Michigan primary today. Big exciting stuff. Neck and neck race, the media would have you believe. It's times like these, when the system doesn't function as we expect it to (i.e. everyone just votes for the winner of New Hampshire and we phone it in for the rest of the primaries) that things start to get crazy. Those of us who love the messy process of politics embrace and celebrate the chaos. Some of us seek to create even more chaos. You saw it in 2008 with Rush Limbaugh encouraging Republicans to vote for Clinton to prolong the primary process and you're seeing it today in Michigan going the other direction.
I should point out right away that this issue, like voter fraud, is something that can be used to easily rile people up but doesn't actually occur on a large enough scale to be significant. Yes, there will be Democrats who vote for Santorum today to give Romney less time for his general campaign - or better yet make the unelectable Santorum the Republican candidate - but most Democrats will stay home or cast a symbolic vote for Obama. Which is why you won't hear any long-term talk about changing primary rules in states to prevent this, but it is fun to debate the ethics.
It's easy to see that this is weak politics, everybody knows that. Attempting to influence politics by selecting a candidate in a primary that you would never dream of voting for in a general election, while perfectly legal in Michigan, is a weak political game. It goes against the whole purpose of democracy, which is to allow people to select the leaders they desire. If you are a Democrat and you vote for Santorum today, you are behaving wrongly. This is the same to me as redistricting fights, or attempts to disenfranchise voters, neither of which I will ever understand. Yes, I understand the desire to have your party stay in power, but you choose a party because you believe that their views are what's best for the area they represent. If you believe so strongly in what they're doing, why not let the strength of their arguments influence the election instead of political trickery?
The question gets more complicated, though, when you get into this article I read today:
'Romney blasts Santorum for 'dirty trick' calls to Michigan Dems encouraging vote in GOP primary'
Two important notes first:
1) I don't normally get my coverage from Fox News (though I don't rule them out either - all voices are important) but this popped up on my Google News feed.
2) How have editors not figured out at this point to avoid phrases like "blasts Santorum"? Come on, guys. We know you know what it means.
So now Rick Santorum is (supposedly) sending robo-calls to Democrats, explicitly courting them to cross over. His campaign is itself engaging in sabotage of the Republican primary. And doing it in they shady political way of waiting until the night before so that there isn't time for your opponents to use this information against you. Everything about it is easy to villianize, especially if you're in the Romney camp. Yet if you think about it, if this is actually happening and not just a smear from the Romney folks, Santorum's not doing anything wrong. Rick Santorum is asking people to vote for Rick Santorum. Yes, he's asking people who wouldn't normally vote for him, but what's so wrong with that? Americans are frustrated with the deadlock and have been since way before this past year; what's so bad about a Republican asking Democrats to engage in some bi-partisanship? Of course, it should be noted that for the most part this is a political ploy to capitalize on the trickery of others. Still I can't find any argument that would make it unethical for Santorum to court Democrats, even if their reasons for wanting him to win in Michigan are so vastly different. Democrats shouldn't be crossing over in this primary, but why can't a guy ask for a little help wherever he can get it?
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
Saturday, February 18, 2012
Book Review: Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman
Like many who have spent an extended time there I am in love with Eau Claire, Wisconsin. I would like to consider it my hometown, not that I grew up there; I only spent the best six years of my life there. It has had its modest place in the national spotlight recently with Bon Iver's success at the Grammys. But Bon Iver is just one aspect of a thriving artistic community. There are many other musicians, painters, artists of all kinds and in the woods not too far away, an author: Neil Gaiman.
Now Gaiman is not an actual Eau Claire resident, nor is he a native son. He is a Brit who has taken up a second residence about half an hour from the city in a secret location, presumably to find peace and quiet. I give you all this background not to try and claim his works as the product of my city but to explain how I came across this book. Because the local cultural magazine, Volume One, does consider him part of the local culture and strives to keep us all informed of his activities. Makes sense. When a renowned author chooses to live in your part of the world that's exciting, even if his goal is to escape civilization. So he comes up every few issues.
My best friend from college knows I love and miss Eau Claire, and he knows I love the essays the online editor writes in each issue so, being a great friend, he clips them out and sends them to me. Well, a recent essay used Gaiman's Neverwhere to explain a point about the local cultural scene and my friend had a copy so he sent it along in the mail. Like I said, great guy, and thanks to him I had a new book to read.
Neverwhere is about a secret underworld made of lost and forgotten bits of London from across the ages. Our protagonist, Richard Mayhew, is your typical mild-mannered nobody who accidentally finds himself in London Below. While trying to find his way home and get his life back to normal he becomes wrapped up in a major plot and ends up having to summon his courage and believe in himself to save the world. If it sounds like a cliched action fantasy story that's because it is, but that doesn't make it a bad book outright.
I was skeptical going into this book for many reasons, the first of which was the predictability of fantasy stories. I had never read anything by Gaiman before but I saw the movie Stardust - based on one of his books - and thought it was just completely terrible. My friend who lent me the book has very similar tastes to me and recommends a lot of great stuff, but he also enjoys a lot of things that are, shall we say, less than great so the recommendation is not a guarantee. And really I'm just not a fantasy guy. There are a few devices in fantasy writing that just rub me the wrong way:
1) When authors describe someone performing an action, usually at the beginning of a story, without letting you know who the person is. "The man walked down a dark alleyway, blood dripping from his hand..." The idea of it is to draw in your interest but I think it's a very weak way of creating suspense.
2) When characters in a fantasy world explain things matter-of-factly as if they are obvious and then offer no explanation. The newcomer asks how something works and the native of the fantasy world gives a one sentence explanation, always ending with "of course." This is fine, because that which is fantastic to us is commonplace to them. But I never understood why after this the explainer neither notices or cares that the other person is still visibly confused.
