Quickly now, because I have to work on my own pitch before I head off to Day Two of the PNWA Conference in scenic Seatac: consider the following pitches I heard from writers yesterday. I'd love to see if you can guess which one (so far) has sold and is being made into a movie! My apologies to anyone's pitch which I get wrong or express lamely.
1. The hard-knock life of a miniature schnauzer, from the schnauzer's point of view. He goes from all the way from being a treasured champion dog, to being an appreciated rat-catcher on a farm, to being a neglected mutt chained to a camper and beaten regularly. Then a dog rescue operation buys and rehabilitates him, and he goes to live with a nice elderly couple. (I call this CALL OF THE WILD meets BLACK BEAUTY meets THE ART OF RACING IN THE RAIN.)
2. A 17-year-old boy inherits a house full of demons that he has to manage (i.e., keep the demons inside the house). What he really wants to do is go on a date. Meanwhile, a young librarian's asst gets razzed about never dating, so she agrees to date the very next person who asks. It's demon-keeping boy, and they go out. While they're out, demons escape, delinquents break into the house, and mayhem ensues.
3. Four people are found murdered in the Seattle area within two days, and Detective has just a short period of time to determine if the murders are related. They're all connected by water somehow, and maritime Rolex watches. The Feds are trying to take the case away, and locals suspect a cover-up. Story and possible conspiracy expand to include Cuba, failed missions, Gitmo, and possibly Pres. Clinton himself!
4. A girl conceived in vitro and adopted to another family gets sent to an elite boarding school in California. What she wants most is to find her biological family. When her in vitro brother turns up at the same school and falls for her, she has to choose between revealing herself and possibly gaining a family or keeping quiet and gaining a boyfriend.
Okay, off to practice! Let me know if you can guess.
Friday, July 31, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Too Darned Hot
I remember meeting a guy from Dallas at one of my former dead-end jobs, and he marveled at how yearly summer heat waves never failed to kill people in Chicago. "When it's 104F in Dallas, I go running in the park with my dogs. What's wrong with people in Chicago? Are they just wimpier?"
I can't imagine what he'd think of us here in Bellevue. Yesterday hit, what, high 90s, after days of being in the 80s and low 90s, and we all thought this might be The End. Today promises to be even hotter, and the weatherman forecasts a seemingly endless stretch of sunny, hot days, with the "best" day shaping up to be Sunday because it will "only" hit 88F. Yikes.
Things have reached such a desperate pass that I got up at 4:55 a.m. this morning to open up the house (mosquitoes or no mosquitoes), in the hopes of cooling it off to the mid-70s before we have to go back into mole-like hiding from the sun. At book club last night we agreed unanimously to forgo the planned firepit Peeps roast, and even talk of slogging through bitter cold outside besieged Leningrad couldn't cool us off (Book: David Benioff's CITY OF THIEVES). I continue to send my son to morning soccer camp, peering anxiously over my shoulder, lest CPS nail me for child abuse.
Well, they do say people in hot climates drink hot tea to cool themselves off. Maybe we should all read some books set in sweltering places. Carson McCuller's MEMBER OF THE WEDDING (it may be hot in Western WA, but at least you're not a depressed, alienated adolescent)? David McCullough's THE PATH BETWEEN THE SEAS (at least we don't have to build the Panama Canal, and the mosquitoes don't carry yellow fever)? Dean King's SKELETONS ON THE ZAHARA (at least we're not hot and starving and enslaved by desert nomads)?
How hot have your houses gotten?
I can't imagine what he'd think of us here in Bellevue. Yesterday hit, what, high 90s, after days of being in the 80s and low 90s, and we all thought this might be The End. Today promises to be even hotter, and the weatherman forecasts a seemingly endless stretch of sunny, hot days, with the "best" day shaping up to be Sunday because it will "only" hit 88F. Yikes.
Things have reached such a desperate pass that I got up at 4:55 a.m. this morning to open up the house (mosquitoes or no mosquitoes), in the hopes of cooling it off to the mid-70s before we have to go back into mole-like hiding from the sun. At book club last night we agreed unanimously to forgo the planned firepit Peeps roast, and even talk of slogging through bitter cold outside besieged Leningrad couldn't cool us off (Book: David Benioff's CITY OF THIEVES). I continue to send my son to morning soccer camp, peering anxiously over my shoulder, lest CPS nail me for child abuse.
Well, they do say people in hot climates drink hot tea to cool themselves off. Maybe we should all read some books set in sweltering places. Carson McCuller's MEMBER OF THE WEDDING (it may be hot in Western WA, but at least you're not a depressed, alienated adolescent)? David McCullough's THE PATH BETWEEN THE SEAS (at least we don't have to build the Panama Canal, and the mosquitoes don't carry yellow fever)? Dean King's SKELETONS ON THE ZAHARA (at least we're not hot and starving and enslaved by desert nomads)?
How hot have your houses gotten?
Monday, July 27, 2009
Mystery, She Wrote
Yesterday afternoon I spent making four peach pies (making and freezing, not baking--it being 80F in the house without turning any ovens on). When you're lousy at pie crusts, as I'm (as Foghorn Leghorn would say), this takes a fair amount of time, so I asked my 8-year-old son to pick a book and read it to me. Currently I'm swept up in Julian Rubinstein's THE BALLAD OF THE WHISKEY ROBBER, which came to me highly recommended and which I recommend in turn, but I didn't feel I could ask a second-grader to read me a book featuring almost constant drunkenness and a character named Mound of Asshead, never mind all the bank-robbing.
So my son chose NATE THE GREAT AND THE SNOWY TRAIL by Marjorie Weinman Sharmat. May I just say that I am a huge Nate the Great fan? Sharmat's mysteryettes are clever, hilarious, and satisfying. I love Nate's voice in the stories and the roster of familiar characters, especially the odd, cat-loving Rosamond. We had fun trying to guess the solution to the mystery, and neither one of us succeeded. Isn't that the draw of a mystery?
