While I am saddened to hear of the death of Davy Jones (sixty-five, heart attack) I'm stunned by how quickly the news reached #1 on the BBC's news feed.
In juxtaposition with Houston's death, Jones' life raises the long-standing problem of "what do you do when you reach fame by being a fresh faced kid and then grow up?" to which there are no easy answers. For every Natalie Wood there's a Matthew Waterhouse. Mickey Dolenz has successfully reinvented himself as an "adult" in entertainment, and I confess that I admire Wil Wheaton's evolution into maturity.
Jones seems to me to have floundered a bit here and there and managed to come out singing, but I'm sure the news feeds will tell us more all too soon.
Anyway, enjoy Davy's singing on Scooby-Doo.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Monday, February 13, 2012
women in their forties
I've read a couple of pieces lately which indicate that college educated women between the ages of thirty-five and forty are more likely to be married than high school educated women of the same age. Other articles have noted that thirty-five through forty-five are the ages when people are most likely to get divorced.
College educated women are more likely to remarry.
I've been thinking about what happens during these years in the last day or so because of the death of Whitney Houston. Houston, like Judy Garland, did not commit suicide, but certainly facilitated her own death through substance abuse linked with her own set of personal demons. Both women sought help, though I'd argue that Houston stood a better chance at long-term recovery because she came to substance abuse later in life and had a better support system around her, family and otherwise.
Perhaps inevitably people have drawn comparisons between Houston and Amy Winehouse; Winehouse died in time to fall into the "dead at twenty-seven" category that places her with so many other very talented musicians who died terribly young. I'd argue that it's the Garlands and Houstons we should look at more carefully.
Garland died at forty-seven, Houston at forty-eight. I think this is telling, and I've made a note to look for other women who fall in this category. For Winehouse and Hendrix we can say, "ah, how tragic, so young" but for these women the two additional decades produce more of interest. I'd also note that they both produced children whom they adored, thus "fulfilling" woman's traditional role. Did aging out of reproduction play a part in their addiction and demise?
Houston died less than a week after Madonna's Super Bowl extravaganza. I read a great deal of catty commentary about her age, most of it, I suspect, written by people who wouldn't last five minutes in her heels, let alone be able to dance through a twelve minute dance number. Madonna has always seemed to me quite canny. She's less of an artist than Garland or Houston, and I think she knows it. Certainly Madonna has filled her fair share of tabloid inches and has made some questionable choices, but allegations of excessive reliance upon drugs or alcohol are not among them. She stays in shape and, interestingly to me, adopted children when she passed child-bearing age - roughly the age of Houston and Garland.
I'm not claiming that motherhood is all that defines a woman and can keep her sane, not do I downplay the challenges to breaking an addiction at any age, but the contrast between these three women strikes me quite forcefully.
Oh, and for those of you who think Houston lacked talent, I present Whitney Houston's isolated vocal track on How Will I Know.
College educated women are more likely to remarry.
I've been thinking about what happens during these years in the last day or so because of the death of Whitney Houston. Houston, like Judy Garland, did not commit suicide, but certainly facilitated her own death through substance abuse linked with her own set of personal demons. Both women sought help, though I'd argue that Houston stood a better chance at long-term recovery because she came to substance abuse later in life and had a better support system around her, family and otherwise.
Perhaps inevitably people have drawn comparisons between Houston and Amy Winehouse; Winehouse died in time to fall into the "dead at twenty-seven" category that places her with so many other very talented musicians who died terribly young. I'd argue that it's the Garlands and Houstons we should look at more carefully.
Garland died at forty-seven, Houston at forty-eight. I think this is telling, and I've made a note to look for other women who fall in this category. For Winehouse and Hendrix we can say, "ah, how tragic, so young" but for these women the two additional decades produce more of interest. I'd also note that they both produced children whom they adored, thus "fulfilling" woman's traditional role. Did aging out of reproduction play a part in their addiction and demise?
Houston died less than a week after Madonna's Super Bowl extravaganza. I read a great deal of catty commentary about her age, most of it, I suspect, written by people who wouldn't last five minutes in her heels, let alone be able to dance through a twelve minute dance number. Madonna has always seemed to me quite canny. She's less of an artist than Garland or Houston, and I think she knows it. Certainly Madonna has filled her fair share of tabloid inches and has made some questionable choices, but allegations of excessive reliance upon drugs or alcohol are not among them. She stays in shape and, interestingly to me, adopted children when she passed child-bearing age - roughly the age of Houston and Garland.
I'm not claiming that motherhood is all that defines a woman and can keep her sane, not do I downplay the challenges to breaking an addiction at any age, but the contrast between these three women strikes me quite forcefully.
Oh, and for those of you who think Houston lacked talent, I present Whitney Houston's isolated vocal track on How Will I Know.
Monday, February 06, 2012
A Song From Your Childhood
For all that I cannot read music, I grew up with a fair amount of music around me - well, music composed prior to about 1960. I'm a killer with musicals and learned a fair amount of folk music as a youth, though my parents missed the Beatles, so I did, too.
My knowledge of Disco was limited to Sesame Street. Wait, bear with me.
The disco version of Rubber Duckie is, may I say so, a true moment of musical greatness.
Think about it. "Rubber Duckie" is one of those songs that can be reliably cross-referenced in almost any setting and people will know at least some of it. Even kids whose parents held nothing but rabid hatred of PBS and all for which it stands could not possibly have escaped life without hearing this tune, and that goes double or nothing if your parents are college educated and placed strict limits on your television viewing.
(I will never understand why I could watch wildebeests getting devoured by lions on Nova but not Mork & Mindy. I will never understand this thought process. I'm not even sure that they'd seen the show; it aired on commercial television and that was enough.)
The creators of Sesame Street for my generation recognized that parents, older siblings, babysitters, etc. would end up watching the shows, at least in passing, with the toddlers. The occasional "late night special" included plenty of nods to this audience. For one special, shot ~1970, the cast got locked into the Met for the night. (Just try making a show with that premise that post 9/11. There's not a kid in New York, let alone by isolated rural town, who would buy it.)