In Neverwhere, Gaiman is guilty of every fantasy cliche that bugs me. And yet I found myself enjoying myself. My skepticism was wrong; I liked the book. There's a joy and a passion in the writing that is contagious. Gaiman clearly loves his characters, and loves his city and loves playing with language. Altogether it just makes for a fun read.
One of the reviews on the back of the book refers to it as a modern Alice in Wonderland. This is a comparison that's made a lot but it's fitting here. It's not like Alice in Wonderland in the way that so many have lazily taken old stories and made them "creepy." You won't find specific characters or events that are analogues to, say, the white rabbit or caterpillar, though at one point Gaiman describing a character as "smiling like a cheshire cat." What you will find is a completely original story written in the spirit of Alice in Wonderland. There is a naive and innocent protagonist with a dull life who stumbles into adventure and finds he was a lot happier being bored. There is a slew of creative characters and locations, and I really do mean creative. I was delighted each time to see what we would be presented with next, and the new arrivals rarely disappointed. But the feature of the book that most emulated Lewis Carroll was the experimentation and manipulation of the English language. The only word I can find to accurately describe Gaiman's prose is exuberant. Even though his story copies other fantasy stories, his language takes common fantasy phrases (i.e. "once upon a time") and turns them on their heads. He seems to be making jokes with himself and sassing the audience half the time and it's really endearing. You can tell he's having fun and as a result you start to have fun. It's the strongest quality of the book.
I'm glad I gave Neil Gaiman a chance even though I hate his movies. Because any adaptation of his work is doomed to fail; it can never capture what makes his work great. The strength of his literature is not in what he writes but in the way he writes it.
Now Gaiman is not an actual Eau Claire resident, nor is he a native son. He is a Brit who has taken up a second residence about half an hour from the city in a secret location, presumably to find peace and quiet. I give you all this background not to try and claim his works as the product of my city but to explain how I came across this book. Because the local cultural magazine, Volume One, does consider him part of the local culture and strives to keep us all informed of his activities. Makes sense. When a renowned author chooses to live in your part of the world that's exciting, even if his goal is to escape civilization. So he comes up every few issues.
My best friend from college knows I love and miss Eau Claire, and he knows I love the essays the online editor writes in each issue so, being a great friend, he clips them out and sends them to me. Well, a recent essay used Gaiman's Neverwhere to explain a point about the local cultural scene and my friend had a copy so he sent it along in the mail. Like I said, great guy, and thanks to him I had a new book to read.
Neverwhere is about a secret underworld made of lost and forgotten bits of London from across the ages. Our protagonist, Richard Mayhew, is your typical mild-mannered nobody who accidentally finds himself in London Below. While trying to find his way home and get his life back to normal he becomes wrapped up in a major plot and ends up having to summon his courage and believe in himself to save the world. If it sounds like a cliched action fantasy story that's because it is, but that doesn't make it a bad book outright.
I was skeptical going into this book for many reasons, the first of which was the predictability of fantasy stories. I had never read anything by Gaiman before but I saw the movie Stardust - based on one of his books - and thought it was just completely terrible. My friend who lent me the book has very similar tastes to me and recommends a lot of great stuff, but he also enjoys a lot of things that are, shall we say, less than great so the recommendation is not a guarantee. And really I'm just not a fantasy guy. There are a few devices in fantasy writing that just rub me the wrong way:
1) When authors describe someone performing an action, usually at the beginning of a story, without letting you know who the person is. "The man walked down a dark alleyway, blood dripping from his hand..." The idea of it is to draw in your interest but I think it's a very weak way of creating suspense.
2) When characters in a fantasy world explain things matter-of-factly as if they are obvious and then offer no explanation. The newcomer asks how something works and the native of the fantasy world gives a one sentence explanation, always ending with "of course." This is fine, because that which is fantastic to us is commonplace to them. But I never understood why after this the explainer neither notices or cares that the other person is still visibly confused.
In Neverwhere, Gaiman is guilty of every fantasy cliche that bugs me. And yet I found myself enjoying myself. My skepticism was wrong; I liked the book. There's a joy and a passion in the writing that is contagious. Gaiman clearly loves his characters, and loves his city and loves playing with language. Altogether it just makes for a fun read.
One of the reviews on the back of the book refers to it as a modern Alice in Wonderland. This is a comparison that's made a lot but it's fitting here. It's not like Alice in Wonderland in the way that so many have lazily taken old stories and made them "creepy." You won't find specific characters or events that are analogues to, say, the white rabbit or caterpillar, though at one point Gaiman describing a character as "smiling like a cheshire cat." What you will find is a completely original story written in the spirit of Alice in Wonderland. There is a naive and innocent protagonist with a dull life who stumbles into adventure and finds he was a lot happier being bored. There is a slew of creative characters and locations, and I really do mean creative. I was delighted each time to see what we would be presented with next, and the new arrivals rarely disappointed. But the feature of the book that most emulated Lewis Carroll was the experimentation and manipulation of the English language. The only word I can find to accurately describe Gaiman's prose is exuberant. Even though his story copies other fantasy stories, his language takes common fantasy phrases (i.e. "once upon a time") and turns them on their heads. He seems to be making jokes with himself and sassing the audience half the time and it's really endearing. You can tell he's having fun and as a result you start to have fun. It's the strongest quality of the book.
I'm glad I gave Neil Gaiman a chance even though I hate his movies. Because any adaptation of his work is doomed to fail; it can never capture what makes his work great. The strength of his literature is not in what he writes but in the way he writes it.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
Book Review: River of Smoke by Amitav Ghosh
I spent a lot of time on this book. I got it from the library the same time I got the last book I read, Crumbtown, and ended up having to renew it and then three weeks later cram in the last 150 pages to avoid a late fee. That last day was quite nice, though. I ought to spend five or six hour chunks reading more often. Good for the mind, good for the soul.
