Goodreads Book Review: The Art of Racing in the Rain

The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

It's been awhile since I've written one of these.

Garth Stein's The Art of Racing in the Rain had been on my reading list for awhile, but now that it's been adapted into a film, I felt I finally had to get around to reading it.

And I seem to be dissenting from popular opinion (or at least popular opinion as reflected on Goodreads) on this novel. Because while I definitely found The Art of Racing in the Rain to be an enjoyable read, when I reflect upon it, I think this book is really just...ok...definitely not as outstanding as some make it out to be.

I would give it 3.5 starts, but because Goodreads doesn't allow for half-stars I'm rounding down to 3.

I wasn't put off by the premise of the dog-as-narrator, but in this case it didn't fully work for a few reasons. Its hard not to compare it to another popular doggy-narrated book-turned-film, A Dog's Purpose. That book, which was super-sentimental, also got 3 stars from me. However, the voice of the narrator (who is actually multiple reincarnated dogs) actually approached what the inner experience of a dog might be like - navigating the world through a mix of the five senses and the emotional energy of the humans around him/her.

Not Enzo. The Art of Racing in the Rain makes it explicit very early on that Enzo is "not like other dogs." Enzo is a philosophizing dog who longs to be human. His understanding of the world has been shaped through the TV programs his owner Denny leaves on for him, including a documentary about Mongolia that suggested that after a dog dies it becomes a man.

Did I mention that Enzo likes to philosophize? This is what made the narration not work for me. I can suspend disbelief to allow for a dog to narrate a book, but Enzo's deep and specific philosophies and beliefs about life were just distracting. They would take me out of the novel, because I'd start wondering how much the dog narrator was just a stand-in for the author's own beliefs. Stein, like human main character Denny, is a racecar enthusiast from the Pacific Northwest, so it's clear is own experiences did make their way into this book. But basically, when it comes down to it, Enzo is just too human, and not dog enough.

And some of this human-like dog's ideas and opinions are just aggravating. A human being who goes around using the word "manifest" ("What you manifest is before you") makes me want to bang my head up against something; it's not less annoying when that character is a dog.

That being said, Enzo is also witty and intelligent, and, like most dogs, he is loving and faithfully devoted to his family.

That family is Denny, Denny's wife, Eve, and their daughter Zoe. When it comes down to it, The Art of Racing in the Rain is a family drama. The love that this family has for each other and the dog's central place in it are woven throughout the story, but the story itself is somewhat conventional and cliché. Terminal illness, evil/cowardly in-laws, false accusations, and a fierce custody battle are major elements that provide drama but never rise above the ordinary. And the unreliable narration that is employed in the courtroom scenes (which Enzo "reconstructs" from television crime dramas") again required too much suspension of belief for me.

I am curious how much the film changed from the novel in order to a achieve a PG rating. Even though they both contain some heavy themes, The Art of Racing in the Rain comes across as much more "adult" in the way its told than A Dog's Purpose. It might be the writing style or the word choice (Enzo, of course, has a more extensive vocabulary than many-a-human). It's rarely explicit, but there are a few sex scenes that are just....weird (and more graphic than the "wrestling" described by the dogs in A Dog's Purpose).

Of course, race car metaphors are predominant in this book. For car racing enthusiasts, this might be a plus, but for me they became strained after awhile.

But I did enjoy The Art of Racing in the Rain. As conventional as the plot was, it was a unique novel in many ways. Just not a masterpiece.

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Goodreads Book Review: Lucky Boy

Lucky Boy by Shanthi Sekaran
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I can't remember how I first heard about Shanthi Sekran's novel Lucky Boy, but when I added it to my reading list I had no idea it would prove to be as timely as it did. Lucky Boy is the story of two women and their love for one "lucky boy." It is also a story of undocumented immigration and a system that wrenches children from their parents. The novel is a compelling, beautifully written reminder of the human faces behind an issue that is hotly politicized but at its basis about human beings and human rights.

The story is told from alternating points of view of two women. Solimar "Soli" Castro Valdez is, at 18 years old, on the cusp of adulthood and living in a depressed, rural village outside of Oaxaca, Mexico. Soli longs for more than life in her village has to offer, so she decides to embark on a perilous journey to Berkley, California, where her cousin Sylvia already lives. When she shows up without documents at Sylvia's doorstep, she is pregnant with the son she will name Ignacio.

Solimar's journey to America inside and on the top of freight trains is filled with the terror and brutality that one might expect but also with moments of joy and excitement. (view spoiler)[She experiences young love with a fellow traveler named Checo but is also raped by multiple men. When Ignacio is born, she is relieved to see in him Checo's features. (hide spoiler)]. When she arrives in America, the details of her everyday life as a housekeeper and nanny are juxtaposed with the fear she lives in because of her undocumented status. Eventually she is placed in an immigrant detention center and Ignacio is placed into the care of Kavya Reddy and her husband, Rishi.

Kavya recently awakened to her desire to have a child, but when she struggles to conceive, she and Rishi explore fertility treatments, adoption, and, finally, much to the chagrin of Kavya's traditional Indian parents, fostering. As she and Rishi watch Ignacio grow from infancy to toddlerhood, they nurture hopes of being able to adopt him and suppress their knowledge that Ignacio's birth mother is alive and well and fighting to be reunited with her child.

Sekram treats all her major characters sympathetically. Both Soli and Kavya are clearly bound by love to Ignacio, who truly is a lucky boy to be placed in a loving, stable home rather than stuck in a "tender age shelter." Rishi plays somewhat of a lesser role, but he too comes to fully embrace fatherhood. Sekram draws upon her personal experience as an Indian American in depicting Kavya and Rishi, and she contrasts their experiences as the children of immigrants with those of Soli while showing how they are alike as well. She also draws upon her experiences as a resident of Berkely, depicting the hipsterish "Gourmet Ghetto" and nearby Silicon Valley. Rishi's job at "Weebies," an internet mega-provider of baby gear, wasn't as believable to me, though. He works as a ventilation engineer on Weebies' sprawling campus, and his job seems to be a metaphor for something to do with purity, babies, keeping babies safe...I wasn't exactly sure. I know Silicon Valley is a strange place, but unlike other details in the book, it just didn't ring true.

But that's a minor complaint. As well as being incredibly timely and humanizing, Lucky Boy is, aside from a few instances of purple prose, a beautifully written story. Evocative and moving, it is a must-read for the times we live in.

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Goodreads Book Review: So You've Been Publicly Shamed

So You've Been Publicly Shamed by Jon Ronson
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I wasn't really sure how to peg Jon Ronson's "So You've Been Publicly Shamed." It's not the sociological research-meets-self-help that Brene Brown is known for, despite covering similar territory to her research on shame. But then I read the endorsement on the back cover by Jon Stewart, where he refers to Ronson's work as "investigative satire," and yes, that seems to be the best way to characterize it. Despite the heavy subject matter, it started out funny and immensely readable, with one story flowing effortlessly into another. Somewhere in the middle, it started to lag for me. Still, I am giving it 4 stars, rounding up from 3.5, merely because it sheds light on a phenomenon that is so ubiquitous today.

Despite the title, this book deals with a very specific type of shame unique to the 21st century: internet shame. Beyond that, it focuses mostly on the shame delved out on one social media platform in particular: Twitter. That may seem a little narrow, but people who have immersed themselves deeply into Twitter have attested to it being especially toxic. I wish Ronson had explored this more...what is it about this specific platform, which is the common denominator in the stories he tells about people who have been recipients of public shame?