Titled "Don't Eat the Pictures" (a name later used by the Met for an exhibit)the story is a hoot and a half even to me as an adult. Cookie Monster sings: the title track , which I loved as a kid and still sing in museums.
Don't even get me started with Mr. Rodgers...
My knowledge of Disco was limited to Sesame Street. Wait, bear with me.
The disco version of Rubber Duckie is, may I say so, a true moment of musical greatness.
Think about it. "Rubber Duckie" is one of those songs that can be reliably cross-referenced in almost any setting and people will know at least some of it. Even kids whose parents held nothing but rabid hatred of PBS and all for which it stands could not possibly have escaped life without hearing this tune, and that goes double or nothing if your parents are college educated and placed strict limits on your television viewing.
(I will never understand why I could watch wildebeests getting devoured by lions on Nova but not Mork & Mindy. I will never understand this thought process. I'm not even sure that they'd seen the show; it aired on commercial television and that was enough.)
The creators of Sesame Street for my generation recognized that parents, older siblings, babysitters, etc. would end up watching the shows, at least in passing, with the toddlers. The occasional "late night special" included plenty of nods to this audience. For one special, shot ~1970, the cast got locked into the Met for the night. (Just try making a show with that premise that post 9/11. There's not a kid in New York, let alone by isolated rural town, who would buy it.)
Titled "Don't Eat the Pictures" (a name later used by the Met for an exhibit)the story is a hoot and a half even to me as an adult. Cookie Monster sings: the title track , which I loved as a kid and still sing in museums.
Don't even get me started with Mr. Rodgers...
Thursday, February 02, 2012
Monday, January 16, 2012
Cleopatra: A Life
Cleopatra: A Life by Stacy Schiff Little, Brown & Co; 2010
Opinions on this book seem quite divided within our group. We all seem to have taken an informal approach to it, so I will join in that vein. ("Baaa, baa," I hear you cry. Cleo trained to be a ruthless and clever schemer; I trained to make intellectual comments about the development of their romance novel over a thirty year period.)
Some of us disliked the speculative nature of this book. I didn't mind that angle at all, particularly given that, as Schiff notes, it's difficult to preserve papyrus and Alexandria is underwater. With the passage of time and the handicap of history written by victors, a paucity of direct and flattering information on Cleopatra is inevitable at best. ("[T]he turncoats wrote the history." page 297) To my mind, Schiff did an excellent job at presenting the culture around Cleopatra; she even managed to make me interested in the many intersections between political, personal and family power over the years.
Perhaps it is my love of mystery novels that slants my bias, but I enjoyed reading what Schiff could tease out from the narratives of Cleopatra's enemies toward presenting multiple possible motivations and opinions. That which the turncoats wrote guarantees that many layers of myth could and did build up, which makes what lies beneath all the more interesting to me. I am not left persuaded that Cleopatra harbored any deep emotional affection for Mark Antony, Taylor/ Burton/ Shakespeare be damned, but I do come away persuaded that she understood Antony far better than perhaps anyone else in her life.
I'm most struck, though I'm not sure Schiff intended this, by the immense lack of privacy in Cleopatra's life. Obviously the standards for privacy two thousand years ago for a woman born a goddess differ quite a bit from my own in 2012, but to have one's every moment known widely abroad, and almost certainly used as a weapon later on, must have taken an immense toll upon Cleopatra and her contemporaries. The need for large-scale public demonstration of status to as to maintain that position eliminated a certain amount of security.
In a perfect world, I could assign Chapter IX, "The Wickedest Woman In History" to a wide audience. Schiff delineates the ways in which a life gets recast and revised (reshaped, etc.) to fulfill particular agendas that change over time. In an era when we keep being promised "unbiased" news, Schiff offers a healthy reminder.
I grew up with an image of Cleopatra as a clever and capable ruler, one who killed to preserve her own status and one who took life on her own terms; I admired this. It was disconcerting to learn later on about "evil Cleopatra" she who slept around, seduced "innocent" men like Caesar and all of that therein. Elizabeth Taylor might have sullied Cleopatra for a generation, but I have to ask how many people who might sneer at Cleopatra today have seen Taylor in the role. Most of the people I meet read Shakespeare only in high school, and they read one of the tragedies, or possiblyA Midsummer Night's Dream. In my biased opinion, Cleopatra primarily lives on in pop culture as Queen of Egypt, rather than as Shakespeare and his kith saw her. Example: she gets a passing reference, with the implication that she's a desirable woman whom the Doctor knows well in the new series of Doctor Who.
To be remembered as a ruler, beautiful and brilliant, with the men of her life a bit vague, is pretty good for a woman whose deeds live on through the words of the turncoats.
Opinions on this book seem quite divided within our group. We all seem to have taken an informal approach to it, so I will join in that vein. ("Baaa, baa," I hear you cry. Cleo trained to be a ruthless and clever schemer; I trained to make intellectual comments about the development of their romance novel over a thirty year period.)
Some of us disliked the speculative nature of this book. I didn't mind that angle at all, particularly given that, as Schiff notes, it's difficult to preserve papyrus and Alexandria is underwater. With the passage of time and the handicap of history written by victors, a paucity of direct and flattering information on Cleopatra is inevitable at best. ("[T]he turncoats wrote the history." page 297) To my mind, Schiff did an excellent job at presenting the culture around Cleopatra; she even managed to make me interested in the many intersections between political, personal and family power over the years.
Perhaps it is my love of mystery novels that slants my bias, but I enjoyed reading what Schiff could tease out from the narratives of Cleopatra's enemies toward presenting multiple possible motivations and opinions. That which the turncoats wrote guarantees that many layers of myth could and did build up, which makes what lies beneath all the more interesting to me. I am not left persuaded that Cleopatra harbored any deep emotional affection for Mark Antony, Taylor/ Burton/ Shakespeare be damned, but I do come away persuaded that she understood Antony far better than perhaps anyone else in her life.