This is a roundabout, meandering way of explaning that this book is BIG. In many ways. Big in ambition, big in scope, big in number of pages; it comes with a substantial heft and would make a satisfactory projectile. It aims to cover the lives of around a dozen characters while accurately representing a historical period little known by its audience all while keeping the reader engaged. Does it succeed at all this? Commence the review.
Summarizing the plot is a challenge because there is so much going on. At its heart this is the tale of a trade dispute. It takes place in 1838 Canton (now Ghangzou), the heart of the opium trade. After years of unbalanced trade and societal issues the Chinese Emperor is trying to end once and for all the illegal opium trade in China. The British and Indian merchants who benefit from the trade fight against this and a war of words and politics ensue. Which sounds terribly boring but it's such a small portion of what is actually happening in the book. Really we are intimately following the lives of the myriad foreigners living in Canton. Some of them are merchants, yes, but most are artists and botanists and chefs and laborers, each on his or her own quest to take what China will give.
Each character is distinct in motivation and voice. Part of this is because Ghosh pays particular attention to language. Whenever possible he incorporates actual instances of Chinese or Bengali or the pidgin language that merchants developed for transactions between speakers of different languages. This is offered with as translation as possible; the reader is expected to rely on context clues to decipher what is being said. But even beyond which language is used, the way that it's being used differentiates each character. You could go through each section having blacked out all the names and still know who is speaking. It makes the balancing act of following a whole slew of characters much easier.
Reading this book I felt like I was a welcome intruder in a fully-formed and self-sustaining world, just watching people go about their business. Ghosh gives unbelievably explicit detail about the smallest thing. A character walks on a ship and we hear endless descriptions about the ship's floorboards and woodwork. There's ship that is used specifically for transporting new plants from China to England and in one of the most fascinating passages of the book Ghosh devotes a few pages to the crew's practice of composting everything they eat at Sea. I can't even fathom the amount of research that went into this book, but it pays off. Everything is so clear; you form a picture in your mind and it stays with you.
And this is the beauty of the reading experience. As a reader you just drift through this world, from character to character, concern to concern. I don't want to call it directionless because that sounds negative. Maybe free-flowing. When I was getting close to the day I had to return it to the library but only found myself halfway through I didn't fret at all. I figured I'd just inhabit this world as long as I could and then just move somewhere else. I was actually a little disappointed when, about two thirds of the way in, the plot took off. I understand the story has to go somewhere but I never wanted it to. Still I was so enthralled I powered through to the end and I have no regrets.
I discussed this with a friend who read Ghosh's last book and hated it, seemingly for the same reason for I loved it. I can understand, too. This is a certain type of book for a certain type of person. Maybe you don't want to hear about what different types of boats look like. Maybe when language is given in the pidgin language with minimal translation you can frustrated. If you are the type of person that needs to understand exactly what is happening in a book then this is the sort of book you'll have to read sitting by your computer, tuned in to a dictionary and Wikipedia at the same time. But if you're looking for an atmosphere to float through and observe, pick this up and enjoy the ride.
This is a roundabout, meandering way of explaning that this book is BIG. In many ways. Big in ambition, big in scope, big in number of pages; it comes with a substantial heft and would make a satisfactory projectile. It aims to cover the lives of around a dozen characters while accurately representing a historical period little known by its audience all while keeping the reader engaged. Does it succeed at all this? Commence the review.
Summarizing the plot is a challenge because there is so much going on. At its heart this is the tale of a trade dispute. It takes place in 1838 Canton (now Ghangzou), the heart of the opium trade. After years of unbalanced trade and societal issues the Chinese Emperor is trying to end once and for all the illegal opium trade in China. The British and Indian merchants who benefit from the trade fight against this and a war of words and politics ensue. Which sounds terribly boring but it's such a small portion of what is actually happening in the book. Really we are intimately following the lives of the myriad foreigners living in Canton. Some of them are merchants, yes, but most are artists and botanists and chefs and laborers, each on his or her own quest to take what China will give.
Each character is distinct in motivation and voice. Part of this is because Ghosh pays particular attention to language. Whenever possible he incorporates actual instances of Chinese or Bengali or the pidgin language that merchants developed for transactions between speakers of different languages. This is offered with as translation as possible; the reader is expected to rely on context clues to decipher what is being said. But even beyond which language is used, the way that it's being used differentiates each character. You could go through each section having blacked out all the names and still know who is speaking. It makes the balancing act of following a whole slew of characters much easier.
Reading this book I felt like I was a welcome intruder in a fully-formed and self-sustaining world, just watching people go about their business. Ghosh gives unbelievably explicit detail about the smallest thing. A character walks on a ship and we hear endless descriptions about the ship's floorboards and woodwork. There's ship that is used specifically for transporting new plants from China to England and in one of the most fascinating passages of the book Ghosh devotes a few pages to the crew's practice of composting everything they eat at Sea. I can't even fathom the amount of research that went into this book, but it pays off. Everything is so clear; you form a picture in your mind and it stays with you.
And this is the beauty of the reading experience. As a reader you just drift through this world, from character to character, concern to concern. I don't want to call it directionless because that sounds negative. Maybe free-flowing. When I was getting close to the day I had to return it to the library but only found myself halfway through I didn't fret at all. I figured I'd just inhabit this world as long as I could and then just move somewhere else. I was actually a little disappointed when, about two thirds of the way in, the plot took off. I understand the story has to go somewhere but I never wanted it to. Still I was so enthralled I powered through to the end and I have no regrets.
I discussed this with a friend who read Ghosh's last book and hated it, seemingly for the same reason for I loved it. I can understand, too. This is a certain type of book for a certain type of person. Maybe you don't want to hear about what different types of boats look like. Maybe when language is given in the pidgin language with minimal translation you can frustrated. If you are the type of person that needs to understand exactly what is happening in a book then this is the sort of book you'll have to read sitting by your computer, tuned in to a dictionary and Wikipedia at the same time. But if you're looking for an atmosphere to float through and observe, pick this up and enjoy the ride.