Actually, Mystery is one of those largely unexplored genres for me. I've read the forerunners: Wilkie Collins' THE MOONSTONE and THE WOMAN IN WHITE. I did Dorothy Sayers consecutively and all in a six-month space, but that's about it. No Agatha Christie, nothing. I've read the entire #1 LADIES' DETECTIVE AGENCY series, but those are "mysteries" in nothing but name. If I were to bone up in this genre, I wouldn't know where to begin because the bookstore shelves are bursting.
For those of you mystery readers, who are your favorite authors, and why?
So my son chose NATE THE GREAT AND THE SNOWY TRAIL by Marjorie Weinman Sharmat. May I just say that I am a huge Nate the Great fan? Sharmat's mysteryettes are clever, hilarious, and satisfying. I love Nate's voice in the stories and the roster of familiar characters, especially the odd, cat-loving Rosamond. We had fun trying to guess the solution to the mystery, and neither one of us succeeded. Isn't that the draw of a mystery?
Actually, Mystery is one of those largely unexplored genres for me. I've read the forerunners: Wilkie Collins' THE MOONSTONE and THE WOMAN IN WHITE. I did Dorothy Sayers consecutively and all in a six-month space, but that's about it. No Agatha Christie, nothing. I've read the entire #1 LADIES' DETECTIVE AGENCY series, but those are "mysteries" in nothing but name. If I were to bone up in this genre, I wouldn't know where to begin because the bookstore shelves are bursting.
For those of you mystery readers, who are your favorite authors, and why?
Friday, July 24, 2009
Who Says One Person Can't Make a Difference?
(This post falls under the "and Beyond" portion of this blog.)
Summer swim team season wrapped up, as of Wednesday night, and our team ended with a final ranking of 20th, out of 26 pools. We missed 19th by 0.5 points. Granted, 20th is the best our modest pool has done in years, but I'm thankful it is a modest little pool with modest expectations and modest people because it is ENTIRELY my fault we didn't get 19th. I assumed (and we all know what happens when you assume) that I didn't have to get my son to the Clerk of Course until the first call, only to discover, once we got over there, that he was supposed to be there five events ago and had missed his race. Given his seed time, and assuming (again) that he wouldn't have cramped up and sunk to the bottom of the pool, that meant good-bye 11 points. Crud. Crud crud crud.
If we belonged to one of the giant, Olympian-producing-machine pools in our league, I would be fearful to show my face there the rest of the summer, lest I be bludgeoned to death with Otter Pops. As it is, we'll all go swimming Saturday, and I'm sure everyone will be as friendly as ever. (Even as I write this, another swim mom emailed to assure me there'd been at least one DQ among the girls--see what I mean? Modest and friendly.)
I'll have to do penance some other way, like reading the mystery novel on the shelf agented by someone at the upcoming writer's conference, or struggling onward through WHAT MAISIE KNEW. I'll tell you what Maisie knew: that her parents were tiresome and that James does not write beach reads.
Yes, I must turn my mind to next week's conference, with its potential for adventures and disasters new. Hope my ten-minute editor's appointment doesn't pair me with one like at that last conference--the editor who pinned me with a cold eye and whom I couldn't get a word out of even after three direct questions. Yeeks. Maybe she had a kid on our swim team.
Summer swim team season wrapped up, as of Wednesday night, and our team ended with a final ranking of 20th, out of 26 pools. We missed 19th by 0.5 points. Granted, 20th is the best our modest pool has done in years, but I'm thankful it is a modest little pool with modest expectations and modest people because it is ENTIRELY my fault we didn't get 19th. I assumed (and we all know what happens when you assume) that I didn't have to get my son to the Clerk of Course until the first call, only to discover, once we got over there, that he was supposed to be there five events ago and had missed his race. Given his seed time, and assuming (again) that he wouldn't have cramped up and sunk to the bottom of the pool, that meant good-bye 11 points. Crud. Crud crud crud.
If we belonged to one of the giant, Olympian-producing-machine pools in our league, I would be fearful to show my face there the rest of the summer, lest I be bludgeoned to death with Otter Pops. As it is, we'll all go swimming Saturday, and I'm sure everyone will be as friendly as ever. (Even as I write this, another swim mom emailed to assure me there'd been at least one DQ among the girls--see what I mean? Modest and friendly.)
I'll have to do penance some other way, like reading the mystery novel on the shelf agented by someone at the upcoming writer's conference, or struggling onward through WHAT MAISIE KNEW. I'll tell you what Maisie knew: that her parents were tiresome and that James does not write beach reads.
Yes, I must turn my mind to next week's conference, with its potential for adventures and disasters new. Hope my ten-minute editor's appointment doesn't pair me with one like at that last conference--the editor who pinned me with a cold eye and whom I couldn't get a word out of even after three direct questions. Yeeks. Maybe she had a kid on our swim team.
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
How to Climb Mt. Everest
Yesterday was a bust, reading-wise, until I picked up HIGH CRIMES: THE FATE OF EVEREST IN AN AGE OF GREED by Michael Kodas. This book combines many of my favorite elements: chilly temperatures, peril, hypoxia, hypothermia, and bad human behavior. How could the book about the time-traveling rock star compete? Or the slow-moving one about Appalachian murders one hundred years apart?
You wouldn't think there'd be room at the publishers for another book about people behaving badly on Mt. Everest, and Kodas frankly acknowledges how his book continues and complements Krakauer's INTO THIN AIR. But there is, in fact, plenty more to say. And much of the more is directly due to the popularity of INTO THIN AIR. Apparently, when the Chinese government got word that Nepalese climbing outfits were charging $65,000 a head to make a summit attempt, they decided this was a business opportunity worth investigating. Result: more Chinese tromping on Tibet, so they could pave the way (literally) to a cheaper, Chinese (or Tibetan, depending on how you feel about it) climbing alternative.