I'm most struck, though I'm not sure Schiff intended this, by the immense lack of privacy in Cleopatra's life. Obviously the standards for privacy two thousand years ago for a woman born a goddess differ quite a bit from my own in 2012, but to have one's every moment known widely abroad, and almost certainly used as a weapon later on, must have taken an immense toll upon Cleopatra and her contemporaries. The need for large-scale public demonstration of status to as to maintain that position eliminated a certain amount of security.
In a perfect world, I could assign Chapter IX, "The Wickedest Woman In History" to a wide audience. Schiff delineates the ways in which a life gets recast and revised (reshaped, etc.) to fulfill particular agendas that change over time. In an era when we keep being promised "unbiased" news, Schiff offers a healthy reminder.
I grew up with an image of Cleopatra as a clever and capable ruler, one who killed to preserve her own status and one who took life on her own terms; I admired this. It was disconcerting to learn later on about "evil Cleopatra" she who slept around, seduced "innocent" men like Caesar and all of that therein. Elizabeth Taylor might have sullied Cleopatra for a generation, but I have to ask how many people who might sneer at Cleopatra today have seen Taylor in the role. Most of the people I meet read Shakespeare only in high school, and they read one of the tragedies, or possiblyA Midsummer Night's Dream. In my biased opinion, Cleopatra primarily lives on in pop culture as Queen of Egypt, rather than as Shakespeare and his kith saw her. Example: she gets a passing reference, with the implication that she's a desirable woman whom the Doctor knows well in the new series of Doctor Who.
To be remembered as a ruler, beautiful and brilliant, with the men of her life a bit vague, is pretty good for a woman whose deeds live on through the words of the turncoats.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
A Song You Wish You Could Play
I'm not sure how this differs from the previous topics, but I hate to give up so close to the end.
As I've said, I am not particularly talented at any musical instrument, but I've already had to ponder what I would play if I could play an instrument... so I suppose this topic is supposed to be a piece of music suited to something I can play that I just can't perform.
I started singing in the church choir when I was six and I've sung in a variety of different capacities since then. As more than one person has told me, sometimes kindly and sometimes not so kindly, I cannot read music and I audition terribly, which definitely limited the experiences I could have that might possibly have, you know, improved my ability to read music and perform better at auditions. There's nothing wrong with my voice (and I did have the lead in the high school musical, thank you very much) (the director knew I could sing, just not audition) but it's been next to impossible to find a situation in which I didn't have to audition but would be pushed enough to learn.
About two years ago, I switched congregations and joined the church choir. This I do not say lightly, on either point. The church appealed in part because I wanted a place with strong solid music, and I spent several months listening to the choir and thinking that there was absolutely no way that I would ever be able to pant behind the group, let alone keep up. Note that I joined *after* Christmas and well before Easter; I thought I would escape challenges for a while. Ha! They threw me into Evensong rehearsals right away.
This choir is hard core, work you hard, push you harder and then give you an extra shove. Because God is kind, the woman who sits next to me teaches music to grade schoolers. With a great deal of patience (I marvel at how many times she is able to calmly remind me of the same basic principles of music theory) I am slowly but surely learning stuff I wish I'd learned at six or sixteen or even twenty-six. I can often, though not always, hear a chord, and where I fit in it. I know what's a crunchy chord and why they can be good. When I mess up I am more likely to know that I have messed up, though that's not to say that I get it right the next time through.
By the by, I should say that this choir laughs a lot and that it's a really incredible group of people. All of this work is fun (work, but fun) because of them, and the director works hard to keep it that way.
Last year, because this is a hard core choir, we did Bogoroditse Devo as part of Christmas. Yes, that is High Church Slovonic. Yes, it is a bear of a piece, and we sang it about twice as fast. Really. Last year, I would have listed this piece as my goal, the Song I Wish I Could Sing.
We did it again this year - with the help of the endlessly patient teacher, I did it. Ha! Take that, High Church Slovonic sadists!
I suppose that my goal this year is to approach a Mag & Nunc, any Mag & Nunc, without fear and trembling. 'cos they last a lot longer...
As I've said, I am not particularly talented at any musical instrument, but I've already had to ponder what I would play if I could play an instrument... so I suppose this topic is supposed to be a piece of music suited to something I can play that I just can't perform.
I started singing in the church choir when I was six and I've sung in a variety of different capacities since then. As more than one person has told me, sometimes kindly and sometimes not so kindly, I cannot read music and I audition terribly, which definitely limited the experiences I could have that might possibly have, you know, improved my ability to read music and perform better at auditions. There's nothing wrong with my voice (and I did have the lead in the high school musical, thank you very much) (the director knew I could sing, just not audition) but it's been next to impossible to find a situation in which I didn't have to audition but would be pushed enough to learn.
About two years ago, I switched congregations and joined the church choir. This I do not say lightly, on either point. The church appealed in part because I wanted a place with strong solid music, and I spent several months listening to the choir and thinking that there was absolutely no way that I would ever be able to pant behind the group, let alone keep up. Note that I joined *after* Christmas and well before Easter; I thought I would escape challenges for a while. Ha! They threw me into Evensong rehearsals right away.
This choir is hard core, work you hard, push you harder and then give you an extra shove. Because God is kind, the woman who sits next to me teaches music to grade schoolers. With a great deal of patience (I marvel at how many times she is able to calmly remind me of the same basic principles of music theory) I am slowly but surely learning stuff I wish I'd learned at six or sixteen or even twenty-six. I can often, though not always, hear a chord, and where I fit in it. I know what's a crunchy chord and why they can be good. When I mess up I am more likely to know that I have messed up, though that's not to say that I get it right the next time through.
By the by, I should say that this choir laughs a lot and that it's a really incredible group of people. All of this work is fun (work, but fun) because of them, and the director works hard to keep it that way.
Last year, because this is a hard core choir, we did Bogoroditse Devo as part of Christmas. Yes, that is High Church Slovonic. Yes, it is a bear of a piece, and we sang it about twice as fast. Really. Last year, I would have listed this piece as my goal, the Song I Wish I Could Sing.
We did it again this year - with the help of the endlessly patient teacher, I did it. Ha! Take that, High Church Slovonic sadists!
