjoyed was the complete lack of amazement at the advances taking place in the outside world – there’s very little real history, and certainly no ‘wow, isn’t that incredible’ reflection on things like landing on the moon or Watergate. Daisy is born in 1905 and dies in the 90s, so she essentially lives through the century. She spends her married life in Ottawa, but there’s no Trudeaumania. There isn’t even Beatlemania. It’s real enough to feel real, but isolated enough to be exclusively Daisy’s story.

Definitely a recommendation, especially if you’ve read and enjoyed Munro and/or Lawrence.

Currently on the nightstand:

A Year in Provence by Peter Mayle (so far, it’s reminiscent of Under the Tuscan Sun (the book, not the &^%*# movie))

Update

A Year in Provence was a fun read, and my initial impression of it being in the same subcategory of travellogues as Tuscan Sun was not altered - but I did find it amusing to learn that Mayle is almost universally disliked by his Provencal neighbours.

Our somewhat sporadic book club met last night to discuss Everything is Illuminated. As usual, some of us loved it, some us, not so much. Also as usual, the conversation was stimulating; I always love talking shop with other readers, gleaning new insights and approaches, discovering anew how different the reading experience is for each reader.

I was particularly appreciative of Danielle's invocation of Gabriel Garcia Marquez - despite how much I enjoyed Everything is Illuminated, I hadn't taken the time to question exactly why. With the mention of Magic Realism, and in particular One Hundred Years of Solitude, everything was, indeed, illuminated. So, to add to my previous recommendation, if you liked OHYS, you'll probably enjoy EII.

Our next book is George Singleton's The Half-Mammals of Dixie, a collection of short stories set in the American South.

Antonia Fraser

I’ve read several of Fraser’s royal biographies, including Mary Queen of Scots and The Six Wives of Henry VIII. I was very much looking forward to Marie Antoinette – I resisted buying it in hardcover, and made myself wait til I had time to devote to the paperback (500+ pages).

Marie Antoinette is, for me, one of those historical figures who ubiquitousness (yes, it’s a word) led me to believe I knew everything I needed to know about her. Fraser’s book, however, details a genuine riches-to-rags saga filled with minutiae of the French and Austrian courts, the events that culminated in the deposition and execution of Louis XVI, and the fall from grace of the French queen.

I’m sure that many of these details are easily found elsewhere, but I do enjoy Fraser’s approach, even if she is unapologetically apologist. I do think the book would have benefited from some careful editing – some of the minutiae is repetitive or altogether unnecessary – and unlike other historical bios I’ve encountered, this one didn’t include any family trees or other visual representation of the major players. In this case, where the vast majority of ‘characters’ are titled, it’s not always easy to keep track of them – especially when titles are passed on to heirs, exchanged voluntarily or by royal decree, or forsaken for a more Republican name after the Revolution.

I also found myself very occasionally put off by Fraser’s insistence that her reader already knows all the salient facts, and is merely looking for hypothetical explanations. Granted, this approach is better than a condescending one that assumes complete ignorance; but given that I didn’t know about the infamous Diamond Necklace Affair, for instance, I would have appreciated some explanation of why it’s such a big deal to historians.

Overall, I enjoyed the journey, and I’m glad I know a little more about Marie Antoinette, who never, ever, invited the peasants to eat cake.

Call this one a recommendation if you like that sort of thing.

Since Becca brings up "Survivor," I have a confession to make - last night I watched "The Apprentice." I admit it, I couldn't look away...

In the end, though, the only thing that stayed with me is the thought that Donald Trump really, really needs to fire his hairdresser. How much money does this guy have? Then why does he look like a tribble died on his head?

Mitch Albom

Oy, the schmaltz!

This would definitely be waaaaaaay too much on a larger scale; but at 200 pages or so, it makes a good diversion on one of those long afternoons when it’s raining and you have access to a kettle and a box of Kleenex.

