Harlem. Frogs.

Whatever it Takes by Paul Tough.
This is the story of a man who wanted to overhaul the school system and community in Harlem, his name is Geoffrey Canada. And like Salt 'N Peppa said and said it best, WHAT A MAN.

It's a very emotionally charged, frustrating, inspiring story, very much worth reading, and will make you want to hug a teacher or Geoffrey Canada himself. It's stories like these that let you know that there are really people out there who care. A lot.

And mostly what they've figured out is that
1. Parents matter, early experiences matter (are you listening, Judith Rich Harris?)

2. Doing a good job in anything takes hard, dedicated work.

3. (this is *my* take, not something that the book preaches) Teachers never get the credit, thanks, or pay they deserve. So many teachers out there go to the mat for our kids time and time again; please, PLEASE give them the respect and gratitude they deserve. Next to parents, they have the most important jobs in the world.

4. Pediatrician/developmental specialist T. Berry Brazelton still knows what he's talking about. LISTEN TO THIS GUY, READ HIS BOOKS, DO WHAT HE SAYS.

5. If you need any sort of push to think/read outside the box, read this book; it will very much make you appreciate what you have. That about says it all.



and on the lighter side: GUESS WHAT I STARTED LAST WEEK? (cue opening music)

For the Love of Billy. . .

HICKS, that is.

Let's all take the time to appreciate the one, the only, BILLY HICKS (played by the infinitely less talented Rob Lowe) from St. Elmo's Fire.

The Mullet! The Sax! "Let's Rock" in conversational tone!

If you were a tween in the 80s, chances are you had the hots for this guy, like me. My cousin Heidi had a poster in her bedroom of all the St. Elmo's guys, which I coveted for years. . . My mother would not allow me to see this film in the theater, goodness knows why.

This may just be the cheesiest character in the cheesiest film in the cheesiest decade of all time, but I love you, Billy Hicks.
(watch for In Love of Betty (Childs), soon to follow.)

Escaping the Nazis. Head in an oven. Writing.

Quickly, the Favre conference is minutes away. . . 

1. Man's Search for Meaning by Viktor Frankl. Very impressive. "He who knows the 'why' for his existence will be able to bear almost any 'how.'" I think I am developing a case of literary/film ADHD lately. For instance, I started watching three movies this week, and abandoned them all halfway through because sleeping seemed more appealing. In this book, I was extremely interested in his personal account of what the concentration camps were like, what his experiences were, how he felt about them, etc., but during the second half, the LOGOTHERAPY half, I got restless. It was fine, and very interesting, but I just felt like the fireworks were over after the first part, if you get me. It's very much worth reading, however, I think all American citizens of this Doctor Phil generation should, actually.

My old life science teacher in high school once said something that I've never forgotten, it was about another student, a girl named Debbie Locy. I don't know the extent of all of her health problems and operations, but I know that they all were serious. Mr. Wogen once said that Debbie was the smiliest person he had ever met, and if she could smile through all her body's health problems, well, then he could probably smile too. I hadn't ever thought of something like that; maybe some people are just happy. I think this book is important in that it explains that through *the worst* sort of situation, a human being can emerge still able to see beauty and happiness (and meaning) in the world. Put simply: many of our problems are ridiculous/quit complaining/be thankful/life is precious.

2. The Bell Jar by Sylvia Plath. Again this issue with distancing myself from the writer as a character but not the writer as an author. I thought it was brilliantly written, it drew me in immediately from page one. The literary devices were off the frickin' hook; it was like one, beautiful, horrible, amazingly written poem the whole way through. And I think I've explained how I'm not a poem or metaphor person. . .

Anyway. As a writer I think she was obviously wonderful. As a human being (and later a mother), I have serious issues with her. Those poor kids. (I'll leave it at that).

No, I won't.

God dammit. I walked away from this for seven hours, and now I'm back, unable to just let it lie. This may sound harsh, immature, and reactionary, maybe even a bit on-my-high-horse, but when I read about her repeated suicide attempts and then the last, effective one, I had to wonder, WHY WOULD YOU EVER LET YOURSELF GET PREGNANT? What in the name of God and The Universe made you think that would be a good idea? Her kids were babies; I just want to cry, although they're I'm sure over it and have moved on.

3. On Writing by Stephen King. Favorite. Book. Ever. Is that good enough? It just makes me giddy and excited and happy. I'm so glad he wrote it. I want to ask him a million things about writing, about his stories, and about his early career, this book seemed to take each question I had and then not only answer  but expound on a million other questions that went along with the first set. I love many, many writers for hundreds of different reasons, like Sylvia up there? Loved her book. I do not get her, as a person, not even a little.

King? I get. I always have.

I AM LEGEND.

1. I liked that dog, Samantha. In a world with no humans, that dog was a great companion, (this from a non-dog person). I cried a little when he had to, you know, kill her.