I suppose that my goal this year is to approach a Mag & Nunc, any Mag & Nunc, without fear and trembling. 'cos they last a lot longer...
Monday, December 12, 2011
A Song Your Wish You Could Play On an Instrument
I come to the conclusion that as this meme wore on, many people grew tired. I base this assumption on the many titles I have seen for today's question.
Despite effort and hopes, I am a terrible instrumentalist. To quote a report, I "lack subtlety, have no sense of emotion and play piano as though attacking the keys."
Ouch.
Anyway, were I able to play the piano, I would tackle either part (two pianos) to the Overture to the Fantastiks.
Despite effort and hopes, I am a terrible instrumentalist. To quote a report, I "lack subtlety, have no sense of emotion and play piano as though attacking the keys."
Ouch.
Anyway, were I able to play the piano, I would tackle either part (two pianos) to the Overture to the Fantastiks.
Wednesday, November 30, 2011
a song you can play on an instrument
Back when Jimmy Cater was president, I took recorder lessons. I wish I'd stuck with them - recorders are lightweight, can be safely broken down into many pieces, and they make a cool noise. I moved on to the clarinet, at which I was pretty lousy, and my feeble attempt to learn piano in college merited only snickers and pity. (Musical subtlety is not my talent.) A year ago I held a clarinet again after twenty seven years and I didn't remember where to put my fingers.
However, I still remember all of the theme to Star Wars on the recorder, and play it when no one else can hear me.
I've also been known to play a little J.S. Bach Anna Magdalena Notebook but only when I cannot be heard.
However, I still remember all of the theme to Star Wars on the recorder, and play it when no one else can hear me.
I've also been known to play a little J.S. Bach Anna Magdalena Notebook but only when I cannot be heard.
Monday, November 21, 2011
mortality
Bill died.
Bill had cancer, beat it and treated every moment afterward as a gift. Bill wasn't the type to take up sky-diving or try to bed as many blondes as possible. Bill ate good meals, watched multitudes of documentaries, and enjoyed needling all of us.
The cancer came back. I didn't hear from him. I knew it was coming. I still wasn't ready.
You rested on your laurels at your own expense - Bill knew no respect. Bill's redemption? He knew that sometimes a person [b]believes[/b] and there is no justification; you believe with every fiber of your being. Bill held that in highest esteem. He pushed everyone, and he rewarded those who pushed back; he esteemed those who put their beliefs into deeds. He worked me harder than any other student ever will.
Since he did not believe in a higher power, I will not pray or light candles for Bill, though I wish him peace. I will miss saying, "yes, you think Zinn is wrong, but you need to know what he [i]says[/i] and Bill agreeing that I might be forty years younger than he, but that I'm right, liberals can be thoughtful, and that he should think about issues all the way through to present day, be it current events or tobacco planting in 1610.
Also his chicken recipe. It's tasty.
Damnit.
Bill had cancer, beat it and treated every moment afterward as a gift. Bill wasn't the type to take up sky-diving or try to bed as many blondes as possible. Bill ate good meals, watched multitudes of documentaries, and enjoyed needling all of us.
The cancer came back. I didn't hear from him. I knew it was coming. I still wasn't ready.
You rested on your laurels at your own expense - Bill knew no respect. Bill's redemption? He knew that sometimes a person [b]believes[/b] and there is no justification; you believe with every fiber of your being. Bill held that in highest esteem. He pushed everyone, and he rewarded those who pushed back; he esteemed those who put their beliefs into deeds. He worked me harder than any other student ever will.
Since he did not believe in a higher power, I will not pray or light candles for Bill, though I wish him peace. I will miss saying, "yes, you think Zinn is wrong, but you need to know what he [i]says[/i] and Bill agreeing that I might be forty years younger than he, but that I'm right, liberals can be thoughtful, and that he should think about issues all the way through to present day, be it current events or tobacco planting in 1610.
Also his chicken recipe. It's tasty.
Damnit.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
review of Cold Comfort Farm
Review for the Invisible Friends Book Club -
While reading Cold Comfort Farm last night (it’s a good ‘one sitting’ book) I had a nagging feeling that the storyline and the main character, Flora, reminded me very strongly of another book and protagonist, but couldn’t quiet pin it down.
This morning, I realized – author Stella Gibbons is taking a leaf out of Patrick Dennis’ classic (In My Humble Opinion, and this is my blog) novel Auntie Mame.. For those of you whom haven’t read Mame and, no, the movie and the travesty of a movie musical are not the same, Dennis’ novel starts with the narrator reading a piece about an Unforgettable Character. The Unforgettable Character is generally a maiden aunt, gray haired and sweet, who suddenly acquires a baby, whom she then raises while facing a series of life challenges. Each chapter of Mame opens with an update on what the typical Unforgettable Character would do when faced with a challenge (unemployment, wartime, impending marriage of loved one, etc.) that would somehow make everything work out splendidly.
Naturally, Dennis’ heroine, Mame, is faced with challenges and meets them, but always in over-the-top style, her subtlety often shrouded in camp and dramatic flair, but all is right in the end and Mame’s wisdom proven yet again. (I think this was also the plot-line used for most episodes of the sit-com Cybil but I digress. Both Gibbons and Dennis did it better.)
Gibbons gives her readers an Unforgettable Character, in this case the nearly penniless and orphaned Flora. Flora, unwilling to take up a trade, elects to approach her nearest relatives for a home. Most Unforgettable Characters would appeal to such relations in a spirit of humility, mercy and desperation. Flora? She’s far more practical, almost mercenary, about this approach.
“I am only nineteen, but I have observed that while there is still some foolish prejudice against living on one’s friends, it is perfectly respectable to ask one’s relations to provide one with a one. Now I am peculiarly (I think if you could see some of them, you would agree that is the correct word) rich in relations, on both sides of the family.” (page19)
Naturally it is the dullest of her relations who offer to take Flora in, with the lone mysterious note that something that will never be told happened such that the family owes her a favor. The family turns out to be quite peculiar (milking cows in their sleep) and live in peculiar circumstances and in a peculiar house, surrounded by peculiar neighbors and a peculiar town. Everyone has an unmet need, and Flora, who feels that she is adept at creating order from chaos, sets about meeting each one in eccentric fashion. Note: she does take the precautionary measure of asking a friend to send her boots.