Thursday, January 19, 2012
The State of American Discourse, pt 1: Mitt Romney's Taxes
I'm not ashamed to admit that I love politics. By this I mean actual politics (people sharing and debating ideas to determine which course of action best solves society's problems) not what passes for politics today (a bunch of people trying to yell louder than one another). For this reason I, like many of you, am very disillusioned by the way politics is handled today, both in the media and by the politicians themselves. But not disillusioned enough to turn away. I have a curious fascination with it all. In the same way that film buffs sometimes love bad movies most of all, I am obsessed with bad politics and bad journalism. So I've decided to make a segment to discuss the many, MANY, MANY times that people remove political discourse from the realm of the useful and transplant it into the world of Shit That Does Not Matter At All, distracting you from what we should be discussing. So, without further ado...
The Republican primary race. Mitt Romney is in the lead, as he should be. Being the most centrist candidate and therefore the most likely to attract independent voters, anyone with the most basic understanding of presidential politics can see why he would emerge as the front runner. Anyone except Newt Gingrinch, who himself wants to be the front runner. Unfortunately his stance on the issues and his winning personality have only brought him to third place and he needs an extra push forward to get to the lead. Or instead of pushing to the lead he could just cut down everyone in front of him. Let's go with that one.
So his plan has been to pressure Romney into releasing his income tax returns, saying that it's important for voters to not have to face any surprise revelations later in the year. I love this tactic for its ridiculousness. Firstly, Romney is a career politician. He's held multiple elected positions over a long period of time; anything hiding in his tax returns would have come out by now. Secondly, since when did the party of no taxes start judging a candidate's character off of what he pays in income taxes? Best of all is just the process of watching a bunch of millionaires who spend most of their time defending millionaires suddenly spar over who is the biggest, elitist and therefore worst millionaire.
Mitt Romney will make his taxes public if he gets the nomination. He has to; it's the law. I can understand if Newt doesn't like this process, but it is the way it was before he started running for president. He wasn't asking anyone to release their tax returns back in Iowa. Why does he bring it up only when he's finding himself looking up the totem pole with precious little time? The American primary system is unique. It's downright bizarre. But no one was complaining about that during the few months every four years when candidates pretend they care about Iowa. No one complains as we dart from the Midwest to New England to the South weeding out potential candidates while a state like Hawaii, who is already basically left out of the presidential election by virtue of their late time zone, has no chance of impacting the race considering how late their primary is.
Newt Gingrich is painting this as a matter of integrity. If Mitt Romney was only more honest, he'd tell us how much money he makes. Yet Romney is the one behaving with dignity. He committed to the electoral system we have, with its strengths and weaknesses, and is following its flawed rules. He could even quell this whole thing by releasing his taxes, where he surely has nothing to hide, but that would be giving in to a bully. Whereas Newt had no problem with a primary system that favors the voice of some Americans over others until he found a rule that makes it personally harder for him to become president. Then it's an injustice. Where's the integrity in that?
The Republican primary race. Mitt Romney is in the lead, as he should be. Being the most centrist candidate and therefore the most likely to attract independent voters, anyone with the most basic understanding of presidential politics can see why he would emerge as the front runner. Anyone except Newt Gingrinch, who himself wants to be the front runner. Unfortunately his stance on the issues and his winning personality have only brought him to third place and he needs an extra push forward to get to the lead. Or instead of pushing to the lead he could just cut down everyone in front of him. Let's go with that one.
So his plan has been to pressure Romney into releasing his income tax returns, saying that it's important for voters to not have to face any surprise revelations later in the year. I love this tactic for its ridiculousness. Firstly, Romney is a career politician. He's held multiple elected positions over a long period of time; anything hiding in his tax returns would have come out by now. Secondly, since when did the party of no taxes start judging a candidate's character off of what he pays in income taxes? Best of all is just the process of watching a bunch of millionaires who spend most of their time defending millionaires suddenly spar over who is the biggest, elitist and therefore worst millionaire.
Mitt Romney will make his taxes public if he gets the nomination. He has to; it's the law. I can understand if Newt doesn't like this process, but it is the way it was before he started running for president. He wasn't asking anyone to release their tax returns back in Iowa. Why does he bring it up only when he's finding himself looking up the totem pole with precious little time? The American primary system is unique. It's downright bizarre. But no one was complaining about that during the few months every four years when candidates pretend they care about Iowa. No one complains as we dart from the Midwest to New England to the South weeding out potential candidates while a state like Hawaii, who is already basically left out of the presidential election by virtue of their late time zone, has no chance of impacting the race considering how late their primary is.
Newt Gingrich is painting this as a matter of integrity. If Mitt Romney was only more honest, he'd tell us how much money he makes. Yet Romney is the one behaving with dignity. He committed to the electoral system we have, with its strengths and weaknesses, and is following its flawed rules. He could even quell this whole thing by releasing his taxes, where he surely has nothing to hide, but that would be giving in to a bully. Whereas Newt had no problem with a primary system that favors the voice of some Americans over others until he found a rule that makes it personally harder for him to become president. Then it's an injustice. Where's the integrity in that?
Sunday, December 25, 2011
It was the Worst Christmas Special Ever
There is a lot of junk that comes along with Christmas. Junk presents, junk songs, junk movies, junk such as starting the shortened NBA season on Christmas Day as if it were a sport like football or baseball that people actually have a deep emotional connection to. These are the things we dredge through on the way to all the quality aspects of the holiday. Personally I prefer Christmas Eve over Christmas Day anyway, as my family has a fantastic tradition of each person making diverse and unique appetizers for dinner. But I digress. I'm here to talk about the junk. Specifically this Christmas special I saw on the usually reliable ABC Family last night.
'Twas the Night Before Christmas (link to Wikipedia synopsis. I'll send you to the YouTube at the end of this)
You would think perhaps from the title that this was a retelling of the popular but really not that good poem we all know (Fun Fact: actual title is "A Visit from St. Nicholas"). I'm fairly certain that this title was chosen simply to draw in unsuspecting viewers hoping for something familiar. What you get instead is a heavy-handed morality tale that itself is actually quite immoral.
