Entertainingly, Semi-Frustratingly … Adverbs Sunday, Sep 30 2007 

Bay Area and Novels RC 4:21 pm

I am rooting for Daniel Handler because: (1) he lives in San Francisco, (2) I adore the name Lemony Snicket, and (3) I have read hilarious little snippets from/interviews with him in the Media.

This is a book for grown-ups, unlike the famous Series of Unfortunate Events. And I am somewhat reluctant to call it a novel because for me it never really coalesced into a coherent whole — it was more like a series of short stories about people with the same names. The theme, also, was something cheesy like: That’s How Love Is. Now, Mr. Handler/Snicket, I am sure that the author of last month’s hilarious piece in Ready Made — an article about redecorating one’s fridge that made me laugh out loud — could come up with something better or more interesting than that. Or am I just totally insensitive and unromantic, as usual?

This was too uneven to be an especially good book. Parts of of it, however, are very good and most of it is fun, which all in all is more important than consistency or coherence in my book. I hope Mr. Handler/Snicket keeps cranking out the books because I am sure one of them will be excellent. I have now resolved to read the Lemony Snicket books.

 

Breaking News! Frustrated men live vicariously through James Bond. Saturday, Sep 22 2007 

New Journalism and Pop sociology RC 9:56 pm

I adore old James Bond movies, I think for simple reasons like the set design and pretty clothes and cars and how it is sort of relaxing because you know he will always do exactly the right thing for the context and he will never embarrass either one of you. And there are no heartwarming moments, which is also kind of relaxing.

The British have much more complicated reasons for loving James Bond, reasons having to do with the End of Empire and social anxiety. This is not surprising, but Mr. Winder’s synopsis here is very thorough, often funny, and the author’s devotion to James Bonds’ social, artistic, and political importance is rather touching.

I have read a couple of the Bond books, but according to Winder not the good ones. He adores “From Russia with Love,” which I have never read. He despises “The Spy Who Loved Me,” a “shameful disaster which [Fleming] himself later disowned,” which I sort of enjoyed. (I must admit, however, that Winder’s criticisms of it — small-time gangster villains are unworthy of Bond, weird that it’s written from the point of view of the Bond girl, sex scenes convey this creepy sense of Fleming making sweet love to his cooler alter ego — are all true.) He likes “Dr. No” and “Goldfinger,” and has this theory that the books were actually Important because they helped England keep her chin up through the loss of her colonial imperialism and other indignities.

Anyway, reading this book was entertaining and made me want to watch some more James Bond movies, even the ones which are apparently beneath notice. And isn’t the cover awesome? I love early James Bond-era Connery.

 

One City, One Boring Book Monday, Sep 3 2007 

Novels RC 7:47 pm

As I mentioned, I love the idea of the One City, One Book program, even though I am sure it will lead to lots of strange conversations with my fellow crackpots on Muni who are reading the same book. (This can’t be worse than what happens when you read any Pynchon book on Muni — strange old men coming up to you and mumbling about crocodiles in the sewers and postal service through dumpsters etc. etc.) I mainly read this book on Caltrain, so there was not much community bonding.

Unfortunately, this is classic New Yorker/MFA literature: well-researched and well-written, but without any underlying sense of fun or of having anything to say.

For example, when I read my chick lit earlier this week, I think I understand Mr. Maupin’s motive in writing it: he loves his characters, he loves San Francisco, he wants to depict a social group — gay culture & the sort of extended, bohemian urban family — that is not well represented in mainstream lit. Similarly, to use the example of a more serious book that I loved, “The Known World” seems like it has a similar motive: he loves his characters, he loves the South, he wants to depict a social phenomen — slavery — in a more nuanced way than it has been represented in the past.

Allegra Goodman, however, does not seem to care that much about her characters or their social context (science/research/academia). Instead, it is like she thought, “Hmm, I haven’t seen one of those trite New Yorker stories about the shifting nature of truth in a long time. Also, I would really like to impress my peers by learning everything there is to know about doing scientific experiments on mice.”

And to that I say: eh. I hope next month’s selection is better.

 

Thai Prisons, Naval Defections, Nipple-Ringed Aristocracy, and Mr. Darcy Sunday, Sep 2 2007 

Bay Area and Novels and Serial novels RC 7:41 pm

Last Sunday, I was sick and in bed with two scions of chick lit, Armistead Maupin and Helen Fielding. Good times.

First, Maupin’s “Babycakes.” (Am trying to get up to date so I can read his latest in the series, which for some reason is neither available in my local library nor from my estranged friends at booksfree.com.) He is in his usual fine form in this book. It is the 1980s now, so Mary Ann is into aerobics and everyone in England has that awful Princess Diana haircut. I love the subplot with the errant British navyman and his secret carny/midget bloodline; the whole Michael/Mona/Lord whatsisname plot is hilarious; and all the bad local television in the book made me miss the days when I had access to the hilarity of the newscast on KRON 4. (Are they even still around? I fear they are not because I can never find it when I’m watching TV at the gym.) Good stuff — I highly recommend it.

Having whetted my appetite for light, entertaining fare, I moved on to “Bridget Jones: The Edge of Reason,” which for those not in the know is the sequel to “Bridget Jones.” The book is a little embarrassing in those rare moments when it takes itself too seriously, but much of it was funny enough that I was laughing aloud on the train. (B at pompous dinner party full of lawyers: “The point is that you are supposed to vote for the principle of the thing, not the itsy bitsy detail about this percent and that percent. And it is perfectly obvious that Labour stands for the principle of sharing, kindness, gays, single mothers, and Nelson Mandela as opposed to braying bossy men having affairs with everyone shag-shag-shag left, right, and center and going to the Ritz in Paris and then telling all the presenters off on the Today program.”)

I found it so poignant how B.’s relationship is nearly spoiled by her application of the knowledge gleaned from self-help books to which she is addicted; I myself reach the brink of divorce nearly every day because certain people in my life do not appreciate the wisdom that I glean about relationships from the ladies’ magazines I can’t stop reading. You know, What Men Want and so forth. Apparently, what they want is for us to stop quizzing them with questions about their commitment level from the popular media, but that is impossible because it is so fun to do that. Anyway, Bridget at least prevails in the end.