Barbara Kingsolver

I enjoyed this book much more than I had expected to. It’s the story of a quartet of sisters who are uprooted from their life in Georgia to live in a small village in the Congo with their Baptist missionary father. The story is told in alternating chapters – each “book” of the Bible begins with a chapter told by the mother, then the sisters take turns telling the story.

Ian McEwan

This is the first McEwan I’ve read (although I have owned Amsterdam for a long time without reading it. I enjoyed Atonement enough to root through my home library and find Amsterdam, but not so much that I’ll do it any time soon.

Just for Laughs Festival, July 21, 2004

In keeping with our annual tradition, my Mum and I went to the all-female JFL show, this year bringing along Irene, Kate, and Jeannine, a.k.a. the world’s greatest mother-in-law.

The 2004 edition of Eve’s was at Kola Note, which was, once upon a time, Club Soda, so the show was returning to its birthplace. Mum and Kate and I seem to agree that we liked this year better than last. The theme, if there was one, was the futility of dieting – we’ve noticed that the show tends toward an unannounced, unintentional theme topic that coincidentally appears in some form in most of the sets. Two years ago the theme was peeing… last year, motherhood in various guises was popular, as was the female orgasm (no kidding).

Great movie - true to the feel of the book series, very Cold War era in its atmosphere and so on.

BUT...

Fer G/d's sake, use a steadicam. The handheld shots are very exciting initially, very movement oriented and edgy, but...

Dr. T and I arrived five minutes before the 9:15 show, and ended up in the 6th row centre - bad move. We walked out after half an hour, exchanged our tickets for the 10:15, and sat in the last row. Much better - although the constant barrage of exciting handheld cam shots eventually gets to the strongest stomach, even way back in the last row.

Recommendation: definitely see this film, but take some Gravol first.

Some very brief reviews based on this summer's reading:

Tricky Business (Dave Barry)
This is Barry's second work of fiction (the first was Big Trouble, which I have not read). Dr. T and I are big fans of his non-fiction, as our bathroom library attests. Tricky Business was good, and felt very much like a Barry book - but the violence was often gratuitous and occasionally way too graphic.

The Devil Wears Prada (Lauren Weisberger)
This was the first of two paperbacks that I preordered, then waited for ages to finally get my hands on. This one was not worth the wait - while it definitely struck a chord in terms of working for an unreasonable, self-absorbed crazy woman, the writing is not as good as one would expect. The repetitious dialogue, in which the author conveys nervousness by starting every sentence with "um," was particularly annoying.

The Murder Room (P.D. James)
The second pre-order - this one was worth the wait. James still manages to create a golden age detective story while convincingly incorporating modern elements - the cell phone in the trunk is particularly eerie - and she manages to trick the reader. It's not who you think it is... and that's all I'll reveal. As for Dalgliesh, James does address the issue of his personal life, but it does not overwhelm the plot of the mystery.

England, England (Julian Barnes)
Barnes has a vicious sense of humour and a good sense of history, as I originally discovered in his History of the World in Ten and a Half Chapters. This time he tackles the sceptered isle and its historical, literary, mythological import, and the result is funny, although it tends to focus more on the interoffice politics than on the satirical observation of the nation as a whole.

The Murder of Roger Ackroyd (Agatha Christie)
Inspired by the course I taught this spring in Detective Fiction, I picked this up second-hand, and I'm glad I did. Christie is a great mystery writer, and while this book features neither Poirot nor Miss Marple, the narrator is likeable, the plot well laid out, and the solution twisted.

by Libby Schmais

I picked this up on a whim because the title intrigued me and the book was on sale at Chapters for about $5. The jacket blurb starts with "This modern-day Sense and Sensibility is a witty story about two sisters: Liza, a would-be poet who spends miserable days as a legal secretary; and Bette a graduate student writing her dissertation on Toast in the English Novel."

Naturally, I figured this was the perfect book for me.