Anyhow, if you are considering your own assault on Everest, here are some things to consider:
1. Permits on the Chinese side are cut-rate, and they have a PAVED ROAD all the way to Base Camp! (On the other hand, the Nepalese side now has a HOTEL just an hour's walk from their base camp.)
2. You may want to take your savings on permits and invest in ARMED SECURITY GUARDS because people have been known to steal each other's oxygen tanks, tents, supplies, medkits, stylish Marmot down suits--anything that isn't staked down.
3. Speaking of down suits, when you go try them on at REI or wherever, first don oven mitts and fogged-over goggles and then take each one on a test drive to the bathroom. You may look ridiculous, but people have died on Everest over lesser things.
3. People who climb without being properly equipped, imagining they will just "borrow" and depend on the kindness of strangers, are known as "dirtbags." Another downside of being a dirtbag, besides the unflattering name, is that the properly-equipped are wising up, stumbling past you along the ropes as your oxygen tank dries up and frostbite claims another toe.
4. On the Nepalese side, if you're not off The Balcony and slogging into Camp Four by day's end, you're pretty much toast. Get out your special satellite phone and make that last call a good one.
5. And finally, for those of you who insist, there's now another option altogether: helicopter rides to the summit! Imagine--no puffy red suit, no midnight start, no fumbling to switch out oxygen tanks, no moral dilemma about whether to save yourself or the ill-prepared dirtbag lying there. Just slap on the goofy headphones, and off you go to the Top of the World.
Happy climbing!
You wouldn't think there'd be room at the publishers for another book about people behaving badly on Mt. Everest, and Kodas frankly acknowledges how his book continues and complements Krakauer's INTO THIN AIR. But there is, in fact, plenty more to say. And much of the more is directly due to the popularity of INTO THIN AIR. Apparently, when the Chinese government got word that Nepalese climbing outfits were charging $65,000 a head to make a summit attempt, they decided this was a business opportunity worth investigating. Result: more Chinese tromping on Tibet, so they could pave the way (literally) to a cheaper, Chinese (or Tibetan, depending on how you feel about it) climbing alternative.
Anyhow, if you are considering your own assault on Everest, here are some things to consider:
1. Permits on the Chinese side are cut-rate, and they have a PAVED ROAD all the way to Base Camp! (On the other hand, the Nepalese side now has a HOTEL just an hour's walk from their base camp.)
2. You may want to take your savings on permits and invest in ARMED SECURITY GUARDS because people have been known to steal each other's oxygen tanks, tents, supplies, medkits, stylish Marmot down suits--anything that isn't staked down.
3. Speaking of down suits, when you go try them on at REI or wherever, first don oven mitts and fogged-over goggles and then take each one on a test drive to the bathroom. You may look ridiculous, but people have died on Everest over lesser things.
3. People who climb without being properly equipped, imagining they will just "borrow" and depend on the kindness of strangers, are known as "dirtbags." Another downside of being a dirtbag, besides the unflattering name, is that the properly-equipped are wising up, stumbling past you along the ropes as your oxygen tank dries up and frostbite claims another toe.
4. On the Nepalese side, if you're not off The Balcony and slogging into Camp Four by day's end, you're pretty much toast. Get out your special satellite phone and make that last call a good one.
5. And finally, for those of you who insist, there's now another option altogether: helicopter rides to the summit! Imagine--no puffy red suit, no midnight start, no fumbling to switch out oxygen tanks, no moral dilemma about whether to save yourself or the ill-prepared dirtbag lying there. Just slap on the goofy headphones, and off you go to the Top of the World.
Happy climbing!
Monday, July 20, 2009
Things I Am Beginning to Realize about Clint Eastwood
Last night we finished watching CHANGELING, Clint Eastwood's film set in the 1920s about a mom whose child disappears, and then the LAPD foists another child on her so they can call the case closed.
In general, we love Clint Eastwood movies. Not just movies he directs but also ones he starred in (hey! no guff from any of you about ANY WHICH WAY YOU CAN. Shouldn't every moving co-starring an orangutan warrant a sequel?). Loved the spaghetti westerns, loved TWO MULES FOR SISTER SARA, loved DIRTY HARRY. (Okay, just spent some time scrolling through Eastwood's acting oeuvre on Netflix--I'll grant you there are some real stinkers...) We even admired Clint when he was Mayor of Carmel, but it's as a director we enjoy him most.
From seeing MYSTIC RIVER, MILLION DOLLAR BABY, UNFORGIVEN, and CHANGELING, however, we are beginning to see some patterns:
1) Eastwood doesn't do Hollywood endings. This can be a bummer since, I confess, I'm a sucker for a Hollywood ending. He doesn't even do motions in the direction of Hollywood endings. The bad guy may get his, but so, unfortunately, does the good guy. There is no neat-and-tidy. No guy and girl riding into the sunset. Zip. In the case of CHANGELING, Scott said, "Well, at least she got justice." Justice? Who cares about justice when what you really want is closure?
2) Try not to get too attached to anyone in Eastwood movies. Maybe I should read more movie reviews, but did I know, going in, what was going to happen to "Mo Cuishle" in MILLION DOLLAR BABY? Uh uh. Sheesh. Watch out for those stools. (BTW, SCARY MOVIE IV has the most hilarious parody of MDB's stool scene. We were beside ourselves.)
3)Eastwood movies are made for discussion. If you see movies with a lumpish spouse who never introspects or offers opinions, stay away from Clint's pics. Your lumpish spouse will be lumpish, and you will find that especially frustrating. On the other hand, these don't make good first-date movies either, since there's usually some crying and depression involved, but at least it would help you discern whether that date has future lumpish-spouse potential.
Those were my ah-has. Can't wait to see GRAN TORINO. Would love to know your favorite Clint movies, starring or directing.