The story is about a fictional town named Junctionville, NY where mice and humans oddly coexist. Someone from the town publishes an anonymous letter to Santa signed "All Of Us" proclaiming that we all know you're fake it's obvious there's no way you can possibly exist why did you lie to us. Santa for some reason reads the Junctionville Register (oh, that's how he keeps up on who's been naughty: police blotters in local papers) and returns all letters from Junctionville unopened. The town clockmaker tries to program their clock tower to play a song which will convince Santa he is still loved and cause him to come to town, but it breaks and EVERYTHING IS RUINED. Until the little mouse who wrote the letter in the first place comes and fixes the clock and Santa returns.
I'm not here to complain about the shoddy quality of the animation, the kind that's clearly turned out quickly for a Christmas special, though let's take a peak:
I take offense to the messages here. Christmas is one of those interesting cultural artifacts that everyone is trying to put their own definition on. "Christmas to me means..." And there are so many conflicting definitions. What's interesting is that no one is vetting these interpretations, except me and my warrior blog. Any time a song mentions Santa or winter or snow (but please not Jesus) it gets automatic radio play and becomes part of the cultural definition of the Christmas season. Doubly so with TV shows, as we have that week before Christmas where networks only play Christmas specials and we all gather around to watch them. But what comes of this is whenever someone has the power to to make a television special about Christmas, they have the power to redefine Christmas.
Generally this is a good thing. Not many people are going to disagree with the message of "It's A Wonderful Life." A good version of "The Christmas Carol" will teach you a lot about life. I saw one the other day with Patrick Stewart that apparently was made by the SyFy channel but it was AWESOME. It starts to get shakier between those two. Elf, for example. Excellent movie for its entertainment value and one of Will Ferrell's funniest roles. But you leave the movie with the message that Christmas is about singing a lot and being cheerful for no specific reason. Nice message, I guess, nothing wrong with positivity. My honest belief is that they loved the character of Buddy immensely (who wouldn't?) but just had no way to end the movie so they did it that way. Dumb message, but no harm done. Whereas "Twas the Night Before Christmas" is openly bullshit.
There's a very clear agenda going on in the story. The wording of little Albert the Mouse's proclamation to Santa sounds like an atheist manifesto where the word God has been crossed out and replaced it with Santa. This mouse is highly intelligent and into science so he doesn't have time for Santa. Boo hiss. Eventually he comes around to the Santa party and the message is that a man of science can still be a man of faith, which isn't a bad message, but it's so over the head. It's not a realization that you come to through the course of the story; it's evident in the first two minutes. The innuendos in Katy Perry songs are more subtle that the message of this film. But that's not what irks me; that's just bad scriptwriting. Plus it brings us such awesome wacky lines as "You may know algebra, son, but this time the whole town's counting on this clock.
Here's the real problem. The way that Albert is convinced to come around is by everyone in the story being a complete dick and guilting. After it comes out that he wrote the letter his father takes him around to show him all the ways he ruined Christmas (his words, not mine). When the clockmaker's clock doesn't work the whole town turns on him as if HE had ruined Christmas, and then denies him further access to try and fix his mistakes. But worst of all is Santa. What the hell Santa? You see one letter claiming don't believe in you and you're so petty that you tell the whole town to piss off? This is where you can't just have any hack screenwriter churning out these Christmas specials. That's not how Santa would act, not at all.
I believe one of the many purposes of Santa is to begin to introduce children to the more difficult concepts of Christianity. Christianity Lite. A child's mind is not developed enough to understand ideas of sacrifice. But they can understand someone who gives and asks for nothing in return. They can't truly understand sin but they can understand that you do better if you're on the nice list. Yes it's weird to do it in such a commercial way; I'm not saying there's much of anything right with modern Christmas traditions. But whether or not you're a Christian I can't see anyone getting behind the idea that Santa gives out presents so that people will thank him and sing him songs. Or that Santa will stop as soon as we say one mean thing about him.
You may think I'm putting too much thought into this. I also realize that when put into words I sound a lot more fired up about this than I am; really I just found this to be a laughably bad Christmas special. But these shows are supposed to warm our hearts and inspire us to be nicer to each other, and all this one did was make me think Santa's an asshole.
'Twas the Night Before Christmas (link to Wikipedia synopsis. I'll send you to the YouTube at the end of this)
You would think perhaps from the title that this was a retelling of the popular but really not that good poem we all know (Fun Fact: actual title is "A Visit from St. Nicholas"). I'm fairly certain that this title was chosen simply to draw in unsuspecting viewers hoping for something familiar. What you get instead is a heavy-handed morality tale that itself is actually quite immoral.
The story is about a fictional town named Junctionville, NY where mice and humans oddly coexist. Someone from the town publishes an anonymous letter to Santa signed "All Of Us" proclaiming that we all know you're fake it's obvious there's no way you can possibly exist why did you lie to us. Santa for some reason reads the Junctionville Register (oh, that's how he keeps up on who's been naughty: police blotters in local papers) and returns all letters from Junctionville unopened. The town clockmaker tries to program their clock tower to play a song which will convince Santa he is still loved and cause him to come to town, but it breaks and EVERYTHING IS RUINED. Until the little mouse who wrote the letter in the first place comes and fixes the clock and Santa returns.
I'm not here to complain about the shoddy quality of the animation, the kind that's clearly turned out quickly for a Christmas special, though let's take a peak:
What is with your eyes, girl?