The stories Ronson tells are of people who have erred in some way, shape or form only to find themselves victim to a form of mob "justice" that goes as far as receiving death threats and calls for them to be fired. Their "crimes" run the gamut from telling crude or tasteless jokes to plagiarism. These individuals are not necessarily all blameless, but in all cases the backlash they receive is vastly disproportionate to their initial "crimes."

In between these stories, Ronson explores the history of public shaming (think 18th-century stocks) and the ways it is used (or rejected) in our contemporary justice system. He also explores research which might provide rational for this phenomenon, and in the process clarifies misconceptions about the Zimbardo research study taught in virtually every psychology program. Finally, he explores the psychological ramifications of shaming on the shamee. It is here that his book is most reminiscent of Brene Brown's work. Clearly shame, rather than being a motivator, can have devastating emotional effects on the recipient.

In the end, "So You've been Publicly Shamed" is inconclusive, and I felt it ended on a kind of pessimistic tone. The largest takeaway was that feedback loops are at work in people's online behavior: people are reinforced for having the "correct" opinions which keeps discourse narrow, with people afraid to voice dissent for fear of being shamed. I wanted more on this: people are afraid of stepping out of line, yes, but do people join in with the shamers so as to not align with the shamee and become shamed themselves?

I also was left with a feeling of "what do we do now" other than just step away from the internet or particularly toxic platforms. A common thread in the stories that Ronson tells is that people who take part in heaping cruelty on others were motivated by feeling that they were actually doing something good. In fact, a certain type of "callout culture" that easily turns into shaming has become prevalent in social justice circles online. Thankfully, there are people within activist circles who are "calling out" callout culture and offering alternatives for sociopolitical engagement minus the shame. Dropping a few links here:

https://www.theodysseyonline.com/call...
http://nique.net/opinions/2018/02/11/...
https://thebodyisnotanapology.com/mag...

So while I wanted a little more from Jon Ronson with this book, it is a very necessary one for today's society and a worthy read for those trying to navigate the online world with their sanity intact. And perhaps tread lightly on Twitter!




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Goodreads Book Review: Big Little Lies

Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Australian author Liane Moriarty's novel Big Little Lies is a hard book to peg, but that's what makes it refreshing. I went into it expecting a traditional "whodunit" plot, but while the story has a major whodunit element, it is essentially a story of secrets and lies and the far-reaching ramifications they can have on individuals, families and communities. All the while it deals with themes ranging from bullying and body images to domestic violence and verbal degradation while somehow never seeming too heavy.

As the novel opens, the reader learns that a parents' trivia night fundraiser event at an elementary school ended in bloodshed and death. In contrast to the typical thriller or murder mystery, however, Moriarty leaves a mystery not only "whodunit" but exactly what happened and who the victim(s) are. From there she flashes back to six months before the trivia night and begins to uncover the events that lead up to the tragedy.

The novel largely follows three main characters, each parents of a kindergartener at Pirriwwie Public School. Bold, passionate and fiery Madeline has a five-year-old daughter who is in the same kindergarten class as the daughter of her ex-husband and his new yogi wife. In additional, her teenage daughter seems to be choosing her ex-husband over her, a major point of tension for Madeline.

Madeline's closest friend in the school community is wealthy and beautiful Celeste, the mother of rambunctious twin boys. Celeste seems to lead a charmed life, but her picture perfect family is not what it seems. On orientation day the two women befriend Jane, a single mother who is new to the community, and quickly take her "under their wing." The three become increasingly close and the reader is taken deeper into the secrets of the families of Pirriwee Public School as the trivia day beckons.

Yeah, there's is definitely a lot going on in Big Little Lies. Somehow Moriarty makes all the individual elements of the story come together. Mostly. Storylines involving Madeline's tension with her teenage daughter at times seem tacked on, as does the relationship between Jane and the local barista she initially presumes to be gay. And some of the characters lives end up intersecting in ways that are a bit too neat to seem plausible. However, Moriarty weaves multiple storylines better than most authors I've read, and the three "leading ladies" and their friendship draw the reader in.

The reader is also introduced to several minor characters, including school parents and teachers and the detective investigating the "incident" at the trivia night. An interesting feature of Big Little Lies is the snippets of conversation at the end of each chapter where characters gossip and speculate about what happened to lead to the mayhem and catastrophe at the trivia night. The reader gets to know many characters through these snippets, and although many of these minor characters come across as caricatures rather than fully-fleshed characters, they are caricatures that Moriarty's largely female readership will relate too. For instance, there is Gabrielle, who is obsessed with dieting and with her weight. There are the "career moms" and the "stay at home moms" (and one stay at home dad). No, Big Little Lies is not "chic lit," in the shallow, pejorative sense in which the term is often used. It is a novel with a female-lead plot and themes that women will tend to relate to, but the story also has universal appeal.

Liane Moriarty has accomplished something ambitious with Big Little Lies. It is at once gripping, page turning, funny, complex and multi-layered.

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Goodreads Book Review - Girl in Translation

Girl in Translation by Jean Kwok
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

For me, the biggest problem with Jean Kwok's Girl in Translation is that the love story felt contrived and instead of adding to our understanding of protagonist Kimberly as a girl caught between two worlds, it just distracted from her larger story. Actually when I think of it, many of the characters in the book felt contrived rather than true-to-life, but because the love story took up much of the ending (including a major twist) it really stood out as out of place. Girl in Translation does contain some poignant insights into life as a first-generation immigrant grappling with poverty and ambition, but they were not as fully-realized as they could have been.

The entire novel spans almost two decades, if we count the last chapter set "twelve years later." When it opens, Kimberly is an 11-year-old who, along with her mother, has just arrived in Brooklyn from Hong Kong. (Her father passed away when she was very young). Kimberly's Aunt Peggy has helped the two family members make a life in America, but it turns out that this life includes a squalid, vermin-infested, heat-lacking apartment and a job in a Chinatown clothing factory (yes, this means child labor).

Because Kimberly had displayed exceptional academic talent in Hong Kong, she decides to use this talent to work to better her family. It is a long path up for a girl who speaks and understands little English and struggles to fit in socially and culturally at school. However, after a few years in public school, Kimberly's smarts land her a full scholarship to a prestigious private secondary school.

An early adversary in the novel turns out to Aunt Paula, who happens to be the owner of the factory. It turns out that Aunt Paula has been purposefully holding Kimberly and her Ma back (not helping them find a safer apartment, demanding more and more work without more pay) out of a jealous spite. The reasons for Paula's jealousy are briefly explored, but for the most part she comes across as a two-dimensional stock villain.

It is at the factory that Kimberly meets Matt, the love interest mentioned above. We see her feelings for Matt develop over her pre-teen years, but by the time the two actually get together (there is "another woman" named Vivian who seems to only exist for dramatic/romantic tension) their interactions seem to be reduced to infatuation. This would be understandable if it were just their teenage relationship that is described this way, but even 12 years after Kimberly makes a fateful decision impacting their future, the descriptions are still along the lines of "I stood outside his apartment because he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen").

This relationship could have been woven into the story in a more believable way and furthered the conflict between Kimberly's ambitions and her experiences of first love, but it just didn't resonate for me.