In general, we love Clint Eastwood movies. Not just movies he directs but also ones he starred in (hey! no guff from any of you about ANY WHICH WAY YOU CAN. Shouldn't every moving co-starring an orangutan warrant a sequel?). Loved the spaghetti westerns, loved TWO MULES FOR SISTER SARA, loved DIRTY HARRY. (Okay, just spent some time scrolling through Eastwood's acting oeuvre on Netflix--I'll grant you there are some real stinkers...) We even admired Clint when he was Mayor of Carmel, but it's as a director we enjoy him most.
From seeing MYSTIC RIVER, MILLION DOLLAR BABY, UNFORGIVEN, and CHANGELING, however, we are beginning to see some patterns:
1) Eastwood doesn't do Hollywood endings. This can be a bummer since, I confess, I'm a sucker for a Hollywood ending. He doesn't even do motions in the direction of Hollywood endings. The bad guy may get his, but so, unfortunately, does the good guy. There is no neat-and-tidy. No guy and girl riding into the sunset. Zip. In the case of CHANGELING, Scott said, "Well, at least she got justice." Justice? Who cares about justice when what you really want is closure?
2) Try not to get too attached to anyone in Eastwood movies. Maybe I should read more movie reviews, but did I know, going in, what was going to happen to "Mo Cuishle" in MILLION DOLLAR BABY? Uh uh. Sheesh. Watch out for those stools. (BTW, SCARY MOVIE IV has the most hilarious parody of MDB's stool scene. We were beside ourselves.)
3)Eastwood movies are made for discussion. If you see movies with a lumpish spouse who never introspects or offers opinions, stay away from Clint's pics. Your lumpish spouse will be lumpish, and you will find that especially frustrating. On the other hand, these don't make good first-date movies either, since there's usually some crying and depression involved, but at least it would help you discern whether that date has future lumpish-spouse potential.
Those were my ah-has. Can't wait to see GRAN TORINO. Would love to know your favorite Clint movies, starring or directing.
Friday, July 17, 2009
Hit Me with Your Best Shot
Who knew that becoming a writer gives you insight into God's heart? (Okay, maybe lots of writers, but this one didn't. I'm beginning to think individual lives are all about re-inventing the wheel, wisdom-wise, over and over.)
Yesterday was the second book club discussion I attended on MOURNING BECOMES CASSANDRA, and there was some--ahem!--mild criticism of a couple of the characters. In particular, one reader found James "sappy."
"Sappy"? SAPPY???!!!
Being James' creator, I leaped to his defense: "I LOVE James! There is nothing wrong with James!" (Any more behavior like this, and I might stop getting invitations to book clubs.) Granted, this was not a well-reasoned defense, and sappiness is in the eye of the beholder, but at least I felt better.
Now James is meant to be a sympathetic character, but I found I had this knee-jerk reaction even when another reader claimed she "hated" Jason, Phyl's philandering ex-husband.
"You 'hate' Jason?" I demanded. "He's a minor character--how can you 'hate' Jason?"
"Because Phyl is so sweet, and he was so awful to her" was the reply.
Well, even awful, philandering Jason falls within my Circle of Love, and I felt hurt on his behalf. Why? Because I made him, that's why. I couldn't help myself.
You see where this is going. Ah ha....God loves us because he created us. He can't help himself. We are all, in some way, extensions of him, even when we behave badly. We philander, we lie, we abuse each other. Sometimes we even--God forbid--get "sappy."
And it isn't as if God doesn't recognize our bad behavior, but like the Author he is, he leaps to our defense. "I LOVE her! There's nothing wrong with her that a little Jesus won't fix." It may not be rational, and heaven knows there are plenty of places God is no longer invited to, but it sure does comfort this particular badly-behaving character.
Yesterday was the second book club discussion I attended on MOURNING BECOMES CASSANDRA, and there was some--ahem!--mild criticism of a couple of the characters. In particular, one reader found James "sappy."
"Sappy"? SAPPY???!!!
Being James' creator, I leaped to his defense: "I LOVE James! There is nothing wrong with James!" (Any more behavior like this, and I might stop getting invitations to book clubs.) Granted, this was not a well-reasoned defense, and sappiness is in the eye of the beholder, but at least I felt better.
Now James is meant to be a sympathetic character, but I found I had this knee-jerk reaction even when another reader claimed she "hated" Jason, Phyl's philandering ex-husband.
"You 'hate' Jason?" I demanded. "He's a minor character--how can you 'hate' Jason?"
"Because Phyl is so sweet, and he was so awful to her" was the reply.
Well, even awful, philandering Jason falls within my Circle of Love, and I felt hurt on his behalf. Why? Because I made him, that's why. I couldn't help myself.
You see where this is going. Ah ha....God loves us because he created us. He can't help himself. We are all, in some way, extensions of him, even when we behave badly. We philander, we lie, we abuse each other. Sometimes we even--God forbid--get "sappy."
And it isn't as if God doesn't recognize our bad behavior, but like the Author he is, he leaps to our defense. "I LOVE her! There's nothing wrong with her that a little Jesus won't fix." It may not be rational, and heaven knows there are plenty of places God is no longer invited to, but it sure does comfort this particular badly-behaving character.
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
In Case of Emergency
Last night, as a friend and I were timing during the kids' swim meet, she told me how she'd been given a book of "Poetry for All Occasions." A thoughtful gift, but a little odd because many of the occasions were sad ones: On the Loss of a Dog. On the Loss of a Child(!). On the Dissolution of One's Marriage. On One's Excommunication from the Church. (Okay, I made the last two up, but the first two were real!) Now that I think about it, I should have asked to borrow the book because I would really like to know which poems they suggested for the various tragedies. ("Quoth the Raven, 'Nevermore!'"? "I think that I shall never see/a poem lovely as a tree"? "There was a man from Nantucket"?)