The Mame meme continues – from the names of the livestock to Gibbons’ manufactured bits of Sussex dialogue, Gibbons is determined to make the reader laugh along and recognize satire and, moreover, to enjoy them. Dennis would have approved, and Cold Comfort Farm is an enjoyable read, but I have to say that I think Dennis did it better. I never did figure out why so many people in Sussex did as Flora told them. Mame used her charm, her wealth and her love; Flora arrived at Cold Comfort Farm and immediately started bossing people about. Did they obey out of habit?
One aspect that drove me wild with frustration is that Gibbons gives no indication as to when this story is set. She would drop in a hint and I’d do some quick math, only to learn a few pages later that my guess had to be off by several decades, if not centuries.
This is a thoroughly enjoyable book, I hasten to add, a really great romp, and I think that the best bits are the woodcut illustrations throughout the book. The one on page 44 “There’s no butter in hell!” (great line) looks like something from Lewis Carroll, but reminded me most of Uncle Andrew in The Magician's Nephew.
While reading Cold Comfort Farm last night (it’s a good ‘one sitting’ book) I had a nagging feeling that the storyline and the main character, Flora, reminded me very strongly of another book and protagonist, but couldn’t quiet pin it down.
This morning, I realized – author Stella Gibbons is taking a leaf out of Patrick Dennis’ classic (In My Humble Opinion, and this is my blog) novel Auntie Mame.. For those of you whom haven’t read Mame and, no, the movie and the travesty of a movie musical are not the same, Dennis’ novel starts with the narrator reading a piece about an Unforgettable Character. The Unforgettable Character is generally a maiden aunt, gray haired and sweet, who suddenly acquires a baby, whom she then raises while facing a series of life challenges. Each chapter of Mame opens with an update on what the typical Unforgettable Character would do when faced with a challenge (unemployment, wartime, impending marriage of loved one, etc.) that would somehow make everything work out splendidly.
Naturally, Dennis’ heroine, Mame, is faced with challenges and meets them, but always in over-the-top style, her subtlety often shrouded in camp and dramatic flair, but all is right in the end and Mame’s wisdom proven yet again. (I think this was also the plot-line used for most episodes of the sit-com Cybil but I digress. Both Gibbons and Dennis did it better.)
Gibbons gives her readers an Unforgettable Character, in this case the nearly penniless and orphaned Flora. Flora, unwilling to take up a trade, elects to approach her nearest relatives for a home. Most Unforgettable Characters would appeal to such relations in a spirit of humility, mercy and desperation. Flora? She’s far more practical, almost mercenary, about this approach.
“I am only nineteen, but I have observed that while there is still some foolish prejudice against living on one’s friends, it is perfectly respectable to ask one’s relations to provide one with a one. Now I am peculiarly (I think if you could see some of them, you would agree that is the correct word) rich in relations, on both sides of the family.” (page19)
Naturally it is the dullest of her relations who offer to take Flora in, with the lone mysterious note that something that will never be told happened such that the family owes her a favor. The family turns out to be quite peculiar (milking cows in their sleep) and live in peculiar circumstances and in a peculiar house, surrounded by peculiar neighbors and a peculiar town. Everyone has an unmet need, and Flora, who feels that she is adept at creating order from chaos, sets about meeting each one in eccentric fashion. Note: she does take the precautionary measure of asking a friend to send her boots.
The Mame meme continues – from the names of the livestock to Gibbons’ manufactured bits of Sussex dialogue, Gibbons is determined to make the reader laugh along and recognize satire and, moreover, to enjoy them. Dennis would have approved, and Cold Comfort Farm is an enjoyable read, but I have to say that I think Dennis did it better. I never did figure out why so many people in Sussex did as Flora told them. Mame used her charm, her wealth and her love; Flora arrived at Cold Comfort Farm and immediately started bossing people about. Did they obey out of habit?
One aspect that drove me wild with frustration is that Gibbons gives no indication as to when this story is set. She would drop in a hint and I’d do some quick math, only to learn a few pages later that my guess had to be off by several decades, if not centuries.
This is a thoroughly enjoyable book, I hasten to add, a really great romp, and I think that the best bits are the woodcut illustrations throughout the book. The one on page 44 “There’s no butter in hell!” (great line) looks like something from Lewis Carroll, but reminded me most of Uncle Andrew in The Magician's Nephew.
Thursday, November 03, 2011
A Song That Makes You Laugh
Plenty of music makes me smile. A song that makes me laugh is trickier - I love a good laugh, but Eddie Izzard doesn't sing.
Note: I have watched this Izzard routine over and over and over and it cracks me up every single time.
I haven't heard Gimme That Old Time Religion since my freshman year of college, but I still laugh at:
Let us pray with Aphrodite
let us pray with Aphrodite
She wears that see-through nightie
and it's good enough for me
We will pray with Zarathustra
we'll pray just like we usta
I'm a Zarathustra boosta
and it's good enough for me.
We will pray with those old Druids
They drink fermented fluids
running amuck in the woo-oods
and it's good enough for me.
I know who played me the LP of this song that I liked, but no idea who sang it. I'll have to ask him for details one of these days. (Um, yeah) Ah, the man who got away... wait, that's a different song.
Note: I have watched this Izzard routine over and over and over and it cracks me up every single time.
I haven't heard Gimme That Old Time Religion since my freshman year of college, but I still laugh at:
Let us pray with Aphrodite
let us pray with Aphrodite
She wears that see-through nightie
and it's good enough for me
We will pray with Zarathustra
we'll pray just like we usta
I'm a Zarathustra boosta
and it's good enough for me.
We will pray with those old Druids
They drink fermented fluids
running amuck in the woo-oods
and it's good enough for me.
I know who played me the LP of this song that I liked, but no idea who sang it. I'll have to ask him for details one of these days. (Um, yeah) Ah, the man who got away... wait, that's a different song.