There is a lot of push between Kimberly's desire to fit in to with her classmates and her desire to be a dutiful daughter, but again the clichés of popular kids, parties and "fooling around" vs. studying got in the way. It was as if Kimberly were behaving the way a first-generation Chinese American teenager was "supposed" to behave rather than how a full-fleshed human being actually would.

The parts of the novel that worked the best were the ones that really allowed me to get inside the experiences of a young Chinese immigrant (the "girl in translation" of the title). When Kwok introduced Chinese turns of phrase or elements like family foods or celebrations like Chinese New Year, it made the novel a little more believable. There were some vivid descriptions of places (from the squalid apartment to Kimberly's first visit to Manhattan to her private school campus), but no grounding of the novel in time. I assumed it was set in the present-day, but there were no clues and it could really have been any time in the late 20th or early 21st century).

Girl in Translation was a quick and mostly enjoyable read, but the ending frustrated me and the entirety of the novel could have been more true-to-life. The ideas, fully realized with full-fleshed characters and more realistic relationships, could make for a truly moving novel, but as it is Girl in Translation is just so-so.



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Goodreads Book Review: We Were Liars

We Were Liars by E. Lockhart
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Wow. This is the first time in awhile that a book ending has genuinely shocked me.

We Were Liars is billed as a young adult suspense novel, but it goes beyond the typical young adult novel in theme and tone, and it cannot be pinned down to "suspense": it borrows from family drama, classic tragedies like "Wuthering Heights," and fairy tales in addition to more typical thrillers like "Gone Girl" (that twist ending!). There are some elements that to some might be considered pretentious, but I thought they made E. Lockhart's novel unique in a sea of cookie-cutter young adult lit.

At it's most basic, We Were Liars is the story of four wealthy teens who summer with their families on a private island off the coast of Massachusetts. Cadence, Johnny, and Mirren are cousins and the grandchildren of the distinguished Harris Sinclair, the owner of the island. Gat is a step-cousin, and his Indian heritage makes him the family outsider in the eyes of prejudiced patriarch Sinclair. Nevertheless, the four teens form an inseparable connection.

The novel is narrated from Cadence's perspective and shifted between the present, where Cadence is 17 years old, and flashbacks to her 15th summer on the island. Cadence suffers from migraines, which result, she has been told, from a swimming accident that happened that 15th summer. In addition to her migraines, she has lost most of her memories of the time surrounding that accident. She only knows that she was discovered injured on the beach.

Memory loss has been used in a lot of suspense novels (the central protagonist in The Girl on the Train suffered from alcoholic blackouts), and it can come across as a too-easy, gimmicky set-up. However, We Were Liars explores more than just the mystery behind Cadence's accident and her missing memories. As it unfolds, we are drawn into the hidden dysfunctions in Cadence's family, where the appearance of normalcy is exalted above all else.

The novel also revolves around the bonds of friendship between Cadence and her cousins, and her budding romance with Gat. I found the whole "step-cousin" angle to be a little icky, honestly, even though the two are not biologically related (Gat is Cadence's aunt's boyfriend's child). And I felt that instead of developing the connection between Cadence and Gat, Lockhart relied a bit too much on the forbidden-love with a family outsider angle. Indead, Gat references Emily Bronte's Wuthering Heights in describing Grandpa Sinclair's disdain for him. Nevertheless, this theme is timeless, and it is interesting to see a modern spin on it.

Lockhart also uses the symbolism of fairy tales to depict the Sinclair family. After her accident, Cadence begins to write these fairy stories, all variations on a king with three daughters. The parallels to her own family, where her grandfather has three daughters, are obvious, but each short story (no more than a few paragraphs) contributes to the reader's understanding of the Sinclair family and their secrets and lies.

I won't spoil the ending. Suffice it to say that here is where the novel departs from strict realism, and while I didn't find the ending 100% plausible, it makes up for that in its emotional impact and its shocking twist.

We Were Liars is a book that can't be put in a box. Readers expecting a typical young adult novel or a typical suspense novel may be disappointed, but those with an open mind will find a book they won't soon forget.


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Goodreads Book Review: Room

Room by Emma Donoghue
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I remember when the three young women held captive in a Cleveland house were discovered. The story was one of the most heinous things imaginable, and I couldn't begin to comprehend what it was like for the women. I do remember wondering about what it must have been like for the 6-year-old girl who was born into captivity to one of the women - what a bizarre way of growing up it must have been. Emma Donohue's novel Room explores this perspective. The story is narrated by 5-year-old Jack, who lives with his Ma in an 11-by-11 foot garden shed. Ma was kidnapped when she was 19-year-old college student; when the novel opens she has been imprisoned in "Room" for 7 years.

Room's disturbing subject matter is made bearable by Jack's innocence. There are shades of Life is Beautiful in the story, as Ma tries to shield and protect Jack by teaching him that Room all there is and that the images he sees on TV only exist on TV. She shuts him in a wardrobe every night before captor "Old Nick" visits, as she fills Jack's days with games, books and educational materials she asks for as "Sundaytreats." However, Ma can't maintain this life forever, and as the novel unfolds she finds herself growing more and more desperate.

Ma and Jack's heroic escape occurs midway through the novel, and the remainder focuses on the pair's struggles and triumphs in adjusting to life "Outside."

I admit it took me a little while to get into Room; initially Jack's voice just came across as stilted and unnatural sounding. But soon I was able to get lost in the Jack's unique perspective as a 5-year-old whose entire world encompasses a single room. And remarkably, details of Jack and Ma's daily rituals that would otherwise be mind-numbingly boring were made fascinating by this perspective.

The pacing actually slags a little in the second half of the novel, despite the interesting themes Donahue delves into as Jack struggles to adjust to his expanding world. But despite the limits of the narrative structure, both major and minor characters are as fully-fleshed and believable as Jack is. Although "Ma's" real name is never revealed, her fierce and devoted maternal love is only one aspect of her character. And Donohue explores how much the world Ma once knew changes during the seven years she is in captivity (her father, assuming she is dead, flees to Australia, and her mother finds a new partner whom Jack calls "Steppa").

As an outsider to the world and to society (he is described as being like a newborn), Jack has unique insights into behaviors and customs that people tend to take for granted. Observing how all the adults "Outside" are constantly stressed and complaining about a lack of time, he says that "I guess the time gets spread very thin like butter all over the world...so there's only a little spear of time on each place."

Room is not without flaws. Nonetheless, it is still one of the most haunting books I've read in awhile - at once harrowing, insightful, funny and heartwarming.


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Pixar Has Done It Again With Inside Out

Usually I leave the film reviews to Ken and stick to reviewing books, but I did want to post on Pixar's newest film, Inside Out. 

With my academic and personal interest in psychology (I double majored in it along with English in undergrad), I was really excited to see that Pixar would be making a film in which the main characters were personifications of the emotions inside a preteen girl's brain. Pixar has a reputation for making multilayer-ed films that appeal to adults as much as to children, but Inside Out took this beyond most of their previous films (beyond maybe Wall-E). Topics that I'm sure went beyond the heads of the many children in the audience included core memories, long-term memories, abstract reasoning, and dream production. Oh, and my favorite, a "train of thought" was portrayed as an actual train which the emotions Joy and Sadness hitch a ride on.

Joy and Sadness, along with Anger, Fear, and Disgust, live in the Headquarters of protagonist Riley's brain. With Joy in the lead, the team helps her make sense of the world, and things are going smoothly until Riley's parents uproot her happy home life in Minnesota with a move to San Francisco. From there, conflict ensues at Headquarters and Joy and Sadness find themselves lost.