Now, having visited the funky places known as Christian bookstores a few times in my life, I know they have similar books like "Psalms for All Occasions," especially occasions where you want to praise God's creation poetically or, on the other hand, occasions where you'd really, really, really like God to bash someone's head in. Psalms for life's crises make more sense to me because they really are no-holds-barred. There really are appropriate ones for the times you want to tear your hair out and beat your chest and yell at God.
Maybe I'm off base here. Can anyone suggest any secular literature they turn to, when the going gets tough? For comfort, not distraction. I'm not holding my breath.
Now, having visited the funky places known as Christian bookstores a few times in my life, I know they have similar books like "Psalms for All Occasions," especially occasions where you want to praise God's creation poetically or, on the other hand, occasions where you'd really, really, really like God to bash someone's head in. Psalms for life's crises make more sense to me because they really are no-holds-barred. There really are appropriate ones for the times you want to tear your hair out and beat your chest and yell at God.
Maybe I'm off base here. Can anyone suggest any secular literature they turn to, when the going gets tough? For comfort, not distraction. I'm not holding my breath.
Monday, July 13, 2009
Call Me a Quitter
How do you decide whether or not to give up on a book?
A congregant recently shared this formula with my husband: Subtract your age from 100. This is the number of pages of the book you have to read before you ditch it. Checking in at 39, that means I have to give a book 61 pages to do it justice. The younger you are, the more time you have, and the more time you have to invest in middling books.
Even with such a handy formula, I can't always abide by it. Lately I've been quitting on lots of books.
I gave up on ROOFTOPS OF TEHRAN after about 50 pages. It was a little bit MY LIFE AS A TRAITOR crossed with THE KITE RUNNER, and I didn't absolutely love either of those books either, although I finished them.
I quit on THE EDUCATION OF LITTLE TREE after a couple hundred pages. It was the heavy-handed, we-are-the-world, Confederate-and-Union-black-and-white-and-Indian, imagine-all-the-people farming chapter that did me in. That and Little Tree's six-year-old view of the world, which for some reason was reminding me of Junie B. Jones this time around!
I gave Sherman Alexie's THE ABSOLUTELY TRUE DIARY OF A PART-TIME INDIAN only ten pages, despite the many awards it's garnered. Really, this is hardly better than just reading the back cover copy, so I can't even give a reason for quitting, except that I wasn't in the mood.
When I'm quitting on so many books, I think that means it's time to re-read a tried-and-true favorite. Dickens may be calling. When I caught twenty minutes of the latest LITTLE DORRIT production last week, I couldn't remember jack about the plot, but after about five minutes of watching I'd seen enough to know I didn't actually want to re-read. Could the problem be me?
On the plus side, I'm keeping going with David Benioff's THE 25TH HOUR after loving his CITY OF THIEVES. Of course, that could just be because, on the back cover is just about the handsomest stock photo of an author I've ever seen. I'll bet that guy didn't even send agents query letters--he just printed up a hundred head shots and sent those out instead. Whenever my mind wanders, I can flip to the back cover and find my interest renewed.
How's your summer reading going? Any new favorites or dislikes?
A congregant recently shared this formula with my husband: Subtract your age from 100. This is the number of pages of the book you have to read before you ditch it. Checking in at 39, that means I have to give a book 61 pages to do it justice. The younger you are, the more time you have, and the more time you have to invest in middling books.
Even with such a handy formula, I can't always abide by it. Lately I've been quitting on lots of books.
I gave up on ROOFTOPS OF TEHRAN after about 50 pages. It was a little bit MY LIFE AS A TRAITOR crossed with THE KITE RUNNER, and I didn't absolutely love either of those books either, although I finished them.
I quit on THE EDUCATION OF LITTLE TREE after a couple hundred pages. It was the heavy-handed, we-are-the-world, Confederate-and-Union-black-and-white-and-Indian, imagine-all-the-people farming chapter that did me in. That and Little Tree's six-year-old view of the world, which for some reason was reminding me of Junie B. Jones this time around!
I gave Sherman Alexie's THE ABSOLUTELY TRUE DIARY OF A PART-TIME INDIAN only ten pages, despite the many awards it's garnered. Really, this is hardly better than just reading the back cover copy, so I can't even give a reason for quitting, except that I wasn't in the mood.
When I'm quitting on so many books, I think that means it's time to re-read a tried-and-true favorite. Dickens may be calling. When I caught twenty minutes of the latest LITTLE DORRIT production last week, I couldn't remember jack about the plot, but after about five minutes of watching I'd seen enough to know I didn't actually want to re-read. Could the problem be me?
On the plus side, I'm keeping going with David Benioff's THE 25TH HOUR after loving his CITY OF THIEVES. Of course, that could just be because, on the back cover is just about the handsomest stock photo of an author I've ever seen. I'll bet that guy didn't even send agents query letters--he just printed up a hundred head shots and sent those out instead. Whenever my mind wanders, I can flip to the back cover and find my interest renewed.
How's your summer reading going? Any new favorites or dislikes?
Friday, July 10, 2009
Loud and Clear
Last night my in-laws were in town to catch my children's swim meet, and on the drive to the pool I mentioned having blitzed through Jean Latham's CARRY ON, MR. BOWDITCH. (I finished two books on Wednesday! Two! Latham's and A VOYAGE LONG AND STRANGE. Granted, with the latter, it'd taken me a couple weeks total, but I wrapped it up on Wed.)
"I read that out loud to my sixth grade class," said my father-in-law Gene. "They loved it. That and MARA, DAUGHTER OF THE NILE."
Gene wasn't the only one who remembered those books and the fifteen minutes a day of reading aloud in class. Years and years and years later he ran into one of his former students, and MARA came up. "I remember that book!" said the now-grown-up. "There was a love scene, and you read it all stumbly."