2. Despite not liking the ending at all, this is one of my favorite films. The director, Francis Lawrence, did BRITNEY SPEARS VIDEOS before this? Wow. The pacing, the effects, the flashbacks, the dialogue? All aces. Nice work.

3. This sort of story is seriously one of the greatest joys in my narrative life. Isolation? Memories? MANNEQUINS STRATEGICALLY PLACED ABOUT THE CITY? (my favorite!)

I have always strongly identified with protagonists like these, most of them men. I think my Daddy issues have contributed to my constant seeking of powerful characters and my disdain of weak, sappy female leads. I mean, I grew up wanting to be Betty Childs (cheerleader from Revenge of the Nerds) like many others, I suppose, but there was always something more appealing about the powerful guys, the strong guys, the guys that actually DID something. Will Smith very much DOES SOMETHING in this and I was mesmerized.

4. Speaking of Will Smith, WOW! (delicious!) I have always thought he was a decent enough actor, but something different was going on here. Is he getting a little gray? It very much works for him. And the pull ups in the doorway? What a body on this guy! He was doing a one man show for a lot of this film, and he nailed it, extremely. Conversing with the mannequins? Genius. ("Please say 'hello' to me. Please say 'hello' to me!" or "BOB? WHAT THE HELL YOU DOING OUT HERE? ARE YOU REAL?" etc.)

5. Film vs. Book? I really hate to say this, but I thought the film was better. I loved Richard Matheson's story, which was riddled with Vampires, not rabid, cohabitating Zombies, but the film somehow resonated more with me. For one thing, using mannequins always earns an A+. Also, that opening scene where he's hunting deer in the mustang in downtown Manhattan? Very, very cool. And while I kept waiting for Will Smith to actually say the words, "I am Legend," I'm okay with just being shown it rather than having it stated outright (the book ends with this final declaration by Robert Neville as he's about to die, which is almost the coolest fucking thing I've ever read.) That said, the book's ending was much more satisfying. Regardless, I'll say both are legendary (hee hee).

6. My new goal? To make that treadmill downstairs my bitch the way Smith (and his dog) made theirs.
And to always have extra bacon, just in case.

Gerald's Game

So once I decided to axe The Host I needed to choose another book for my August book stack, of course. And in terms of sheer numbers, the most popular author on my shelf upstairs was King, of course.

Gerald's Game. Have you read this? Cuz DAMN. Somehow I missed this when I was in high school, which is probably a good thing. It scared me in all kinds of creepy, angering, inappropriate ways. This post was initially born in my head as one that would address rape and incest in film and literature, but then I decided that such a post would be a real boner-kill, no bad taste or pun intended. I like to keep things light on the old Television Lady, so I'll just say this: the stuff with the Dad rubbing one off on his ten year old very nearly earned this book the same fate as The Host, but I kept on with it. I understand that there are molesters out there who are in all other ways upstanding citizens, but it's a subject that I don't have a lot of patience for, much like male-directed films that have insensitive rape scenes or the entire film Happiness. It's almost like giving birth, it's not something just anyone can write about or make a film about. You have to be very careful and respectful at the same time. Don't treat it casually (King didn't, but it was still very, very disturbing).

So, really, Jessie's being chained to the bed in handcuffs really seemed secondary to me with all that other business going on in her head. . . I think the book was done well, but by the end of it, I was very unenthusiastic about virtually everything else, the flesh-eating dog, Mr. Death and his bone bag, dying of thirst, etc. The little surprise bit at the end that exposed Mr. Death as some sort of twisted Jeffrey Daumer seriously threw me for a loop, I thought having him be Mr. Death was almost better. Jessie carving up her hand with the water glass was tense, the voices inside her head (Punkin, Goodwife, her college friend Ruth) guiding her were nice touches, but all in all, (sorry, Steve, you know I love you), my skirt ain't blown up, and I suppose that happens. . .

I read another blog that listed this as one of King's most scary, which, meh, but what struck me was that they also suggested that this was one that would never make it to the big screen.

Hmmm. . . .

The Green Zone.

It's official: Matt Damon is the new Jack Bauer.
I very much enjoy this.

Good film. Not very uplifting, of course, but hey, how much entertainment can you get from a movie about a war that was based on a lie. . . ?

Great chase scenes. HOOAH!
(directed by Paul Greengrass).










Green Zone

From The Heath Arsenal: Tim O'Brien

"The Man I Killed" and "The Lives of the Dead" by Tim O'Brien.
also by O'Brien: Going After Cacciato, The Things They Carried, Tomcat in Love


This guy is one of my favorite authors. After first reading these two short stories, I bolted quickly to Half-Price in search of anything else--I got a scribbled up copy of The Things They Carried and maybe one or two others. Amazing, just wonderfully amazing. Not many women probably read O'Brien, which is a shame, because he is a beautifully sensitive writer, whether he's writing about Viet Nam or his childhood.

There are not many veterans who are able to tell their stories like this; Tim does a great job of showing us what it's really been like for them, what goes on in a soldier's head.

Read O'Brien, hug a veteran.