It's all pretty existential stuff that only Pixar could pull off, making abstract emotions into believable characters. Joy, Sadness, Anger, Fear, and Disgust look and sound the way we imagine the feelings they represent would. Anger is squat and red; Sadness is blue with a voice like Eeyore. The relentlessly optimistic Joy looks and acts like a fairy/pixie. And the green Disgust, voiced by Mindy Kaling, is all sarcasm and snark.

Yes, the kids in the audience, of which there were many, enjoyed Inside Out too. It's colorful and whimsical and funny, and not really scary (besides a couple scenes with a huge clown, which is terrifying at any age). But the content is way deeper than that of the average kids' movie.

I really appreciated the underlying message of the film, which was refreshing in a society that can take "positive thinking" overboard to the point of dismissing or suppressing all "negative" thoughts or emotions. Initially Joy tries to prevent Sadness from touching Riley's core memories and "tainting" them. Over the course of the film, however, she and the audience see that Sadness actually has an important place in Riley's life (and all our lives). It is Sadness that allows Riley to feel and receive empathy, and it is Sadness that finally urges her to open up to her parents about missing Minnesota.

I would enjoy seeing where Pixar would go with a sequel.  After all, our emotions only get more complex as we age. Would they add more characters to capture nuanced emotions like confusion or impatience? Or would the main team of emotions work together to create these degrees and blends of feeling? Maybe emotions are like colors, with primary colors mixing together to create blends or giving off more or less saturation for various shades/hues. But I digress...

After a few lackluster films, Pixar is definitely back to doing what they do best: multi-layered movies that are deeper than they appear. Inside Out has something for pretty much everyone - kids, adults, people with an interest in psychology, anyone trying to navigate their emotions in a healthy way. Yeah, really, everyone. 

Goodreads Book Review: Dark Places

Dark Places by Gillian Flynn
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

While I think an author's books should be evaluated independently of each other, it's going to be hard for me to not compare Gillian Flynn's novel Dark Places to Gone Girl. While Dark Places was actually written first, Gone Girl achieved wider popularity including being adapted into a film first. Both books are set (at least partially) in Missouri, and both feature extremely twisted and dysfunctional characters as well as suspenseful plotting. Although I thought that not all elements of Dark Places fully came together (certain plot elements' connections were never explained as more than not-so-believable coincidence), it was still a sick and yet addicting read.

But be warned: Dark Places visits some truly "dark places." The content includes poverty, child neglect, general family dysfunction, alcoholism, drug use, homelessness, bankruptcy, stripping and prostitution, rumors of child molestation...oh, yeah, and devil worship. I didn't love that Flynn included the devil worship, but clearly she was trying to explore the darkest sides of humanity and the places that yearning for belonging and lust for power can take a person. Although the title "Dark Places" refers specifically to the regions of narrator Libby's mind she visits when she thinks about the murder of her family, virtually every character in this novel is well acquainted with dark places.

Libby Day is the sole survivor of a murder that took her mother and two sisters in 1985. A seven-year-old at the time, she testified that her 15-year-old brother Ben was the killer. Twenty-five years later she is contacted by a man from "The Kill Club," a secret society obsessed with crimes. They are convinced Ben is innocent and enlist Libby to help them free him. Libby, motivated by the promise of financial reward, agrees to help them, although it means revisiting her terrifying history.

Libby is not a likeable narrator - she is a moocher and a thief, hungry to profit off of her tragic story - but there is something refreshing about her character, which is far more believable than the angelic, heroic survivor that the public views her as. As for the "Kill Club," they are a disturbing yet fascinating sub-culture that I wish Flynn had explored further; this group of obsessed misfits is cast as freaks, but they seem to be reflective of a society that eats up true-crime stories, namely American society at large.

The novel is told in alternating points-of-view, switching between present-day Libby and her brother and mother, Patty, on the fateful day of the murders - January 2nd, 1985. The plot is tightly paced, with the events leading up to the murder spanning less than twenty-four hours. Flynn's use of multiple perspectives shows just how different people's understandings of the same situation can be; significant details are described multiple times through the eyes of characters with disparate knowledge.

As with Gone Girl, Gillian Flynn is a master of setting and tone here. The Kansas farm town where Libby grew up is not idyllic but bleak and foreboding, and the places Libby visits in her search for the truth are equally seedy. There is a sense of desperation in the lives of both the poor Day family in 1985 and present-day Libby.

As noted above, I definitely felt that there were plot areas that never came together, and the final twist of the novel just wasn't quite as shocking as that of Gone Girl. That being said, for all the darkness of Dark Places the book ends with a slight note of hope that wasn't present in that other novel.

Comparisons aside, Dark Places is a masterful book in and of itself. But it also shows the extent of the twisted brilliance in Gillian Flynn's imagination. I'll be reading her debut Sharp Objects next (going at her books in reverse-order), and I hope she'll keep writing.




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Goodreads Book Review: Still Alice

Still Alice by Lisa Genova
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

The subject matter of Still Alice hit a personal note for me: a family friend a couple years younger than my mother (so barely 60) has dementia. A few years ago she was bubbly and gregarious and would attend holiday dinners with her adopted son; today she lives in an assisted living facility with people two or three decades older than her. My "Aunt" J. is the first person close to me with dementia; before her I never knew firsthand the way Alzheimer's and other forms of dementia ravage a person's mind and spirit.

And so Still Alice was a powerful book for me, made even more so because it tells the story of a woman with early-onset Alzheimer's disease from her own perspective. When the novel begins, 50-year-old Alice is a cognitive psychology professor at Harvard with a husband and 3 grown children. She begins experience jarring lapses of memory like forgetting words, missing appointments and even a flight, and most disturbingly becoming lost 10 minutes from her home. While at first she chalks these changes up to menopause and/or stress, a doctor confirms that she is actually suffering from early-onset Alzheimer's disease.

As someone whose career and identity revolve around her intellect, Alice is especially devastated when the mind that long-defined her begins to disintegrate, but as she comes to terms with her illness she is able to realize that what makes her "her" is so much bigger than her mind.

The novel depicts the progression of Alice's disease over the course of two years; each chapter encompasses a month of her life. Thus, the reader witnesses the gradual breakdown of her mental facilities from minor memory lapses and occasions of disorientation to her inability to work, travel alone, or, often, to even recognize family members. The simplicity of the writing is a strength as the reader is able to grasp what it is like to be someone with diminishing memory and awareness. And while we witness Alice's fear and confusion, we also experience her courage and the love she still has for her family and her life. We see her re-evaluate, in a sense, what makes her life worth living.

It is obvious that Lisa Genova, who has written other fictional accounts of degenerative illnesses, has done sufficient research on Alzheimer's, but the book never comes across as clinical. It helps the reader understand what it is to live with dementia in the way that mere facts and statistics cannot.

Still Alice also conveys the conflicted emotions of Alice's husband and children as they learn of her diagnosis and then watch her illness progress. Initially, some of the characters come across as one-dimensional (especially Alice's two daughters), but as we see them cope with their mother's illness in realistic ways, they gain depth. And Alice's husband reacts in ways that are frustrating to witness but understandable and human (initially with denial, then making choices that seem to put his career ahead of his time with Alice).