Funny that, when books are read aloud to us, we remember things about the reading, and the memories of the reading color our memories of the book. Forevermore, when that former student encounters MARA, DAUGHTER OF THE NILE, she'll remember Mr. Dudley getting all "stumbly" over Mara kissing her love interest.
Sometimes a book can't live up to its read-aloud memory. I insisted on THE WHEEL ON THE SCHOOL because of my fond memories of a classroom reading, only to have my children wander away mentally, bored, and to find that, despite my best efforts, I was finding it a little dull as well.
Other times we'll never know how the books stands up. I still remember my fourth-grade teacher Ms. Lepeisha (and it was definitely "Ms." with her, back in the '70s, when that meant something) reading us MRS. FRISBY AND THE RATS OF NIMH. I haven't read the book since, but to this day, when I take my children to the library, I beg my oldest in vain to check it out. "Please!" I want to say, "It's one of my three memories of Ms. Lepeisha: how she read NIMH, how she could do short division lickety-split, and how she once threw my workbook at my head for not following directions."
We do a lot of reading aloud in our house: the entire HARRY POTTER series, the entire Laura Ingalls Wilder series, ALICE IN WONDERLAND (which was absolutely made for reading aloud), the splendid SKIPPYJOHN JONES series, and on and on. The memories might or might not last their whole lives, but hopefully they'll last long enough to balance out my more Ms.-Lepeisha-like moments as a mother.
Favorite read-aloud memories for you?
"I read that out loud to my sixth grade class," said my father-in-law Gene. "They loved it. That and MARA, DAUGHTER OF THE NILE."
Gene wasn't the only one who remembered those books and the fifteen minutes a day of reading aloud in class. Years and years and years later he ran into one of his former students, and MARA came up. "I remember that book!" said the now-grown-up. "There was a love scene, and you read it all stumbly."
Funny that, when books are read aloud to us, we remember things about the reading, and the memories of the reading color our memories of the book. Forevermore, when that former student encounters MARA, DAUGHTER OF THE NILE, she'll remember Mr. Dudley getting all "stumbly" over Mara kissing her love interest.
Sometimes a book can't live up to its read-aloud memory. I insisted on THE WHEEL ON THE SCHOOL because of my fond memories of a classroom reading, only to have my children wander away mentally, bored, and to find that, despite my best efforts, I was finding it a little dull as well.
Other times we'll never know how the books stands up. I still remember my fourth-grade teacher Ms. Lepeisha (and it was definitely "Ms." with her, back in the '70s, when that meant something) reading us MRS. FRISBY AND THE RATS OF NIMH. I haven't read the book since, but to this day, when I take my children to the library, I beg my oldest in vain to check it out. "Please!" I want to say, "It's one of my three memories of Ms. Lepeisha: how she read NIMH, how she could do short division lickety-split, and how she once threw my workbook at my head for not following directions."
We do a lot of reading aloud in our house: the entire HARRY POTTER series, the entire Laura Ingalls Wilder series, ALICE IN WONDERLAND (which was absolutely made for reading aloud), the splendid SKIPPYJOHN JONES series, and on and on. The memories might or might not last their whole lives, but hopefully they'll last long enough to balance out my more Ms.-Lepeisha-like moments as a mother.
Favorite read-aloud memories for you?
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Losing Sleep
Several people have greeted me, bleary-eyed, to say they'd stayed up late reading MOURNING BECOMES CASSANDRA. This is wonderful news to me. And should be to them. After all, if we think of the things that usually keep sleep away, most of them are not very pleasant: newborn babies who spent the entire day snoozing, nagging anxieties, things that go bump in the night.
I, for example, had a hard time falling asleep last night because I was thinking about my son's splits at the latest swim meet. Doggone it, why was his breaststroke getting slower, when every other stroke was getting faster?
Un-put-downable books are few and far between, sadly. There should be a scale for measuring a book's un-put-downableness:
1- Academic Textbook in a course you didn't choose. You read the same page over and over, with no noticeable absorption of meaning. That is, if you can manage to read more than a paragraph without falling asleep on it, drooling.
2- Parenting Books. Books that not only bore non-maternal types like me, but also induce guilt.
3- certain Sections of the Bible. And I don't mean Leviticus, which I find interesting. I mean geneologies, certain passages of the Prophets (whew! which country were we lambasting now?), and, worst of all, instructions on how to build things or measurements of buildings.
4- Mildly-Interesting-yet-also-Secretly-Boring books which you can't quite decide if they're worth finishing. I'd put my current EDUCATION OF LITTLE TREE in this category. You might compromise by skimming.
5- Somewhat Interesting. Think Book Club selections chosen by that one, slightly-off person who always recommends movies you hated.
6- getting there! Worth reading every word of, but it can be uphill at times. After watching Ken Burns' CIVIL WAR series, I fell for Shelby Foote and tried to read one (enormous) volume of his seminal work. Despite falling asleep frequently I made it through the thing, but the minor battles and sieges did blend together somewhat.
7- a book you like and gladly pick up. I think this bucket holds most books I bother finishing. These are books you also put down without reluctance when invited to go play Yahtzee or watch a rerun of The Simpsons. Three stars.
8- Books you put down while suppressing mild feelings of irritation at being interrupted. I'd put books 1 and 3 of the TWILIGHT series here.
9- Books that cause you to stay up late or burn dinner.
10- Books that, if the house caught on fire, there would be danger that you wouldn't even notice and would burn to a crisp. And it would be worth it. The last five chapters of HARRY POTTER 4-7 fall into this category.
What are some of your 8s, 9s, or 10s?
I, for example, had a hard time falling asleep last night because I was thinking about my son's splits at the latest swim meet. Doggone it, why was his breaststroke getting slower, when every other stroke was getting faster?