It turns out the only perfect thing about this book is the second word of the title. Granted, I finished the book in two sessions, but only because it pissed me off so much that I couldn't sleep, so I kept reading.

by Dan Brown

Well, first of all, kudos to my Dad for sending my Mum to Scotland, ostensibly to visit my gran, just to find me a paperback copy of this! I have managed to avoid The Da Vinci Code thus far simply because I have been waiting for the paperback, for a couple of reasons - first, because $30+ for a hardback seems a little extravagant for a novel, and second, because I tend to read in bed, or at least in semi-prone positions on the couch, and hardbacks are heavy.

by Bill Bryson

I really, really liked this book - although it's not 'nearly everything.' This is a great history of the progress of scientific thought, particularly scientific thought in the 18th, 19th and 20th centuries. It gives readers a really good, layman's terms, idea of what we think about the universe, the planet and the life thereon.

I feel oddly compelled to post today, if only because posting today will continue the pattern into which I seem to have fallen...

So, just to make it worth your while:

Brief reviews

The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time
Mark Haddon
This is a great book, with a compelling narrator who is so realistic that people have been fooled into thinking that Haddon himself is autistic. In fact, Haddon did work with autistic children, and he obviously has a good writer's gift of observation.

In brief, I laughed, I cried, etc., etc. Mind you, I bought the book primarily because (a) I had heard things, (b) it had a neat cover (I know, 'don't judge a book by its cover,' but really, who among us doesn't? It works as a metaphor, but actual books can definitely be judged by their covers.), and (c) the title is an allusion to a Sherlock Holmes story, 'Silver Blaze.' Yes, the book was great, but there was a significant lack of references to Holmes, although there was a curious incident, in the night-time, involving a dog.

Definite recommendation.

Read another review of this book.

The Jane Austen Book Club
Karen Joy Fowler
I've been trying to remember which book this book reminds me of (aside from the obvious parallels with various Austen novels), and I can't! The premise is that six people - five women and one incongruous man - form an "all-Austen-all-the-time" book club. The women are of various ages, marital statuses and sexual orientations, and each one hosts one of the six club meetings.

Fowler manages to incorporate enough nuances of Austen characters into her own to let you know what she's doing, without the echoes drowning out her own story. After all, as 'Bride and Prejudice' demonstrated, Austen's characters and themes are universally recognized, if not universally experienced.

As any good Austen story, there are plenty of giggles, if not guffaws, and a few sardonic narrative grins. The narrator is the most interesting facet - this is a first-person narrative, but plural - "The six of us - Jocelyn, Bernadette, Sylvia, Allegra, Prudie and Grigg - made up the full roster..." So the implication is that the narrator is part of the group; however, the narrator's identity is never revealed. Every member of the group is discussed in the third person. I spent the second half of the book playing process-of-elimination, trying to figure out which of the six could "be" the "I" behind the "we."

Recommended, especially if you've read an Austen or two, and even more especially if you liked 'em.

Read the NYT review.

Shake Hands With the Devil
Romeo Dallaire
(not smiley appropriate)
Ok, here's the thing. I feel morally obligated to read this book. This book is well-written. This book scares the bejeezus outta me and I cannot open it right now. I've managed to read up to the end of the first day following the explosion of the President's plane. I know what's coming.

This book is an exercise in frustration. Every step of the way, Dallaire details the attempts he made to avert what was increasingly inevitable.

This book is a tear-jerker. I was sobbing by the end of his preface, for goodness sake.

This book is, above all, terrifying. The human race can be a cold, bloody-minded monstrous thing. Dallaire writes about a military observer's visits to Rwandan schools about a month before the genocide began:

"At one school, he noticed the teachers undertaking an administrative exercise: they were registering the ethnic identities of their pupils and seating them according to who was Tutsi and who was Hutu. This struck him as bizarre, since children in Rwanda were not require to carry identity cards. As he visited other schools, he discovered that the same procedure was taking place. We mistakenly assumed that this was just another example of ethnicity at play in Rwanda."