I take offense to the messages here. Christmas is one of those interesting cultural artifacts that everyone is trying to put their own definition on. "Christmas to me means..." And there are so many conflicting definitions. What's interesting is that no one is vetting these interpretations, except me and my warrior blog. Any time a song mentions Santa or winter or snow (but please not Jesus) it gets automatic radio play and becomes part of the cultural definition of the Christmas season. Doubly so with TV shows, as we have that week before Christmas where networks only play Christmas specials and we all gather around to watch them. But what comes of this is whenever someone has the power to to make a television special about Christmas, they have the power to redefine Christmas.
Generally this is a good thing. Not many people are going to disagree with the message of "It's A Wonderful Life." A good version of "The Christmas Carol" will teach you a lot about life. I saw one the other day with Patrick Stewart that apparently was made by the SyFy channel but it was AWESOME. It starts to get shakier between those two. Elf, for example. Excellent movie for its entertainment value and one of Will Ferrell's funniest roles. But you leave the movie with the message that Christmas is about singing a lot and being cheerful for no specific reason. Nice message, I guess, nothing wrong with positivity. My honest belief is that they loved the character of Buddy immensely (who wouldn't?) but just had no way to end the movie so they did it that way. Dumb message, but no harm done. Whereas "Twas the Night Before Christmas" is openly bullshit.
There's a very clear agenda going on in the story. The wording of little Albert the Mouse's proclamation to Santa sounds like an atheist manifesto where the word God has been crossed out and replaced it with Santa. This mouse is highly intelligent and into science so he doesn't have time for Santa. Boo hiss. Eventually he comes around to the Santa party and the message is that a man of science can still be a man of faith, which isn't a bad message, but it's so over the head. It's not a realization that you come to through the course of the story; it's evident in the first two minutes. The innuendos in Katy Perry songs are more subtle that the message of this film. But that's not what irks me; that's just bad scriptwriting. Plus it brings us such awesome wacky lines as "You may know algebra, son, but this time the whole town's counting on this clock.
Here's the real problem. The way that Albert is convinced to come around is by everyone in the story being a complete dick and guilting. After it comes out that he wrote the letter his father takes him around to show him all the ways he ruined Christmas (his words, not mine). When the clockmaker's clock doesn't work the whole town turns on him as if HE had ruined Christmas, and then denies him further access to try and fix his mistakes. But worst of all is Santa. What the hell Santa? You see one letter claiming don't believe in you and you're so petty that you tell the whole town to piss off? This is where you can't just have any hack screenwriter churning out these Christmas specials. That's not how Santa would act, not at all.
I believe one of the many purposes of Santa is to begin to introduce children to the more difficult concepts of Christianity. Christianity Lite. A child's mind is not developed enough to understand ideas of sacrifice. But they can understand someone who gives and asks for nothing in return. They can't truly understand sin but they can understand that you do better if you're on the nice list. Yes it's weird to do it in such a commercial way; I'm not saying there's much of anything right with modern Christmas traditions. But whether or not you're a Christian I can't see anyone getting behind the idea that Santa gives out presents so that people will thank him and sing him songs. Or that Santa will stop as soon as we say one mean thing about him.
You may think I'm putting too much thought into this. I also realize that when put into words I sound a lot more fired up about this than I am; really I just found this to be a laughably bad Christmas special. But these shows are supposed to warm our hearts and inspire us to be nicer to each other, and all this one did was make me think Santa's an asshole.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Book Review: Crumbtown by Joe Connelly
This ended up being a good palate cleanser after two really heavy books. Something short and light-hearted and comical. Another find on the library stacks, this one jumped at me but had its warning signs, too. On the book jacket there were a ton of positive reviews for the author's first book, and none for this one. Highly suspicious. So let's jump right in and see what I thought about it.
The concept of the book at least in terms of plot is brilliant. A serial criminal spends multiple stints in prison, the last of which is for a Robin Hood-style bank robbery where he throws cash to people on the street. But he lives in a town so desolate and run-down that television studios have made it a habit of filming their crime shows there ("It looks more like New York than New York does, they say"). This leads to the prison creating a program where prisoners can receive early parole if they take on jobs on movie sets as crime consultants. Our main character, Don, becomes a consultant for a show romanticizing his own crime spree.
I misjudged the direction of the book at first. I thought it was going to be a story of redemption slowly played out through the making of the show. As it turned out, it was actually a comedy of errors. Within an hour Don goes back to his thieving ways and unleashes a string of chaotic events - including an attempt at robbing the scene of the reenactment of his bank robbery, which for some inexplicable reason is using real money.
In a lot of ways this was a good thing. The story plays out like a modern day Ulysses (which I haven't read and therefore will make no deeper comparisons). It's fascinating to see how one day in one town can change so many lives irreparably. At least it would be fascinating if the whole situation weren't so contrived and impossible.
The style of the book is very punk rock. Things move quickly. People make rash decisions. The chapters fly by in a blur of noise and music. More noise than music. You'll find it almost a chore to keep track of which characters are which, not just because there are so many of them in such a rapid succession. The real reason is because there is so little discerning them. Everyone's a drunk or a junkie with a regrettable past, and it tends to be that the only thing that separates characters are their afflictions. It's not until the final act (the story is divided into acts, like Shakespeare I guess?) that you start to get a feel for any of the individual character's souls. There are some beautiful moments then, but for the most point the train has already come off the tracks and you're left wondering why Connelly didn't build them up when he still had the reader on his side.
This even extends to the main character, who should at least be a little more defined. His first day out of prison, his first hour out of prison, he's immediately into trouble. He's required by law to keep in touch with his parole officer by phone and always answer when she calls. But when he can't figure out how to answer his cell phone (it's 2003 and he's been in prison for 15 years) he panics, runs out of his hotel room and then goes on a crime spree. Now I understand the idea that criminal behavior can be a disease that one never recovers from; I'm sympathetic to that. But after 260 pages I still have absolutely no idea what caused Don to make every possible mistake a person can make.