It is an anguishing subject matter, but Still Alice manages to be, overall, a story of hope. It ends with one of its most moving scenes: Alice's actress daughter, Lydia, performs a skit for her. And while Alice is unable to understand the words of the script, Lydia's tone, facial expressions, and body language communicate emotion to her mother. That emotion?

Love.

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Goodreads Book Review: And the Mountains Echoed

And the Mountains Echoed by Khaled Hosseini
My rating: 3 of 5 stars

I loved Khaled Hossieni's debut novel, The Kite Runner. I liked his second novel, A Thousand Splendid Suns, even better, earning it a place on my list of favorite books. So I was a little disappointed with his third novel, And The Mountains Echoed.. Don't get me wrong, Hosseini is still an outstanding writer, with emotional resonance, memorable and relatable characters, and a strong sense of place. However, with this third book, he simply tries to do too much, bogging down the story with too many characters, uneven pacing, and too many shifts in time, place, and narration.

At it's basis, And the Mountains Echoed is the story of a love between siblings that withstands trails of time and separation, and as such, it is a moving story. It opens in 1952, when the siblings in question, Abdullah and Pari, are ten and three respectively, living in an impoverished Afghan village.

But from there, Hosseini expands the story by telling it from the perspectives of other characters in other times and places. These range from a relative of Abdullah and Pari's who lives for decades in Kabul to seemingly unconnected characters in present-day Greece and northern California. The reader does come to realize that these characters and their lives are in fact connected, but the shifting in time and place just add confusion. Yes, the characters are compelling, but as soon as I would become fully immersed in one story, Hosseini shifted to another. And the pacing was uneven, with certain events in characters' lives given too much time and others breezed over.

There are things in And The Mountains Echoed that Hosseini still does very well. All his settings come to life, not just his native Afghanistan but Greece, California, and Europe as well. And he is sensitive to the various social and political climates in which his story is set. It is when his characters straddle multiple worlds - as with characters who have immigrated from Afghanistan to Paris and California - that he is at his most compelling.

Finally, the love and loyalty Hosseini's characters have for each other here, and the moral complexity of their decisions, is moving. At its basis, And The Mountains Echoed is a heartwarming story. But it would have been even more moving if it had been simpler and sweeter.


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Law and Order and Williams Syndrome

I  somewhat recently became addicted to Law and Order (especially but not limited to SVU), but I am still catching up on never-seen re-runs. So I was exited to see the description of the 2007  Law and Order: SVU episode "Savant," in which a girl with Willams Syndrome is the only witness to her mother's beating. My cousin has Williams Syndrome, so I was curious to see how accurately the not-so-common disorder was represented and hoping that it wouldn't be overly sensationalized, as Law and Order is wont to do sometimes.

As expected, the episode was a pretty good mix of the reality-based and the sensationalized. Key to the plot is the witness (Katie Nicholson) identifying the assailant via voice thanks to her perfect pitch. This is an exaggeration, but people with Williams Syndrome tend to have musical gifts coexisting with mental retardation. In fact, my cousin attended a school, Berkshire Music Academy,  uniquely designed for students with Williams Sydrome.

Also spot-on was Katie's extremely social and friendly nature; while in some ways people with Williams Syndrome have trouble with the nuances of appropriate social behavior, they are usually extremely empathetic and able to read people's emotions. A scene in the first five minutes of the episode, where Katie attempts to give Detective Stabler a hug because he "seems upset," made me chuckle and think of my cousin.

Other details in the episode make it clear the the writers did their homework on Williams Syndrome: Katie has heart problems; she tells the detective that some people think she is an elf (because of their unique facial features, people with Williams Syndrome are often described as elf-like).

There were some awkward moments in the episode, like when Katie mimics an orgasm when recollecting to the court an encounter she overheard between her mother and her mother's lover. And  because I felt extremely protective of Katie, I wish the detectives and later the judge had been more patient and understanding of her Williams-typical behaviors like over-affection. But this is probably accurate to the way a lot of people react to the disorder. Overall, it was a positive and not altogether unrealistic portrayal, and I'm grateful for this type of media attention being given to this rare disorder. Hopefully more people who don't have someone in their life with Williams Syndrome know at least a little about it thanks to Law and Order.

Goodreads Book Review: Gone Girl

Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Gillian Flynn's Gone Girl is a #1 New York Times bestseller which has now been adapted into a film starring Ben Affleck. The novel's popularity should come as no surprise - after a few false starts, Flynn takes the reader on a twisted ride in which nothing and no one is as it seems.

The novel opens on the 5th wedding anniversary of Amy Elliott and Nick Dunne, who have recently moved to Missouri from New York City. The tone, rather than one of happy anticipation, is immediately ominous - and then we find out Amy has disappeared.

Nick insists he is innocent, but as detectives investigate and details unfold, his story and his nervous behavior begin to look more and more suspicious, and we witness the unraveling of what he tries to convince the public is a happy marriage. But Nick and Amy's is not just the ordinary marriage gone sour, but, as we learn, something much more sinister.

After the initial suspense (the girl is gone!), the early chapters of Gone Girl stalled a bit for me, seeming to get weighed down in insignificant details. But the mystery unfolded, things that seemed implausible, cheesy, or insignificant took on new significance. Take the Amazing Amy children's book series through which Amy's parents have amassed a fortune. The books, frankly, sound ridiculous - but through them, the Elliotts have created an idealized, fantasy version of their daughter. "Amazing Amy" is a girl and later young woman who always has the right answer, always does the right thing, and living in the shadow of her "amazing" counterpart serves as motivation for much of what "real" Amy does.

Through her use of unreliable narration, Flynn masterfully screws with the reader's head. The story is told alternately by Nick in real time and by Amy in a series of diary entries dated from 2005, when she first meets Nick, to shortly before her disappearance. Both Nick and Amy are prone to frequent omissions and outright lies, and soon the reader doesn't know whose story to believe.

Flynn manages to do many things with Gone Girl. The story is as much a psychological thriller as a classic whodunit story. It also serves as an interesting commentary on the media circus surrounding "unsolved mysteries" and crime stories, from the Ellen Abbot show (think Nancy Grace) to the sleazy defense attorney Nick hires to the ever-shifting public opinion and the paparazzi perpetually parked on Nick's lawn. It even delves into gender relations in both subtle and more overt ways - the most overt being Nick's misogynistic, Alzheimer's riddled father, prone to uncoherent rants against "bitches" who have wronged him. (Note: major spoilers in the link prior).

I've come across a lot of people who really did not like the ending of Gone Girl, which I won't spoil. I'll depart from popular opinion here. I can't say I "enjoyed" the novel's ending (or in some ways, lack of an ending). But in some ways it seemed perfectly fitting to the story that the ending would be as ominous, foreboding, and uncertain as the beginning. After all, Gone Girl is a story that sticks in your mind long after it is "finished."


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Goodreads Book Review: The Giver

The Giver by Lois Lowry
My rating: 5 of 5 stars

I figure that now that the film version of The Giver is almost out, it's time for me to write a review of the book. I'm going to try to keep this about just the book - if I see the movie I'm going to try to evaluate that on it's own standing even though I'm not entirely pleased with some of the choices they've apparently made with it. I'm also going to just review The Giver on its own as a novel, even though it's the first in a four-book series. I finally did get around to reading the other books in the series, and though they take things in an interesting direction and provide some closure that The Giver on its own lacks, in some ways I prefer The Giver as its own independent story.