Sunday, October 09, 2011
A Song You Want to Play at Your Funeral
I do not wish to play any song at my funeral.
First of all, I will be dead, and thus in no condition to perform in any capacity as relates to music.
Second, though I do like music, I'd rather have someone else perform. Preferably this person or persons would be good enough to raise a tear or two, and inspire people to say, "gosh, this church has some nice tunes." A lot of the people I would hope would consider attending my funeral aren't really church-goers, so I'd ideally get to share with them some of why I am.
Sheesh, but I sound preachy: sorry.
For the sake of argument, I'll assume that the question's intent is, "what song would you choose to have performed at your funeral?"
Serious answer: lots of good, loud, chestnut-style hymns. I tend to like some of the quirky ones ("Come Labor On" "God is Working His Purpose Out") that not a lot of folks know and fewer like. I want this music to be fun and moving for those who sing it yes, congregation, I mean you) so something such as For All the Saints, which goes on for many verses, would be ideal.
Note: I picked this YouTube version because it's a kid playing with mastery of the instrument, and you can his see feet and hands: way cool, very well done.
OK, so the funeral is over and some of my loved ones have no desire to set foot in a sacred space again - what now? Something pretty and soft, please - maybe a little Mozart.
First of all, I will be dead, and thus in no condition to perform in any capacity as relates to music.
Second, though I do like music, I'd rather have someone else perform. Preferably this person or persons would be good enough to raise a tear or two, and inspire people to say, "gosh, this church has some nice tunes." A lot of the people I would hope would consider attending my funeral aren't really church-goers, so I'd ideally get to share with them some of why I am.
Sheesh, but I sound preachy: sorry.
For the sake of argument, I'll assume that the question's intent is, "what song would you choose to have performed at your funeral?"
Serious answer: lots of good, loud, chestnut-style hymns. I tend to like some of the quirky ones ("Come Labor On" "God is Working His Purpose Out") that not a lot of folks know and fewer like. I want this music to be fun and moving for those who sing it yes, congregation, I mean you) so something such as For All the Saints, which goes on for many verses, would be ideal.
Note: I picked this YouTube version because it's a kid playing with mastery of the instrument, and you can his see feet and hands: way cool, very well done.
OK, so the funeral is over and some of my loved ones have no desire to set foot in a sacred space again - what now? Something pretty and soft, please - maybe a little Mozart.
Monday, October 03, 2011
A Song Your Want Played at Your Wedding
I know it's trite, but I love The Widor Toccata which, I know is properly known as the fifth movement. Don't get me wrong, I am a geek enough to know that the whole piece rocks, but I love this bit. If I had a long enough train, a huge bouquet and a grin the size of Belgium on my face, this would be my recessional.
However, I am a coward.
However, I am a coward.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
A Song You Listen To When You Are Sad
I think the real question is, why are you listening to music whilst feeling sad?
If the answer is that you hope the music will improve your mood, then I choose something loud and obnoxious, such as:
Dancing With Myself because after a few moments of sentimentality for fraternity parties when I was in college and could stay up dancing until 3 AM, I'm laughing too hard to be sad.
Cast parties often last until well after 3 AM, but the music usually got turned off by then - except for the years when we could party in the theater, but that's another story that I won;t post on-line.
If, on the other hand, you want to have a really good wallow, sob for a bit and feel generally morose, then:
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas a family trying to be brave and feeling that all is lost. This is maudlin well done, and never fails to make me cry.
P.S. I maintain that I have shown great courage in holding off on Judy Garland this long.
If the answer is that you hope the music will improve your mood, then I choose something loud and obnoxious, such as:
Dancing With Myself because after a few moments of sentimentality for fraternity parties when I was in college and could stay up dancing until 3 AM, I'm laughing too hard to be sad.
Cast parties often last until well after 3 AM, but the music usually got turned off by then - except for the years when we could party in the theater, but that's another story that I won;t post on-line.
If, on the other hand, you want to have a really good wallow, sob for a bit and feel generally morose, then:
Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas a family trying to be brave and feeling that all is lost. This is maudlin well done, and never fails to make me cry.
P.S. I maintain that I have shown great courage in holding off on Judy Garland this long.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
"The Help" - book club observations
Our Invisible Friends Book Club has been reading The Help over the last few weeks. As per the rules of the club, here are my thoughts -
The Help: A Novel by Kathryn Stockett - Penguin - 2009
For the record, the waiting list at my local library was quite long, but my church library had a copy. As I say to the people who dislike the Harry Potter series, hey, at least people are reading something with plot and vocabulary words.
My apologies if I run on too long, but I have a lot to say... what else is new?
I fully expected Help to be a very readable story, told in a strong narrative voice, with attention paid to presenting the different points if view of each character. In this, I'd argue that Stockett succeeded in spades. It was very easy to follow the different points of view and understandings of a certain situation or relationship, and she did a great job at referring back to certain moments from time to time to let us see how they played out for different levels.
I also expected a few of the usual stereotypes to fall into play - I admit that I read a lot about this novel in People magazine and almost as much about the movie - with the clueless white woman, the nasty white woman, the tough African-American, the maid with a heart of gold, etc. I think Stockett did a good job at trying to make them multi-faceted, but the basic tropes still held.
That having been said, I think it's entirely possible to write novels that run the same tropes over and over again and do it well. To my mind, the romance novelist Victoria Holt did this brilliantly. One can use a formula over and over again with twists and keep it fresh.
My first problem with Help is that the formula didn't have twists. Stockett executed it well, but I anticipated every single one. Maybe this is due to my having read too much chick lit (I have another theory, but more on that in a second) but even if I hadn't read People I could have anticipated every piece of this plot from the get go. Now, is this a negative vote? Not necessarily - remember that Victoria Holt is predictable - but I did keep waiting for a surprise.
My second problem has less to do with Stockett than with the need that she is trying to address and some questions that I think she leaves unexplored.
