Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Hard Evidence, by John Lescroat
Another one where one book is much like the last, but the characters are interesting, the situations intriguing, and the legal drama compelling. Another fun series for escaping everyday life.
Hundred-Dollar Baby, by Robert Parker
Same good stuff. Nothing new with Spenser. He does his thing, and I enjoy it.
Charlotte's Web, by E. B. White
Another re-read from childhood, and this one holds up remarkably well. A good, simple story with vivid characters, a challenging vocabulary (with excellent, non-dumbed-down explanations). Fun.
Election, by Tom Perrotta
So interesting to read this. It's been a while since I saw the movie...I'll have to see it again soon while the book is fresh. Here he writes in alternating first-person voices, giving us multiple perspectives on the story, something I often find is gimmicky, but in Perrotta's hands, is a wonderful tool. Again, his characters are complex, and no moral judgment anywhere.
Joe College, by Tom Perrotta
Interesting to read all the Tom Perrottas at once. It seems really clear to me that he does what writers should do...write what they know. As a result, the novels all taken together seem almost like a memoir of one guy's life. That is, of course, a vast oversimplification, but there you have it.
I really like his writing. Vivid characters (stronger men than women, but his women are good, too), engaging stories, and he manages to leave conclusions and judgment up to the reader. His characters are all good and bad and ugly and human.
I really like his writing. Vivid characters (stronger men than women, but his women are good, too), engaging stories, and he manages to leave conclusions and judgment up to the reader. His characters are all good and bad and ugly and human.
Ages and ages....
...since I posted last. Things have been pleasantly busy. Here are the highlights of the last few weeks, books to come in later posts:
1. Quit my one day at the chiropractor's. Very sad to miss my ladies there, but a huge weight off my shoulders.
2. Project .22 is over. Good fun had by all. Began by the end to recognize the weaknesses in the players I had mythologized a little. Interesting.
3. Storysets class continues. I am in my late-rehearsal panic that the show will suck. Hopeful that this is my own shit, and not a reflection of actual fact.
4. Working to balance the healthy living thing, as always. Turning up on the healthier side most of the time.
AND!!!!
5. Chris is doing 10 episodes of Passions! My husband, the soap star. His first day of shooting is tomorrow. He's charmingly nervous, and I know he will do a bang-up job.
1. Quit my one day at the chiropractor's. Very sad to miss my ladies there, but a huge weight off my shoulders.
2. Project .22 is over. Good fun had by all. Began by the end to recognize the weaknesses in the players I had mythologized a little. Interesting.
3. Storysets class continues. I am in my late-rehearsal panic that the show will suck. Hopeful that this is my own shit, and not a reflection of actual fact.
4. Working to balance the healthy living thing, as always. Turning up on the healthier side most of the time.
AND!!!!
5. Chris is doing 10 episodes of Passions! My husband, the soap star. His first day of shooting is tomorrow. He's charmingly nervous, and I know he will do a bang-up job.
Tuesday, March 6, 2007
Oops
So, I managed not to transfer an appointment change in my book from the studio's book, and got a call from the studio that my client was there just a few minutes before I planned to leave home. Arghhhhh. I hate when things like this happen. I know that they do, and I'm not above it, but I work really hard to avoid those moments. I felt awful. My client was really understanding, and I added a session to her card as an apology, but gosh, I thought I might throw up; I was shaking. Ugh. Just ugh.
Must Be Better About Transferring Appointments To Own Book. MUST.
Must Be Better About Transferring Appointments To Own Book. MUST.
The Archivist, by Martha Cooley
An interesting book about how we "archive" our lives, and how sometimes some of the archiving is done for us. Many-layered, there are stories of the present and past, parallels between the lives of the main characters and the life of T.S. Eliot, and a large section is the journal of the narrator's wife. It reads like a very old book to me (and not in a bad way) despite being published in 1998. It's a very literary book, and dense (also not in a bad way), and I enjoyed it.
Mommies Who Drink, by Brett Paesel
Highly entertaining, a little self-indulgent, and quite funny. She's a very self-deprecating writer, and her tales of growing into motherhood without losing her identity are fun, and a quick read.
Saturday, March 3, 2007
The Return of the Tao
I thought I'd just pick this up and see what today is all about. It turns out it's about Interpretation:
All the we experience is subjective.
There is no sensation without interpretation.
We create the world and ourselves;
Only when we stop do we see the truth.