Recommended, but be prepared to feel compelled to hug small children at random.

If you have time, there's a transcript of an address by Romeo Dallaire to the Carnegie Council, as well as tons of other material - both pro and anti-Dallaire - widely available for perusal.

We managed to squeeze in three movies this past weekend; two on DVD and one at an actual cinema. So, in brief...

Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason
/5
Oh, what a dilemma. Sex with Hugh Grant vs sex with Colin Firth. What is a girl to do?
Funny moments, and Renee Zellweger, although she cannot walk (!!!) has her moments as a comic actress. I found Shirley Henderson distracting because of her role as Moaning Myrtle in the Harry Potter series (I have the same problem with Miriam Margolyes in the new Mystery! series).
Seriously, though, what is up with Zellweger and her inability to convincingly move like a human being?

Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl
/5
I did see this on the "big screen" ages ago, but since (a) Dr. T had not seen it and (b) it features Johnny Depp, who is on my list, I was happy to watch it again. Depp is perfect as Captain Jack Sparrow, and I was glad to have a second viewing, which helped me appreciate Jonathan Pryce's performance - altough Steve has ruined Jack Davenport for me.
In short, this is a fun movie with some easy-to-ignore plot problems (as Steve mentions, there's a presumably undead pirate underwater somewhere; also, Captain Jack is seen in his prison cell by moonlight near the beginning of the film, which in retrospect shouldn't have happened). It's Johnny Depp. All is forgiven.

...and finally...

The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
/5
Let me begin with my credentials - I have seen the really low-budget TV series, and own it on DVD. I have read the books - all of them - several times. I have heard the radio series that started it all. I have listened to the audio book, as read by the author. I have played - albeit rather unsuccessfully - the computer game. I know the answer, if not the question.
Having said that, it is my firm belief that you cannot be a HHGG purist - HHGG has existed in too many incarnations, and your first exposure to the series partly determines your appreciation. My parents, for instance, listened avidly to the radio series eons ago on CBC. Then they bought me the first book. My kids, however, know the TV series best.
There are many, many things that I liked about this movie - for instance, Zooey Deschanel is a much better Trillian than Sandra Dickinson was in the TV series; and I loved Mos Def's interpretation of Ford Prefect - he was just kind of, well, alien. Stephen Fry is lovely to listen to, and OH MY GOD Alan Rickman was made to be Marvin.
On the other hand, I was not thrilled with the romantic subplot - it's not vital to the story, and at the risk of contradicting myself and all that "can't be a purist" stuff, there's no record of such a romance in the other versions.
Nonetheless, I was very happy with this particular incarnation, as were Dr. T and the boys, both of whom very grown-upedly sat through the movie with us. Colin has already extracted a promise from us that we will get the DVD when it becomes available.
I originally set this at 3.5 stars - the extra star is partly for the Vogons, who were priceless, and partly for the opening sequence with the dolphins, which is worth... well, perhaps not the price of admission for four people at a downtown cinema on a Saturday afternoon, but close.

In the absence of actual, substantial, thoughtful reviews, may I offer the following bullet points:

Jasper Fforde's The Big Over Easy. Great book, fun to read, accessible, especially if you grew up with traditional English nursery rhymes, even more so if you're into detective fiction.

Bill Bryson's Made in America. Follow-up to his history of the English language in the mother country, this one looks at the evolution of American English. A former Brit living in the States, Bryson has personal experience as well as exhaustive research on his side. Gets a little repetitive and cursory at times. Definitely not as fun to read as A Short History of Nearly Everything, but not trash.

The IT Crowd. Newish UK sitcom. Geek humour - is there anything better?

Schick's Intuition razor. I've already converted Dina and my sister to the cause. No gel! No foam! No ouchies! It's fast, it's painless, it's shower-friendly and entirely manual (no power, therefore no power source required). Buy one and shave, dammit. You look like a gorilla.