1) Need - as a history teacher, I bang my head into my hands every day against the ignorance people have about American History. Stockett is making an admirable effort, with hindsight as 20-20, to shake people out of complacency about issues of race in the 50s and 60s - some of which endure. (Illegally employed nannies, anyone?) I think some (not all) Americans are finally able to look at the separate toilets issue as silly, but we're repeating it with headscarves today.
I've never lived in the south, but I have lived in apartments in Chicago that were designed with tiny bedrooms and attached bathrooms for the maid. Full bathrooms.
2)OK, speaking of history, here's where I think Stockett misses a truly amazing opportunity. She sets up the character of Minny as a well-intentioned but blunt woman who stays in an unhappy marriage because she has a man and that's status. She should have mentioned or referenced the findings of Daniel Patrick Moynihan's report on The Negro Family and how the single parent (and grandparent) households' experiences and needs tied in with the events of the book. The Federal Government did a lot to encourage single mother households - unintentionally, but the legacy dates back to the Great depression. (If you want a bibliography, I can oblige.)
Yes, I am demanding more. If this is a novel with a history lesson to people who hated high school history class, more history needs to be presented. DPM's committee's observations should have been pushed further forward.
OK, really, I'm almost done.
This group is a lot of fun to me because we bring a huge array of reading backgrounds - we all love books, but we have different preferences. Though I have compared Help to Holt's novels, I have to throw in the caveat that I kept hoping that this would be an Agatha Christie style text. Where Holt throws twists, if you read a lot of Christie, you discover that she throws tornadoes. I was hoping for a storm, but it never came.
I would love to listen to a panel of Stockett and Sharyn McCrumb, - McCrumb writes mysteries with many of the same issues Stockett addresses, but with a more deft hand. McCrumb addresses alcoholism, race and bias very well. What I think the two have in common is that they both examine the pecking order that starts so young and lasts a lifetime. We may pretend that the popular kids and the bullies don't win, but they do hold immense sway, particularly in small communities. I do not say towns, I say communities. Even in 2011, the game of knowing to whom you must be polite, with whom you must flirt, with whom you must be docile, etc. is still very much with us, "late and soon" and I do think that Stockett nails this angle.
All in all, I'd call this a mixed bag. The plot is predictable, but the narrative is engaging. There are missed opportunities, but the mantra that one lives on in the love and example set for children is truly awesome.
The Help: A Novel by Kathryn Stockett - Penguin - 2009
For the record, the waiting list at my local library was quite long, but my church library had a copy. As I say to the people who dislike the Harry Potter series, hey, at least people are reading something with plot and vocabulary words.
My apologies if I run on too long, but I have a lot to say... what else is new?
I fully expected Help to be a very readable story, told in a strong narrative voice, with attention paid to presenting the different points if view of each character. In this, I'd argue that Stockett succeeded in spades. It was very easy to follow the different points of view and understandings of a certain situation or relationship, and she did a great job at referring back to certain moments from time to time to let us see how they played out for different levels.
I also expected a few of the usual stereotypes to fall into play - I admit that I read a lot about this novel in People magazine and almost as much about the movie - with the clueless white woman, the nasty white woman, the tough African-American, the maid with a heart of gold, etc. I think Stockett did a good job at trying to make them multi-faceted, but the basic tropes still held.
That having been said, I think it's entirely possible to write novels that run the same tropes over and over again and do it well. To my mind, the romance novelist Victoria Holt did this brilliantly. One can use a formula over and over again with twists and keep it fresh.
My first problem with Help is that the formula didn't have twists. Stockett executed it well, but I anticipated every single one. Maybe this is due to my having read too much chick lit (I have another theory, but more on that in a second) but even if I hadn't read People I could have anticipated every piece of this plot from the get go. Now, is this a negative vote? Not necessarily - remember that Victoria Holt is predictable - but I did keep waiting for a surprise.
My second problem has less to do with Stockett than with the need that she is trying to address and some questions that I think she leaves unexplored.
1) Need - as a history teacher, I bang my head into my hands every day against the ignorance people have about American History. Stockett is making an admirable effort, with hindsight as 20-20, to shake people out of complacency about issues of race in the 50s and 60s - some of which endure. (Illegally employed nannies, anyone?) I think some (not all) Americans are finally able to look at the separate toilets issue as silly, but we're repeating it with headscarves today.
I've never lived in the south, but I have lived in apartments in Chicago that were designed with tiny bedrooms and attached bathrooms for the maid. Full bathrooms.
2)OK, speaking of history, here's where I think Stockett misses a truly amazing opportunity. She sets up the character of Minny as a well-intentioned but blunt woman who stays in an unhappy marriage because she has a man and that's status. She should have mentioned or referenced the findings of Daniel Patrick Moynihan's report on The Negro Family and how the single parent (and grandparent) households' experiences and needs tied in with the events of the book. The Federal Government did a lot to encourage single mother households - unintentionally, but the legacy dates back to the Great depression. (If you want a bibliography, I can oblige.)
Yes, I am demanding more. If this is a novel with a history lesson to people who hated high school history class, more history needs to be presented. DPM's committee's observations should have been pushed further forward.
OK, really, I'm almost done.
This group is a lot of fun to me because we bring a huge array of reading backgrounds - we all love books, but we have different preferences. Though I have compared Help to Holt's novels, I have to throw in the caveat that I kept hoping that this would be an Agatha Christie style text. Where Holt throws twists, if you read a lot of Christie, you discover that she throws tornadoes. I was hoping for a storm, but it never came.
I would love to listen to a panel of Stockett and Sharyn McCrumb, - McCrumb writes mysteries with many of the same issues Stockett addresses, but with a more deft hand. McCrumb addresses alcoholism, race and bias very well. What I think the two have in common is that they both examine the pecking order that starts so young and lasts a lifetime. We may pretend that the popular kids and the bullies don't win, but they do hold immense sway, particularly in small communities. I do not say towns, I say communities. Even in 2011, the game of knowing to whom you must be polite, with whom you must flirt, with whom you must be docile, etc. is still very much with us, "late and soon" and I do think that Stockett nails this angle.