Un-put-downable books are few and far between, sadly. There should be a scale for measuring a book's un-put-downableness:
1- Academic Textbook in a course you didn't choose. You read the same page over and over, with no noticeable absorption of meaning. That is, if you can manage to read more than a paragraph without falling asleep on it, drooling.
2- Parenting Books. Books that not only bore non-maternal types like me, but also induce guilt.
3- certain Sections of the Bible. And I don't mean Leviticus, which I find interesting. I mean geneologies, certain passages of the Prophets (whew! which country were we lambasting now?), and, worst of all, instructions on how to build things or measurements of buildings.
4- Mildly-Interesting-yet-also-Secretly-Boring books which you can't quite decide if they're worth finishing. I'd put my current EDUCATION OF LITTLE TREE in this category. You might compromise by skimming.
5- Somewhat Interesting. Think Book Club selections chosen by that one, slightly-off person who always recommends movies you hated.
6- getting there! Worth reading every word of, but it can be uphill at times. After watching Ken Burns' CIVIL WAR series, I fell for Shelby Foote and tried to read one (enormous) volume of his seminal work. Despite falling asleep frequently I made it through the thing, but the minor battles and sieges did blend together somewhat.
7- a book you like and gladly pick up. I think this bucket holds most books I bother finishing. These are books you also put down without reluctance when invited to go play Yahtzee or watch a rerun of The Simpsons. Three stars.
8- Books you put down while suppressing mild feelings of irritation at being interrupted. I'd put books 1 and 3 of the TWILIGHT series here.
9- Books that cause you to stay up late or burn dinner.
10- Books that, if the house caught on fire, there would be danger that you wouldn't even notice and would burn to a crisp. And it would be worth it. The last five chapters of HARRY POTTER 4-7 fall into this category.
What are some of your 8s, 9s, or 10s?
Monday, July 6, 2009
Two Days Late, Two Dollars Short
All right, so I missed any Fourth of July post, but America has not been far from my mind, knee-deep as I am in Tony Horwitz's A VOYAGE LONG AND STRANGE, an exploration of "forgotten" parts of American history. By "forgotten" he means taking place between Columbus in 1492 and the Mayflower landing in 1620. With some early Vikings in Vinland thrown in. It's an informative, entertaining book--no BLUE LATITUDES, but at least as interesting and almost as funny as his CONFEDERATES IN THE ATTIC. And certainly more interesting and much funnier than the other recent American history book I tried to muddle through, Joseph Ellis' AMERICAN CREATION. Horwitz participating in a Conquistador re-enactment is right up there with the Confederate re-enactments, funny-wise.
And speaking of Confederates, I'm also halfway through THE EDUCATION OF LITTLE TREE by Forrest Carter, a book that initially charmed Americans and then enraged them when they found out it was written by a former(?) White Supremacist, possibly as penance. If it's penance, it has its effective moments, since "Christians" and non-Indians come off poorly, to say the least. Grandpa's assessment of the woes of sharecropping is spot-on, and you realize, in such a system, making bootleg whiskey isn't such a bad idea.
And speaking of bootleg liquor, I also took in two gangster movies this weekend: the just-out PUBLIC ENEMIES and the already-on-DVD ROAD TO PERDITION. America plays a prominent role in each, although in PERDITION it's a silent role as the gorgeous, stark, monochromatic backdrop to what really plays more like Greek tragedy. Good movies both, but what gangster movies can equal GODFATHER II? To place the gangster in the American Dream structure is brilliant.
The herky-jerky nature of this post should make clear to all that American art is too big a subject to boil down for the 4th of July, but I'd love to hear about your recent reads or movies to throw in our Melting Pot.
And speaking of Confederates, I'm also halfway through THE EDUCATION OF LITTLE TREE by Forrest Carter, a book that initially charmed Americans and then enraged them when they found out it was written by a former(?) White Supremacist, possibly as penance. If it's penance, it has its effective moments, since "Christians" and non-Indians come off poorly, to say the least. Grandpa's assessment of the woes of sharecropping is spot-on, and you realize, in such a system, making bootleg whiskey isn't such a bad idea.
And speaking of bootleg liquor, I also took in two gangster movies this weekend: the just-out PUBLIC ENEMIES and the already-on-DVD ROAD TO PERDITION. America plays a prominent role in each, although in PERDITION it's a silent role as the gorgeous, stark, monochromatic backdrop to what really plays more like Greek tragedy. Good movies both, but what gangster movies can equal GODFATHER II? To place the gangster in the American Dream structure is brilliant.
The herky-jerky nature of this post should make clear to all that American art is too big a subject to boil down for the 4th of July, but I'd love to hear about your recent reads or movies to throw in our Melting Pot.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
I Meant to Say That
Okay, blogging a day early out of sheer thrill-dom. Usually, when one receives a letter that begins, "We regret to inform you that you were not selected as one of our finalists," feelings of elation don't follow hard upon, but in this case that doesn't apply.
Did I mention that, in my early writer's zeal, I joined the Pacific Northwest Writers Association, as well as that succinct Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators? Anyhow, the PNWA conference is at the end of the month, so months and months ago, when I registered, I also entered the writing contest and sent in the first chapter of MOURNING BECOMES CASSANDRA and a synopsis with my $$$. And I lost! But, on the plus plus plus side, they give you two people's critiques along with the you're-such-a-loser letter, and these were both encouraging and helpful.
For example, two of their suggested revisions were also made by my early readers, so the book that went to press took care of those:
1. Set the book later in time. I initially opened just months after Cass's Tragedy, but later added in a year passing.
2. Delete a tangential story where Cass and Troy witnessed a guy choking in a restaurant. 75% of my readers (including my sister and brother-in-law emphatically) recommended this. Done.
A couple of their suggestions I would have ignored, had I known them:
1. One contest critic found Cass a little too distant and flip in the first chapter. That was deliberate. Hmm...maybe could have thrown in a line about someone criticizing her for always trying to keep a lid on her feelings. Joanie does later, but not early on.