Maybelline's new Lash Stylist mascara with the comb applicator. It sucks.

In the last few days, we have also managed to accumulate a few more CDs for the collection, including:

On An Island, David Gilmour. For diehard Gilmour/Floyd fans, this is a good album. Gilmour experiments a little, including a very bluesy sound on one track, but delivers the trademark Gilmour sound - especially on vocals and, of course, guitar. The best track for my taste is the title track, which is the first single. On the other hand, it took a couple of listenings for me to decide I really liked the song; the album as a whole strikes me as a 'grows on you' deal.

One motivating factor is price - we picked it up for $14, which for a new album from a very marketable name is a steal.

One complaint - the packaging. It's pretty, and somewhat innovative, but it does squat to actually protect the CD, it's not likely to stand up well under travel conditions (in the car, in a backpack, etc.) and it doesn't fit well or extract easily from the standard CD rack.

Chemical City, Sam Roberts. Aside from the sense of obligation as a Montrealer to support Sam Roberts, I really like the music. The first album, We Were Born in a Flame was great - each track sounds different, the lyrics are good, the music is catchy. Granted, there's nothing terribly alternative going on; the music is all MOR radio accessible. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

The new album starts with a great riff in the lead track, 'The Gate,' and continues on a similarly catchy, fun tone for the rest of the album. In keeping with the philosophy that included lyrics like 's-o-c-i-a-l-i-s-m is here to stay' on the first album, this one includes a track titled 'An American Draft Dodger in Thunder Bay.'

Not as cheap as the Gilmour album, but slightly more practical packaging (what the heck is wrong with the good ol' jewel case, anyway?). Both albums include the lyrics, which I always count as a plus.

Just to prove that my brain didn't atrophy over the last six weeks:

Just for Laughs gala with host Craig Ferguson:
I have never seen the Late, Late Show hosted by Ferguson, but I think I'll start PVR-ing it (for the technophobes, that's "taping" without the tapes). Ferguson is hilarious, and smart and dirty. My kind of guy, in other words. Best line - when the audience didn't react to his mention of his time in rehab, he said "no, no, it's a good thing - but you're all drunks, I gather. That's right, this is an intervention. Me against you. Canada, I'm worried about your drinking."

Highlight of the gala: Demetri Martin. I've seen his 'Trendspotting' bit on The Daily Show, and it's OK, but not pee-your-pants funny. Last night he was the funniest thing in the show. Then again, maybe that's because half his jokes are, apparently, written for English teachers. To whit: "I went shopping and I was trying stuff on and the salesperson said 'if you need anything, I'm Jill.' Wow, I thought - I've never met anyone with a conditional identity before. Who are you if I don't need anything?"

"If some one asks you if you're ticklish, it doesn't matter what you say - they are going to touch you."

And of course, the line that slayed me (and I think one other person in the whole place): "It's weird how 'finger puppet' is OK as a noun."

Vancouverite Tim Nutt was great, too, although his impact was dampened by the fact that the reviewer of another show gave away half his punchlines. Since I had no idea who was in the gala line-up, I didn't know not to read the review. Local guy Joey Elias looks amazing, 70 lbs lighter - and thanks to his diet, he has a whole lotta new material. Always good.

Saturday we're off to another gala, this time with host John Cleese, which brings me to review #2...

Wine for the Confused, with host John Cleese
DVD: This was a present from TB and Irene (along with a Jane Austen action figure (she comes with a writing desk and a quill pen)). Since our trip to the UK this winter, Dr. T and I have become wine afficianados. This DVD was good - it's essentially a two-part Food Network show in which Cleese and the cameraperson drive to a few vineyards near Cleese's house in California.