I read this book when I was 13, and it is one of the books or maybe the book from childhood that has made the most lasting impression on me. It's just such a simply written, yet powerful story, written at a level suitable for middle schoolers but with themes much more mature than the average young adult novel.

In drawing the reader into protagonist Jonas' world, Lois Lowry shows that sometimes the simplest writing is the most evocative. Jonas is a twelve-year-old boy, and in some ways he seems like a typical preteen boy, but in the community he lives in, everything is perfect and orderly. There is no war, hardship, or poverty, and everyone knows their place. Their future is set out by the community leaders.

But as the novel opens prior to the ceremony where the "Twelves" will receive their vocational assignments, Jonas is feeling apprehensive. And when he receives the role of "The Receiver" to be trained under the wise, aged "Giver," his perfect world is turned upside down.

Jonas's role as the Receiver is to receive memories from "the time before." Every time he meets with the Giver, he receives a memory of something his community no longer has. These memories start out simple - pets, Christmas, sledding - and gradually become more poignant and emotional as Jonas experiences everything from familial love to loss, fear, and pain. As he continues with the Giver, Jonas begins to question all that he has accepted about his community and his life.

I think the reason The Giver works so well is that the reader experiences everything with Jonas. So when Jonas first begins to see flickers of color (yes, all color was stricken from the community in the name of sameness) we imagine what it would be like not to know the color red. From little details that we take for granted to powerful emotions, Lowry makes us question what we would really trade away in search of a "perfect" world.

Yes, some things about Jonas's community don't "make sense." I'm not entirely clear how they have removed color from the community, how memories are transmitted from the Giver to Jonas, etc. And then there are the pills that every community resident takes when they experience their first "stirrings" (sexual urges). I had thought these pills were strictly for controlling or suppressing their sexuality, but both The Giver and later books in the series suggest that they prevent people from forming deep attachments or emotions at all. So why are they not taken until puberty, to prevent children from bonding with the people who raise them but can't be really called "parents"?

However. I've never been one to need dystopian literature to be realistic, and in the case of The Giver adds to the sense of mystery. It is the same for the purposefully up-in-the-air ending. Later books in the series do provide closure as to what happens to Jonas and to Gabriel, the baby Jonas's father had been caring for. However, I almost prefer the way The Giver ends on a note of mystery and wonder.

5 stars for being one of the most powerful books of my childhood/adolescence.


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Goodreads Review: The Silver Linings Playbook

The Silver Linings Playbook by Matthew Quick
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

So Ken does movie reviews and I do the reviews of books-turned-to-movies...

I wanted to see the enormously popular film version of The Silver Linings Playbook starring Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence, but of course never got around to it. But as soon as I discovered it was a book before it was a film, I put the novel on my reading list. I still haven't gotten around to seeing the movie, but the book is every bit as sweet and quirky as the movie trailers seemed. With his debut novel, Matthew Quick has created what is at one part love story, one part compassionate take on mental illness, one part look at the passions of Philadelphia Eagles fans, and all parts addictively readable story about the silver linings that aren't the ones we are expecting.

The novel's main strength is its narration, as it gets inside the head of a mentally unstable but endearingly optimistic and goodhearted man. When The Silver Linings Playbook begins, narrator Pat Peoples has just returned to his parents' house in New Jersey upon his release from what he calls "the bad place," a Baltimore mental institution. In the film, Pat's diagnosis is bipolar disorder, but the novel does not give Pat a diagnosis. It is obvious, however, that he is quite out of touch with reality, to the point of having no sense of how long he spent in the institution. Despite this and his tendency to outbursts of violence upon hearing Kenny G music, Pat is determined to better himself, and the trip Quick gives the reader inside this character's psyche is compassionate and respectful, humorous and at times hilarious without being condescending.

As the novel's title suggests, Pat is devoted to a philosophy of silver linings and unfettered optimism. Headless of what everyone around him says, his one goal upon returning home is reunion with his estranged wife, Nikki. But then he meets Tiffany, a recently widowed woman with demons of her own, who is set on changing Pat's life in ways he hadn't anticipated.

In his effort to woo back English teacher Nikki, Pat begins reading classic literature, from The Great Gatsby to The Scarlet Letter to The Bell Jar, and his interpretation of these novels according to his silver linings philosophy is in my mind a brilliant way for Quick to establish Pat's worldview and his mental state.

While we don't receive the same opportunity to live inside the heads of the other characters, they are equally easy to root for, or at times to want to scream at. Tiffany is sullen and foul-mouthed and yet obviously sensitive and vulnerable as well. Pat's mom is patient, strong, and compassionate, while his dad is temperamental and distant and bases his moods and treatment of his loved ones upon how the Eagles are doing. I even developed a strong picture of Nikki in my head through Pat's detailed stories and descriptions. Some characters, like Pat's therapist Cliff, who also happens to be an Eagles fan and his "black friend" Danny, seem less well-rounded and believable, but they too are memorable.

Non-football fans may not be interested in the large number of scenes in the novel dealing with the Philadelphia Eagles, but this serves to ground the book in time and place and makes Pat's character (although maybe not his over-the-top father's) seem more believable. The Eagles, win or lose, play as much of a role in Pat's life outside the mental institution as Tiffany does and as Nikki did in his old life.

As the novel unfolds, Pat slowly comes to grips with what brought him to the mental institution and with the new reality of his. While his story does not have the happy ending he was expecting, reunion with Nikki, it nevertheless affirms love and silver linings. It is not the conventional happy-ending-fairy-tale type story, but that's what makes The Silver Linings Playbook so refreshing, believable, and true.

I would rank the novel 4.5 out of 5 stars, but since Goodreads doesn't allow for half-stars, 4 stars it is.

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Goodreads Book Review: Divergent

Divergent by Veronica Roth
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Susan Collins' enormously popular Hunger Games trilogy seems to have sparked the trend of dystopian teen novel-turned-film. I can't speak for the yet-to-be-released film version of Divergent, but Veronica Roth's novel Divergent, also the first in a trilogy, has many of the factors that made The Hunger Games so popular: a fascinating dystopian setting, a strong and courageous female protagonist, and both plenty of action (and, yes, violence) and internal turmoil.

Sixteen-year-old Beatrice lives in Chicago, where all of society is divided into 5 factions intent on cultivating a specific virtue. For the Erudite it's knowledge, for the Dauntless it is bravery, for Amity it is peacefulness, for Candor it is honesty, and for the faction in which Beatrice has grown up, Abnegation, it is selflessness. As the novel opens, Beatrice and her brother, Caleb, prepare to take a test that will help determine where they truly belong and which faction they should, after a formal initiation process, devote their life to. It is "faction over family," they are told.

But Beatrice's test results reveal something unusual: she is "divergent," and as such is considered dangerous.

Not fully understanding what her divergence means, Beatrice, who adopts the nickname Tris, decides to leave Abnegation for the Dauntless and begins a grueling initiation process in which she tests the limits of her courage, attempts to learn who to trust, and comes to realize that the society she lives in is not as perfect, or as safe, as she had though.

Divergent is written for teens, but its content makes it an engrossing read for adults as well. It may not be appropriate for younger teens, as the violence approaches Hunger Games levels. It is a quick, fast-paced read, but thematically heavier than most teen-oriented books. Roth's use of imagery makes the novel come alive for the reader; she incorporates real landmarks such as the Ferris Wheel into a crumbling, dystopian Chicago. While some of the habits of the various factions verge on stereotype (the Dauntless are all tattooed, and the Erudite wear glasses even if they don't have vision problems), these details also bring Tris' world to life.