If I had to go back through and count how many times someone was bit by a car in this book, I don't think I could. Same thing with people getting shot. And people falling in love. There is a woman in the book, Rita. She is the muse of the man writing the TV show that sets everything into motion. She is also the muse of every criminal in the story. And just about everyone who meets here. Yet we know absolutely nothing about her as a person except that she's beautiful, has a Russian accent and is constantly bored/annoyed. Nothing to inspire the reader to love her. I got the feeling that Connelly based her on someone he knows in life, someone he felt deeply in love with. And in the way that a man falls for a woman suddenly and inexplicably, he thought by just writing about her it would make perfect sense to the reader the way it makes perfect sense to him. That or he just writes very one-dimensional female characters.
Reading this far you would think I found nothing positive about this book, but I did. There was a lot of good happening too. There is one fascinating character who is such an obsessive method actor that when asked to play the role of a criminal he becomes a criminal. There's a beautiful moment where a man is reading his list of demands to police and it quickly morphs from a humorous list of things the police could never provide (I want Ted Williams to play baseball again) to a heartbreaking list of things the police could never provide (I want my mother to understand me). There is a man who even as he lies dying from being shot by his wife still tries everything in his power to make her happy.
These moments are powerful but are few and far between. The rest of the book plays out too quickly with too little substance. In a lot of ways it's paced like a TV show. Being a book about a TV show, that could possibly be seen as an interesting commentary. I just felt like my time would have been better spent actually watching TV.
The concept of the book at least in terms of plot is brilliant. A serial criminal spends multiple stints in prison, the last of which is for a Robin Hood-style bank robbery where he throws cash to people on the street. But he lives in a town so desolate and run-down that television studios have made it a habit of filming their crime shows there ("It looks more like New York than New York does, they say"). This leads to the prison creating a program where prisoners can receive early parole if they take on jobs on movie sets as crime consultants. Our main character, Don, becomes a consultant for a show romanticizing his own crime spree.
I misjudged the direction of the book at first. I thought it was going to be a story of redemption slowly played out through the making of the show. As it turned out, it was actually a comedy of errors. Within an hour Don goes back to his thieving ways and unleashes a string of chaotic events - including an attempt at robbing the scene of the reenactment of his bank robbery, which for some inexplicable reason is using real money.
In a lot of ways this was a good thing. The story plays out like a modern day Ulysses (which I haven't read and therefore will make no deeper comparisons). It's fascinating to see how one day in one town can change so many lives irreparably. At least it would be fascinating if the whole situation weren't so contrived and impossible.
The style of the book is very punk rock. Things move quickly. People make rash decisions. The chapters fly by in a blur of noise and music. More noise than music. You'll find it almost a chore to keep track of which characters are which, not just because there are so many of them in such a rapid succession. The real reason is because there is so little discerning them. Everyone's a drunk or a junkie with a regrettable past, and it tends to be that the only thing that separates characters are their afflictions. It's not until the final act (the story is divided into acts, like Shakespeare I guess?) that you start to get a feel for any of the individual character's souls. There are some beautiful moments then, but for the most point the train has already come off the tracks and you're left wondering why Connelly didn't build them up when he still had the reader on his side.
This even extends to the main character, who should at least be a little more defined. His first day out of prison, his first hour out of prison, he's immediately into trouble. He's required by law to keep in touch with his parole officer by phone and always answer when she calls. But when he can't figure out how to answer his cell phone (it's 2003 and he's been in prison for 15 years) he panics, runs out of his hotel room and then goes on a crime spree. Now I understand the idea that criminal behavior can be a disease that one never recovers from; I'm sympathetic to that. But after 260 pages I still have absolutely no idea what caused Don to make every possible mistake a person can make.
If I had to go back through and count how many times someone was bit by a car in this book, I don't think I could. Same thing with people getting shot. And people falling in love. There is a woman in the book, Rita. She is the muse of the man writing the TV show that sets everything into motion. She is also the muse of every criminal in the story. And just about everyone who meets here. Yet we know absolutely nothing about her as a person except that she's beautiful, has a Russian accent and is constantly bored/annoyed. Nothing to inspire the reader to love her. I got the feeling that Connelly based her on someone he knows in life, someone he felt deeply in love with. And in the way that a man falls for a woman suddenly and inexplicably, he thought by just writing about her it would make perfect sense to the reader the way it makes perfect sense to him. That or he just writes very one-dimensional female characters.
Reading this far you would think I found nothing positive about this book, but I did. There was a lot of good happening too. There is one fascinating character who is such an obsessive method actor that when asked to play the role of a criminal he becomes a criminal. There's a beautiful moment where a man is reading his list of demands to police and it quickly morphs from a humorous list of things the police could never provide (I want Ted Williams to play baseball again) to a heartbreaking list of things the police could never provide (I want my mother to understand me). There is a man who even as he lies dying from being shot by his wife still tries everything in his power to make her happy.
These moments are powerful but are few and far between. The rest of the book plays out too quickly with too little substance. In a lot of ways it's paced like a TV show. Being a book about a TV show, that could possibly be seen as an interesting commentary. I just felt like my time would have been better spent actually watching TV.
Monday, December 19, 2011
Time and the Passing of it
I've been considering the idea recently that I'm addicted to wasing time. It's definitely an activity I would consider myself an expert at. The amount of my free time I spend on activies which provide no real benefit to my life is outstanding. Internet and TV mainly. The usual suspects; Facebook, Twitter, Reddit. It's become a bit of a problem, and something I'm seeking to understand so that I can work to correct it.
I know that addiction is not a word to be used lightly, and I don't intend to. If this is indeed an addiction it is a low-level one without any of the consequences of worse afflictions. But I do acknowledge that inproper use of time or procrastination can be considered self-destructive behaviors. They decrease someone's confidence, self-worth and can have lasting effects on their success. When I'm more than an hour into browsing the internet I'm usually not having any fun. After two hours I'm actively frustrated with myself but often won't just walk away. After three hours we get into the realm of guilt and self-loathing. But something keeps drawing me back.