We did learn some interesting things about grapes and glasses and fermenting - and best of all, Cleese turned me on to Chardonnay. I am a red wine drinker, with a definite penchant for strong grapes, such as Shiraz. I have not been keen on whites since a rather unfortunate night in my teenage years. I have drunk whites when there's nothing else going - I typically quote Alberto Tomba on these occasions: 'white is what we drink when the red is gone.'

Cleese, though, managed to convince me that Chardonnay is the heavy hitter of the white grapes. So, based on that and on Malcolm Anderson's recent review of a couple of wines, I went off to the SAQ and picked up a few different Chardonnays. Favourite so far is the Toasted Head, which is kind of peachy, with a lot of vanilla and spice. The Beringer's Founder's Estate is OK, but not a must-have. We also liked the Oyster Bay from New Zealand.

We've also rediscovered rosés, thanks to Malcolm Anderson. He reviewed a Côte du Rhone recently, and said that it wasn't as sweet as rosés typically are, so we tried it and really liked it. Then we discovered that Jacob's Creek does a Shiraz rosé. Suffice it to say that we have a few bottles of that one tucked away for future consumption.

And finally...

Recommended Reading:

I blazed through three more Sophie Kinsella's: The Undomestic Goddess (thanks for the recommendations, Jessica and Pat), Confessions of a Shopaholic and Shopaholic Takes Manhattan. So far, this author is four for four. Every single book has been a one-nighter, because I can't put them down until I'm finished. As with the first one (Can You Keep a Secret), these three have their predictable moments; but frankly, I'm a sucker for a formula in the hands of an entertaining writer.

Speaking of entertaining writers, I finally bought Bill Bryson's A Walk in the Woods, and got through that pretty quickly, too. It's his story of his attempt to hike the Appalachian Trail from bottom to top, heavily interspersed with stories he's uncovered from hikers and historians. After the disappointment of Made in America, I was relieved to rediscover the Bryson that I loved in A Short History of Nearly Everything.

I also enjoyed:
Robertson Davies' Tempest Tost, a short Leacockesque novel about an amateur production of The Tempest;

Libby Purves' Mother Country, which relies on the old American vs British culture clash but which is worth reading, especially for the peripheral characters;

Nick Hornby's Polysyllabic Spree, which if nothing else made me feel a lot better about how many books I buy. Talk about confessions of a shopaholic!

I've been to see The Queen.

Helen Mirren is dour and spectacular as Elizabeth II, and James Cromwell is absolutely believable as Prince Philip. Sylvia Syms and Alex Jennings are less physically believable as the Queen Mother and Charles, respectively, but certainly capture the essence of their parts. If Helen McCrory's portrayal of Cherie Blair is true to life, then I must say the PM's wife is not very likeable.

Michael Sheen is Tony Blair - and I mean he is Blair. His lips were a shade too red, but otherwise Sheen embodies Blair as the young, optimistic, charismatic PM who has to drag the royals into the modern era, while maintaining a veneer of protocol at all times.

The movie is convincingly cut with television clips from the time - i.e., Diana's death in 1997 - and for me, part of the appeal of the film is reliving the emotions and events. It's hard to believe that this August will be the tenth anniversary of her death, and the intervening time has given us enough perspective to see just how massive was the reaction to her death.

I think that at the time, many people felt Diana's death and the subsequent reaction, both on the part of the royal family and that of the public, were defining - and redefining - moments for the monarchy. A decade later, however, not all that much has changed. The last few lines of the movie are thus prophetic, not only because Blair reassures the Queen that she and "the institution" will survive the anti-royal backlash that coloured the public sentiment in the first few days after Diana's death, but also because she warns him that one day, the public won't love him so unconditionally, either.

Above all, the movie showed a human side to the monarchy, and convincingly portrayed Elizabeth as a woman with a sense of humour. Also, it was kind of like watching The West Wing with nicer accents. Definite recommendation.

Oh, and in passing, if you haven't seen Stranger than Fiction, rent it. It's great.