As fast-paced as Divergent is, Roth manages to incorporate deeper themes along with the non-stop action. The novel will leave readers pondering everything from the nature of bravery to the pitfalls of cultivating certain virtues at the expense of others to the futility of trying to cultivate the "perfect" society.

The one thing I wasn't such a fan of was the budding romance between Tris and her Divergent leader, "Four." It wasn't as bad as Twilight's Bella and Edward, but Four never seems to be that...well...nice to Tris. Yes, it is largely under the guise of him being the "tough leader" trying to draw out Tris' courage, but even after he confesses his feelings for her, things like him grabbing her wrist to hold her back or calling her an idiot grated on me. Four is otherwise an admirable character in many ways, with a vision for what his faction and society could be, but his relationship with Tris bugged me. But that relationship is a relatively minor part of the book, so I can let it slide.

I'm curious to see how successfully Divergent will be adapted to the big screen. If you are interested in dystopian fiction, see the movie, but definitely read the book!

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Goodreads Book Review: The Storyteller

The Storyteller by Jodi Picoult
My rating: 4 of 5 stars

I had already written a short Goodreads review of Jodi Picoult's "The Storyteller." However, I'm going back and writing a longer review because I wanted to post it on my blog. So here goes...

I'm a fan of Jodi Picoult's work, and I've read most of her books. I love that she deals with complex, controversial, usually contemporary social and ethical issues from multiple, nuanced perspectives. There are many shades of gray (not those shades) in Picoult's exploration of issues. However, she does tend to be formulaic (virtually every novel has a "surprise" twist at the end) and a bit cheesy at times (read the obligatory romance between detective and client). So I wasn't sure what to think of her delving into the Holocaust with "The Storyteller." Fortunately, in the harrowing portions of the novel depicted from the point of a young woman deported to a Polish ghetto and then Auschwitz, she drops most of her usual tropes and her writing is at its absolute best.

Like most of Picoult's novels, "The Storyteller" is told from multiple perspectives. It opens in modern-day New Hampshire, where Sage Singer is a young culturally Jewish woman with scars both physical and emotional. Eschewing most social contact, she works nights as a baker. At a grief support group, she meets an elderly German man who tells her his name is Josef. Sensing that they each carry scars and remorse, Sage and Josef form an unlikely friendship. Then Josef confesses the unthinkable: he was a Nazi SS officer, and he wants Sage to help him end his life.

As the shocked Sage comes to terms with what Josef has told her and asked of her, she delves not only into issues of justice and forgiveness, good and evil, but also into her own past, family history, and personal identity.

Josef's revelation has personal significance to her because her grandmother, Minka, is a Holocaust survivor. Piccoult narrates several chapters from the young Minka's perspective, and her writing in these chapters is clear, sharp, and heartbreaking. Minka is a woman of incredible courage and resilience,and the reader naturally roots for her as her world is uprooted at the tender age of 18. Piccoult minces no words in describing the horrors Minka endured, but she shows how Minka's cleverness and her friendship with another young Jewish woman helped her maintain her humanity.

It's clear that Minka, a budding writer, is "the storyteller" of the title, and in some ways she is a more central character than even Sage. Strewn throughout the novel are bits of a fantasy story Minka writes about two brothers who are upiors, or Polish vampires. These bits of the novel are a bit confusing at first, as they are scattered throughout the book, but once the reader realizes what they are it is clear how they fit with the larger story. Yes, vampires have become cliche in our post-Twilight world, but Minka's vampire story seems to deal with themes, like whether evil is inevitable or can be turned into good, that Stefanie Myer tried less successfully to explore.

The chapters of "The Storyteller" that take place in the current age are slightly less effective, as Picoult resorts to some of her favorite formulas. A romance between Sage and Leo, the FBI detective she contacts to help her deal with Josef, is unrealistically paced, and much of Leo's dialogue and narration is heavy on the Velveeta. Some of the minor characters, like bakery owner Mary, are compelling, but some, like the bakery employee who only speaks in Haiku, are pointless, unbelievable stock characters that don't really serve any purpose. And Sage's character is not nearly thoroughly developed enough. While the reader knows that she has both minimal self-esteem and burdens of guilt and remorse, Picoult does not reveal why until more than halfway into the novel. As a result, Sage just comes across as whiny and self-interested for much of the novel. While Josef's revelations launch an inner transformation in Sage, this seems to happen far too quickly with the causes of Sage's anguish and inner turmoil not fully explored.

Of course, like all Picoult novels, "The Storyteller" ends with a twist, and it was a twist I did not see coming. Sometimes Picoult's twist endings seem forced, but this one leaves the reader with a lack of closure that is integral to the story. Parts of "The Storyteller" may be difficult to read, but it is a book that will leave you thinking long after you put it down.



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Thoughts on Baz Luhrmann's Adaptation of The Great Gatsby

I'm not calling this a review, because there's other people, like Ken, who do those better than me, but I just wanted to offer my own however-many cents on Baz Luhrmann's adaptation of F. Scott Fitzgerald's classic novel The Great Gatsby. I loved the book when I had to read it in high school (yeah, I'm a nerd), and I was interested in seeing how Luhrmann would bring it to the big screen. Being familiar with Luhrmann's other work,  I had some idea of what to expect. I've heard him critiqued as being "style over substance," but Luhrmann's style imo works for much of the material he's worked with (simple, classic tales like his 1996 Romeo + Juliet and Moulin Rouge, which I loved).

In the case of The Great Gatsby, however, many of Luhrmann's characteristic stylistic touches- abrupt camera transitions, musical numbers, cultural anachronism - fall flat, distracting the viewer from the storyline rather than pulling him or her into the characters' world. Add filming the subject matter in 3D and it's all becomes a bit of an overload.


Luhrmann actually stays very close to the plot-line of Fitzgerald's novel. For those who are unfamiliar, it centers around the mysterious, newly wealthy Jay Gatsby (Leonardo Di Caprio, Romeo + Juliet), who moves to Long Island to be close to lost love Daisy Buchanan (Carey Mulligan, Pride & Prejudice). Gatsby throws lavish parties hoping to catch Daisy's attention, but it is through his next-door neighbor Nick Carraway (Tobey McGuire, Spiderman) that he manages to re-enter her world. However, he soon earns the suspicions of Daisy's infuriated husband, Tom (Joel Edgerton, King Arthur). Tragedy ultimately ensues, and...well, I won't spoil anything, but the great Jay Gatsby is unable to realize his dreams of either Daisy or the life she represents to him.

I understand taking a highly visual approach to The Great Gatsby, a novel heavy on both symbolism and vivid depiction of an opulent, glitzy lifestyle. And I don't think all of Luhrmann's stylistic choices failed. Some of the shots, from the New York skyline to the green light by which Gatsby would watch Daisy's house across the bay, were absolutely gorgeous, as were the costumes. However, many of the early scenes felt disjointed. I thought the film worked better in the second half, when most of the party scenes were over and it finally began to delve into character and plot development.

All of the actors gave strong performances, but British actress Carey Mulligan especially was able to capture both Daisy's superficial charm and her underlying sadness. Tobey McGuire as narrator Nick Carraway was often reminiscent of Ewan McGregor in Moulin Rouge.