All in all, I'd call this a mixed bag. The plot is predictable, but the narrative is engaging. There are missed opportunities, but the mantra that one lives on in the love and example set for children is truly awesome.
Friday, September 09, 2011
A Song You Listen To When Happy
"As Soon as the Sun Comes Down" by Animal Logic
Animal Logic
Animal Logic was something of a "let's get folks together and make an album" situation. Stewart Copeland of the Police is probably the name best known, but I love the sound of Deborah Holland's voice, and I think it's very noteworthy that she wrote most of the songs on the group's albums.
I had a boyfriend with the self-titled CD, but his brother "borrowed" it and it never came back. This prevented me from borrowing it and having a similar case of amnesia. A friend with the CD and without such a boyfriend's brother copied the album onto cassette for me (hey, this is what college students did before we worried about file sharing.) Now that I don't have a cassette player, this song only plays in my head, but I can still hear every bit.
This is a terrible recording of "Sun," obviously done live, but it's all I could find on You Tube.
As Soon as the Sun Comes Down"
Holland's voice is obviously tired - on the album, the notes of this song come out as a low purr.
Animal Logic
Animal Logic was something of a "let's get folks together and make an album" situation. Stewart Copeland of the Police is probably the name best known, but I love the sound of Deborah Holland's voice, and I think it's very noteworthy that she wrote most of the songs on the group's albums.
I had a boyfriend with the self-titled CD, but his brother "borrowed" it and it never came back. This prevented me from borrowing it and having a similar case of amnesia. A friend with the CD and without such a boyfriend's brother copied the album onto cassette for me (hey, this is what college students did before we worried about file sharing.) Now that I don't have a cassette player, this song only plays in my head, but I can still hear every bit.
This is a terrible recording of "Sun," obviously done live, but it's all I could find on You Tube.
As Soon as the Sun Comes Down"
Holland's voice is obviously tired - on the album, the notes of this song come out as a low purr.
Monday, August 29, 2011
a song you listen to when angry
I skipped "Song From Favorite Album" as I just couldn't pick a single album, and by the time I'd waxed on about all of the ones I love, I'd still be hard pressed to select just one song.
There's a lot of Sondheim that's great for being angry - "Could I Leave You" from Follies possibly being the best, even if I'm not angry at or with a person. I think this song is most effective when sung by a man, though it's written for a woman, so if I hear it in my head, I hear a second tenor gnashing through the rhymes, insults and nastiness.
"Good Luck" by Basement Jaxx is on the soundtrack to Queer Eye For The Straight Guy (oh, how I mourned when that show jumped the shark, so thoroughly, all in one episode...)
Good Luck
It is impossible to listen to this song at a low volume. It is meant to be played loudly. You don't just hear or feel the rage (or both) - it screams at you on all levels.
There's a lot of Sondheim that's great for being angry - "Could I Leave You" from Follies possibly being the best, even if I'm not angry at or with a person. I think this song is most effective when sung by a man, though it's written for a woman, so if I hear it in my head, I hear a second tenor gnashing through the rhymes, insults and nastiness.
"Good Luck" by Basement Jaxx is on the soundtrack to Queer Eye For The Straight Guy (oh, how I mourned when that show jumped the shark, so thoroughly, all in one episode...)
Good Luck
It is impossible to listen to this song at a low volume. It is meant to be played loudly. You don't just hear or feel the rage (or both) - it screams at you on all levels.
Friday, August 19, 2011
A Song You Wish You Heard on the Radio
Years ago, one of the Indianapolis radio stations (best of the 80s - loved it) announced that in a week or so, their format would be changing. In the meantime they would play (obvious choice) television theme songs.
Here's the catch - they did this for three days with no disc jockeys. They'd play a theme song, but with no information. Half of the time I would hear the opening notes and know - "love, exciting and new" or it would be http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YjpCU4Zy9Cs the theme music to Dynasty or http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2S6ZQn9lvk to Unsolved Mysteries and I'd yell the name. Other times, I'd know that I knew the tune, but could not place it: drove me bonkers, but I loved it.
I listened to that radio station pretty much non-stop for three days. It was awesome. Then it started all Spanish content, and that was the end of my fun.
I won't want to hear a song on the radio - I want those three days of, "wait! I know this!" back. So instead of a song, I wish to have a station that only plays television theme songs.
Here's the catch - they did this for three days with no disc jockeys. They'd play a theme song, but with no information. Half of the time I would hear the opening notes and know - "love, exciting and new" or it would be http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YjpCU4Zy9Cs the theme music to Dynasty or http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K2S6ZQn9lvk to Unsolved Mysteries and I'd yell the name. Other times, I'd know that I knew the tune, but could not place it: drove me bonkers, but I loved it.
I listened to that radio station pretty much non-stop for three days. It was awesome. Then it started all Spanish content, and that was the end of my fun.
I won't want to hear a song on the radio - I want those three days of, "wait! I know this!" back. So instead of a song, I wish to have a station that only plays television theme songs.
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
A Song You Always Hear On the Radio
Believe it or not, I have no answer for this question. Almost all of my radio listening is NPR and the BBC International News and I don't really count their theme music as songs, though I do hope that their composers were well paid.
Friday, August 05, 2011
A Song You Once Loved, But Now Hate
Tricky - I tend to be fiercely loyal beyond the point of reason or rationality, whether it be people, places, things ("so I unpacked my adjectives") or music.
"Have Some Madeira, M'Dear"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrbAyHVVYgI
by the Limelighters struck me as very funny as a kid. As an adult, I realized that it is, technically, about date rape, hence much less funny.
Interesting how much the world has changed - in the sixties, a group that encouraged brotherhood, etc. got laughs with a song like this. As a history teacher, I get the humor, but it's a lot more creepy now.
"Have Some Madeira, M'Dear"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vrbAyHVVYgI
by the Limelighters struck me as very funny as a kid. As an adult, I realized that it is, technically, about date rape, hence much less funny.
Interesting how much the world has changed - in the sixties, a group that encouraged brotherhood, etc. got laughs with a song like this. As a history teacher, I get the humor, but it's a lot more creepy now.
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