Apparently, we are unable to be objective because we are "each condemned to our particular vantage points." Can't say that I disagree with that, but "condemned"? Really? Is it that bad? I would venture that it might be nicer to think about being lucky to have our own vantage points. Now that I think about it, objectivism sounds pretty unpleasant. Like if everyone was nice and happy all the time. Sounds good, but suddenly the color goes out of everything.
The rest of the entry is about meditation, I guess. If we can manage to shut off our interpretation (that we are condemned with, remember) we can get to a place of nothingness. Seems a little extreme to me.
So, for me, I will take this: no one can be objective, because we are all blessed with our particular view points. The real magic is in remembering that everyone else has a particular view point, too, and finding a way to respect that and keep things in perspective. Walk in another man's shoes and all that.
And while I don't think I'll ever aspire to achieving nothingness, it can be nice to quiet the inner voices and just be every now and then.
All the we experience is subjective.
There is no sensation without interpretation.
We create the world and ourselves;
Only when we stop do we see the truth.
Apparently, we are unable to be objective because we are "each condemned to our particular vantage points." Can't say that I disagree with that, but "condemned"? Really? Is it that bad? I would venture that it might be nicer to think about being lucky to have our own vantage points. Now that I think about it, objectivism sounds pretty unpleasant. Like if everyone was nice and happy all the time. Sounds good, but suddenly the color goes out of everything.
The rest of the entry is about meditation, I guess. If we can manage to shut off our interpretation (that we are condemned with, remember) we can get to a place of nothingness. Seems a little extreme to me.
So, for me, I will take this: no one can be objective, because we are all blessed with our particular view points. The real magic is in remembering that everyone else has a particular view point, too, and finding a way to respect that and keep things in perspective. Walk in another man's shoes and all that.
And while I don't think I'll ever aspire to achieving nothingness, it can be nice to quiet the inner voices and just be every now and then.
In The Company of Liars, by David Ellis
This book is written in reverse chronological order. Sounds kind of gimmicky, but it sucked me in really quick. Partly, the story is good, but partly, I was just fascinated to see if he could pull it off. How do you allow the reader revelations as your characters know less and less?
Make the entire story a cover-up, is how, so the reader uncovers as the characters cover. It was a really engaging book, though I have to admit I never cared too much about any of the characters. They were more like devices than people.
Make the entire story a cover-up, is how, so the reader uncovers as the characters cover. It was a really engaging book, though I have to admit I never cared too much about any of the characters. They were more like devices than people.
Girl, Interrupted, by Susanna Kaysen
Another movie I've seen recently. Have to say I didn't love the movie so much; it was just kind of okay. The book is a quick little read, which includes many of the actual papers from Kaysen's hospital stay. The structure is kind of neat. More stream-of-consciousness than literal narrative, with some pretty big leaps here and there, but it manages to convey some of her sense of disconnection and disengagement while she was hospitalized.
Little Children, by Tom Perrotta
This one is continuing my kick of reading the book and seeing the movies and comparing. We'll move the movie to the top of our Netflix list as soon as it's available, and I'm planning to place holds on Perrotta's other books (including Election, which was a terrific movie) soon.
When I picked this book up from the library, I had an eerie moment of recognition, which I explained away as simply recognizing the cover from the LAPL website. It's pretty distinctive: a field of perfectly manicured grass with two smiley goldfish crackers looking at each other. Then I started to read it.
I have read this before. I can't remember exactly when, but certainly in the last two years. I tend not to retain large parts of the stories, though, so it was almost like reading a new book, but with lovely moments of remembering.
I really liked this one, and I'm eager to see what the movie is like. It seems like adapting it wouldn't have been too difficult; it's a fairly contained story, with a minimum of characters and locations. The characters are marvelously complex, and easily recognizable. There are scenes early in the book of mothers gathering at a park and more or less judging each other, which I remember from my nannying days.
Highly recommend this one.
When I picked this book up from the library, I had an eerie moment of recognition, which I explained away as simply recognizing the cover from the LAPL website. It's pretty distinctive: a field of perfectly manicured grass with two smiley goldfish crackers looking at each other. Then I started to read it.
I have read this before. I can't remember exactly when, but certainly in the last two years. I tend not to retain large parts of the stories, though, so it was almost like reading a new book, but with lovely moments of remembering.
I really liked this one, and I'm eager to see what the movie is like. It seems like adapting it wouldn't have been too difficult; it's a fairly contained story, with a minimum of characters and locations. The characters are marvelously complex, and easily recognizable. There are scenes early in the book of mothers gathering at a park and more or less judging each other, which I remember from my nannying days.
Highly recommend this one.
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