A lot of the anger I feel with myself when wasting time has to do with the way I view time. Since my sophomore year of college - when I got serious about my studies - I've always mentally divided my activities into useful and useless time and am constantly categorizing everything I do. This is a double-edged sword. On one hand it does keep me focused or at least keeps my eyes on the prize. On the other hand it causes me great amounts of stress and, as I mentioned earlier, guilt. Especially when I feel I can't control how I use my time or get myself to stop doing things I want to do.
I'm also frustratingly arbitrary about the way I categorize my time. Time spent reading a book is useful time. Time spent on the internet is usually considered wasted time, even though I'm often doing just as much reading. I really only use text-based websites; most of the time I'm reading news articles. Time spent watching TV isn't always wasted. If there's a show I watch every week, that's just part of my routine. The problem is if it's 10 am and I just flip on Sportscenter for half an hour even though there are better things I could be doing and really I kind of hate Sportscenter. Writing in the blog is considered useful, though I can never just consistently write; I always feel a need to keep flipping back to social networking sites between paragraphs. Some activities seem obviously productive, like playing bass or exercising. But if I think about them in terms of my long-term goals (finding a career and a place to live), do they get me any closer? I'm not going to be a professional bassist or an athlete. How are they more useful than reading the news?
This last question had frustrated me for a while. I've come close to answering it recently, with a realization about the importance of enjoying life. I feel better if I'm making music; it doesn't matter if it won't ever bring me financial success. After a good workout I feel like a million bucks. I shouldn't feel guilty about spending time with friends instead of searching for jobs, because it improves the quality of my life. These things don't worry me anymore. But wasting time on Reddit doesn't improve the quality of my life in anyway. Yet I can't pull myself away.
The actual addiction I'm referring to here is a physiological need for dopamine. Recent research has shown that the novelty we experience finding new things on time-wasting websites releases dopamine in our brain, which we become addicted to. Unforuntaely the only article I have about it is from the always reliable, never biased Huffington Post, but here ya go: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/russell-poldrack/multitasking-the-brain-se_b_334674.html
Classifying it as an addiction actually makes it easier for me, especially since it really is a low-level addiction. But if I can acknowledge that it makes it easier to approach it as a physiological problem that can be addressed in steps instead of a character weakness. I am not a person incapable of using time productively. I just have a problem that needs to be fixed.
I'm never going to reach a point where I wake up at 6 am and then write, read run and play bass nonstop until I go to bed at midnight and start all over the next day. But I will take steps to reduce my wasted time and resist the urge for a constant dopamine rush. And if I can train myself to see my time-wasting activities as a reward at the end of a productive day instead of my go-to activity, I know I'll enjoy life much better. And like I said earlier, any time spent enjoying life is time well spent.
I know that addiction is not a word to be used lightly, and I don't intend to. If this is indeed an addiction it is a low-level one without any of the consequences of worse afflictions. But I do acknowledge that inproper use of time or procrastination can be considered self-destructive behaviors. They decrease someone's confidence, self-worth and can have lasting effects on their success. When I'm more than an hour into browsing the internet I'm usually not having any fun. After two hours I'm actively frustrated with myself but often won't just walk away. After three hours we get into the realm of guilt and self-loathing. But something keeps drawing me back.
A lot of the anger I feel with myself when wasting time has to do with the way I view time. Since my sophomore year of college - when I got serious about my studies - I've always mentally divided my activities into useful and useless time and am constantly categorizing everything I do. This is a double-edged sword. On one hand it does keep me focused or at least keeps my eyes on the prize. On the other hand it causes me great amounts of stress and, as I mentioned earlier, guilt. Especially when I feel I can't control how I use my time or get myself to stop doing things I want to do.
I'm also frustratingly arbitrary about the way I categorize my time. Time spent reading a book is useful time. Time spent on the internet is usually considered wasted time, even though I'm often doing just as much reading. I really only use text-based websites; most of the time I'm reading news articles. Time spent watching TV isn't always wasted. If there's a show I watch every week, that's just part of my routine. The problem is if it's 10 am and I just flip on Sportscenter for half an hour even though there are better things I could be doing and really I kind of hate Sportscenter. Writing in the blog is considered useful, though I can never just consistently write; I always feel a need to keep flipping back to social networking sites between paragraphs. Some activities seem obviously productive, like playing bass or exercising. But if I think about them in terms of my long-term goals (finding a career and a place to live), do they get me any closer? I'm not going to be a professional bassist or an athlete. How are they more useful than reading the news?
This last question had frustrated me for a while. I've come close to answering it recently, with a realization about the importance of enjoying life. I feel better if I'm making music; it doesn't matter if it won't ever bring me financial success. After a good workout I feel like a million bucks. I shouldn't feel guilty about spending time with friends instead of searching for jobs, because it improves the quality of my life. These things don't worry me anymore. But wasting time on Reddit doesn't improve the quality of my life in anyway. Yet I can't pull myself away.
The actual addiction I'm referring to here is a physiological need for dopamine. Recent research has shown that the novelty we experience finding new things on time-wasting websites releases dopamine in our brain, which we become addicted to. Unforuntaely the only article I have about it is from the always reliable, never biased Huffington Post, but here ya go: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/russell-poldrack/multitasking-the-brain-se_b_334674.html
Classifying it as an addiction actually makes it easier for me, especially since it really is a low-level addiction. But if I can acknowledge that it makes it easier to approach it as a physiological problem that can be addressed in steps instead of a character weakness. I am not a person incapable of using time productively. I just have a problem that needs to be fixed.
I'm never going to reach a point where I wake up at 6 am and then write, read run and play bass nonstop until I go to bed at midnight and start all over the next day. But I will take steps to reduce my wasted time and resist the urge for a constant dopamine rush. And if I can train myself to see my time-wasting activities as a reward at the end of a productive day instead of my go-to activity, I know I'll enjoy life much better. And like I said earlier, any time spent enjoying life is time well spent.
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