2. Same critic objected to the "Laying Low" 2nd chapter title and said it should be "Lying Low." All well and good, except that NOBODY ever says he's going to "lie low." I prefer idiomatic.
Both critics deemed my synopsis too short and too vague about the ending. This was my ignorance. What writer likes to give away the ending? I didn't.
But the good news was that they both rated it 25 of 25 for "Would you read more?" One gave it an overall 88/100 and the other an 81/100. And they threw in pats on the head for humor and characterization. So I can comfort myself that, if I entered it today with a real synopsis and two of the suggested revisions, victory would be--er--well--a little closer. I count myself well-pleased.
Did I mention that, in my early writer's zeal, I joined the Pacific Northwest Writers Association, as well as that succinct Society of Children's Book Writers and Illustrators? Anyhow, the PNWA conference is at the end of the month, so months and months ago, when I registered, I also entered the writing contest and sent in the first chapter of MOURNING BECOMES CASSANDRA and a synopsis with my $$$. And I lost! But, on the plus plus plus side, they give you two people's critiques along with the you're-such-a-loser letter, and these were both encouraging and helpful.
For example, two of their suggested revisions were also made by my early readers, so the book that went to press took care of those:
1. Set the book later in time. I initially opened just months after Cass's Tragedy, but later added in a year passing.
2. Delete a tangential story where Cass and Troy witnessed a guy choking in a restaurant. 75% of my readers (including my sister and brother-in-law emphatically) recommended this. Done.
A couple of their suggestions I would have ignored, had I known them:
1. One contest critic found Cass a little too distant and flip in the first chapter. That was deliberate. Hmm...maybe could have thrown in a line about someone criticizing her for always trying to keep a lid on her feelings. Joanie does later, but not early on.
2. Same critic objected to the "Laying Low" 2nd chapter title and said it should be "Lying Low." All well and good, except that NOBODY ever says he's going to "lie low." I prefer idiomatic.
Both critics deemed my synopsis too short and too vague about the ending. This was my ignorance. What writer likes to give away the ending? I didn't.
But the good news was that they both rated it 25 of 25 for "Would you read more?" One gave it an overall 88/100 and the other an 81/100. And they threw in pats on the head for humor and characterization. So I can comfort myself that, if I entered it today with a real synopsis and two of the suggested revisions, victory would be--er--well--a little closer. I count myself well-pleased.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Coulda Shoulda Woulda
Newsweek's latest cover artfully blares, "WHAT TO READ NOW." I say artfully because it's designed to look like a shelf of hardcover book spines. And the background picture features someone reading. On a beach.
Unfortunately, this seems to be a case where interdepartmental communication broke down because, if you flip to WHAT YOU SHOULD BE READING NOW, it's all things you should be reading to educate yourself about our culture: books on financial swindling (#1! Anthony Trollope!), 9/11, the environment, poverty, class inequity, Oppenheimer, and so on. In which case, forget the beach--the picture on the cover should have shown earnest graduate students gathered in a non-chain coffee shop arguing and not listening to each other.
On the hyper-hip and hyper-didactic list, I've read only three in their entirety: #21 Twain's Mississippi books (M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i), #30 THE LOST by Daniel Mendelsohn and #41 THE BOTANY OF DESIRE by Michael Pollan, all of which I loved. Flannery O'Connor also made the list, and "Revelation" is perfect. Good, right? I should then read the entire list?
Not so fast, buddy.
I've also started to read and been completely unable to get through three: #10 GOD: A BIOGRAPHY by Jack Miles (interesting premise but just...couldn't...do...it), #16 LEAVES OF GRASS by Walt Whitman (Whitman sings the body electric ad nauseaum, especially if you don't find his body electric, even metaphorically), and #31 GILEAD by Marilynne Robinson (too many passages about the old-codger dad watching his young son sentimentally--this young son never threw fits or whined or refused to eat his vegetables).
And finally, the grad school dropout in me reacts viscerally to an article billed in two neat boxes as "Literature" "Enlightenment." Ugh. I'll crouch in Neanderthal darkness, thank you very much.
Anything on your oughta list this summer?
You won't catch me at the beach kickin' it with collected interviews on Japan's 1995 sarin-gas attack.
Unfortunately, this seems to be a case where interdepartmental communication broke down because, if you flip to WHAT YOU SHOULD BE READING NOW, it's all things you should be reading to educate yourself about our culture: books on financial swindling (#1! Anthony Trollope!), 9/11, the environment, poverty, class inequity, Oppenheimer, and so on. In which case, forget the beach--the picture on the cover should have shown earnest graduate students gathered in a non-chain coffee shop arguing and not listening to each other.
On the hyper-hip and hyper-didactic list, I've read only three in their entirety: #21 Twain's Mississippi books (M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i), #30 THE LOST by Daniel Mendelsohn and #41 THE BOTANY OF DESIRE by Michael Pollan, all of which I loved. Flannery O'Connor also made the list, and "Revelation" is perfect. Good, right? I should then read the entire list?
Not so fast, buddy.
I've also started to read and been completely unable to get through three: #10 GOD: A BIOGRAPHY by Jack Miles (interesting premise but just...couldn't...do...it), #16 LEAVES OF GRASS by Walt Whitman (Whitman sings the body electric ad nauseaum, especially if you don't find his body electric, even metaphorically), and #31 GILEAD by Marilynne Robinson (too many passages about the old-codger dad watching his young son sentimentally--this young son never threw fits or whined or refused to eat his vegetables).
And finally, the grad school dropout in me reacts viscerally to an article billed in two neat boxes as "Literature" "Enlightenment." Ugh. I'll crouch in Neanderthal darkness, thank you very much.
Anything on your oughta list this summer?
You won't catch me at the beach kickin' it with collected interviews on Japan's 1995 sarin-gas attack.
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