Much has been made of the film's anachronistic soundtrack featuring Jay-Z.  The soundtrack actually shifted between period-appropriate jazz and modern songs from a variety of genres, with hip-hop heavy dance sequences at Gatsby's parties. At one point I caught U2's "Love is Blindness." I love this song, and it actually fit the scene, but that will give you an idea of how all-over-the-place this film's music is.

I actually understand the Jay-Z choice in an odd way. There are a lot of cultural similarities between the Jazz Age and the "bling" and ostentation of modern hip-hop, and Luhrmann is a fan of putting a modern pop-cultural twist on historical tales. However...yeah, the Jay-Z didn't really do it for me.

I did actually enjoy this movie overall. Understandably, though, Baz Luhrmann is not everyone's cup of tea, and Fitzgerald's novel may have been better served with less "style" and more "substance." For those who want a more straightforward film rendition, there's always the 1974 version featuring Robert Redford as Gatsby.

Not rating it 'cause that's not what I do. But there's my take. 

Nobody Makes Good Music Anymore?

Every now and then I hear this claim, and I have often agreed with it. Today's popular music just doesn't compare to that of previous decades. I mean the 1960s had the Beatles; today we have...Justin Beiber. I enjoy all types of music (yes, including boy bands) and hate music snobbery, but it seemed hard to deny that the music industry has gone downhill and become more about image and less about innovation.

But now that I think of it, I wouldn't say that's entirely true. I mean, last year American Idol, a show arguably about manufacturing and spitting out pop stars, crowned Phillip Phillips, a folksy singer-songwriter type with an unconventional voice reminiscent of Dave Matthew, over runner-up Jessica Sanchez, who had an amazing voice but offered nothing musically unique.

And looking at some of my own current favorite artists and bands...yes, people are still creating good, clever, innovative music. And it's even making the pop charts.

This is of course just my own two cents, but here's what I would argue to be proof:

1)  Fun. 

Since 2011's "We Are Young," every single Fun. has released has been high on the pop charts, almost to the point of overplay. There's good reason, though. Fun's songs are just plain fun (see what I did there...) and catchy, but they don't sound like everything else out there. I like "We Are Young"  and their current hit "Carry On" (which has a very Irish feel), but I think "Some Nights" would have to be my favorite; it's imo their most multi-layered and complex song both musically and lyrically.

2) Mumford and Sons 

Mumford and Sons may have actually succeeded in making banjo music cool. And even if they don't get people to explore their bluegrass and folk influences, they've at least broadened rock music.

3) The Lumineers 

The Lumineers are another band bringing a folksy style to the pop charts. Their 2011 single "Ho Hey" has reached #2 on  the US Top 40 charts and has been featured in commercials for the DVD of the film Silver Linings Playbook. Its a good song, but I absolutely love "Stubborn Love," especially the string sections.

4) Gotye

The ubiquitous "Somebody That I Used to Know" made Belgian-Austrian singer-songwriter Gotye famous, but having seen him live, I have to say he's far more than just a one-hit wonder. Gotye's entire catalog is artsy and innovative in its use of instrumentation.

And here's a music video for a song you probably have not heard before. Both the video and song are very typical of Gotye's style.

  
So there you have it. Pop music still contains true artistry, even if it is harder to find.

American Idol Auditions

I've been watching American Idol for 12 seasons now (yeesh), and every year when I watch the auditions there are contestants that I really like but then forget all about after Hollywood week. So this year I decided I would keep track of them here. I missed the first day of auditions, but here are my favorites from the rest:

From the Chicago auditions:

Mariah Pulice, who described her journey as a recovering anorexic. Yes, it was a typical Idol "sob story," but an emotionally compelling one that I'm sure many in the audience related to. I was really excited that she chose to sing my favorite Beatles' song, Let It Be, which I always find so powerful and moving. As the get judges noted, the strength of her performance was the emotion that came through in her delivery.

Isabell Parell, just 15 years old. When she asked Keith Urban to sing a duet with her, I was a little annoyed, but she was singing Baby It's Cold Outside, and it is a duet. She was actually cute and charming, and what's more, she could sing. Her soulful voice was well-suited to the song and different than that of every other pop-star wannabe out there.

Kiara Lanier. When she said she sang for an Obama fundraiser, I thought she's gotta be good, and she was, managing to pull off Celine Dion's The Prayer with beautiful tone and control. The only thing that annoyed me was how she stuck a billion runs in practically every line, but that seems typical of a lot of today's singers. I can definitely see her in the top 12.

Clifton Duffin, who, according to his story, had never sung in front of anyone before, not even his parents. Well, his parents were in the audience for his audition, when he proved to them and to the world that he can indeed sing. Yeah, I'm a sucker, but it was moving watching his mother's reaction to hearing him for the first time.

Lazaro Arbos, who revealed a severe stutter when he spoke but smoothly delivered a beautiful rendition of the Simon & Garfunkel classic Bridge Over Troubled Water.

From the Charlotte auditions:

Twenty-seven year-old Brian Rittenberg, who also sang Let It Be. Is that gonna be the song of the auditions this season? His rendition was a lot different than Mariah Pulice's, with more soul and rasp. I think I preferred Pulice's version actually, but he wasn't bad.

High school student Isabel Gonzalez, who was nominated by her aunt. She sang a Sam Cooke song, and if I hadn't known, I would not have thought this girl was only 16.

Taisha Bethea,a young black rocker chick who sings in a band. Yes, "black girls can rock," as Randy said. The judges were torn on her but Keith Urban cast the deciding vote and sent her to Hollywood. It could be interesting to see how far she goes in the competition.

Formerly homeless Rodney Barber, who sang Edwin McCain's I'll Be with soul and a lot of dynamic range. 

Seretha Guinn, who came to the auditions with her (adorable) 3-year-old daughter. I have to say I was a little disturbed when she revealed that her little girl (key word "little") "idolizes" Nicki Minaj. But Seritha was at the auditions to surprise her boyfriend, who had recently been in a serious accident. She sang a jazzy, non-rap version of the Fresh Prince of Bel Air theme song, in addition to a bit of Lee Ann Rhymes' How Do I Live. The former was probably the most unique song choice of the night, but it was the latter  that really showed off the beauty of her voice.

From the Baton Rouge auditions:


Charlie Askew, who described himself as having "always been socially awkward," but said music was his outlet. Socially awkward or not, this kid (17-years-old) was endearing. He sang Breakthrough, a Queen song that I do not actually know, and then Nature Boy, which I do know thanks to the Moulin Rouge soundtrack. I'm totally rooting for him.

Maddie Assell, nominated by her grandmother. Another one of those old-fashioned/soulful voices. She sang a Beatles song (that I was once again unfamiliar with; I need to expand my music horizons), but her voice reminds me of Adele's in some ways. Oh, wait..she just said she was influenced by Adele and Keith replied that he doesn't think she sounds like her or like any other artist. Whatever. I still hear the Adele, and that's not a bad thing.

Paul Jolley, who sang a Rascall Flats song. He was cute, had a really strong voice, and sounded like could do well in a variety of genres beyond just country. Oh, and he was cute ;).


Dustin Watts, a fireman and another country singer who I, like Nicki Minaj, can already see as a star in the genre.

Bernell Taylor,who lived through Hurrican Katrina. He sang a song from The Color Purple and seemed to have an extremely versatile voice: I can hear him doing old-school R & B, gospel, musical theater...