Favorites of 2011

Fourth day of the new year and I already have a 4 day string of exercising and decluttering one drawer/closet per day. Yes, the threatened black garbage bag is really out! New Year's resolutions-a piece of cake. You'll notice I didn't go for the tough ones, like writing a novel, getting more money for stage 4 cancer treatments or bringing peace to the Middle East (finally!)

Looking forward to a great year and of course looking back over 2011, I have to offer up some of my favorite things. First, the easy ones:

BEST BOOKS

Cutting for Stone by Abraham Verghese (fiction) A sprawling novel set between Ethiopia and America of twin boys with a special bond, tested by life events. Hard to put this one down.

The Emperor of all Maladies by Dr. Siddhartha Mukherjee (non-fiction). A history or, as he describes it, a "biography" of cancer. He talks about all cancers, not just breast cancer and relates some pretty amazing stories. I particularly liked the description of  how difficult throughout history it's been to gain acceptance of new procedures and ideas.

Life by Keith Richards (biography) 20+ disks, but well worth the listen. (You know I love Keef!)

BEST TRIP

Do you have to even ask? Alaska, hands down. As my Park Service son would say my "place attachment" remains strong. Wonderful family travel, beautiful scenery and things I thought I'd never do--kayak to a glacier, hike in close proximity to the bears, and fly in a Cessna 210 around Denali.

BEST ALBUM

Bright Morning Stars by the Wailin' Jennys- discovered this group at Bergen Community College performance and practically wore out the CD, playing it in the car. Also loved their earlier album, Forty Days and especially the single Arlington, which starts with a lovely Irish drum and has beautiful poetic lyrics.  (click on link to listen)
        

BEST PLAY

I have to restrict this category to Shakespeare, since I saw 14 plays by the bard this year, ranging from Bergen Community College production of As You Like It to King Lear with famous British actor Derek Jacobi at Brooklyn Academy of Music and also with Sam Waterston at the Public Theatre. (You know you're in trouble when you start seeing the same play and comparing different versions of it) Gary saw an additional 2 plays, but I drew the line at military history plays--Richard II and Henry V.

A Midsummer Night's Dream - a fun, easy to like Shakespeare play by the NJ Shakespeare Festival in a perfect setting: the outdoor stone amphitheatre at St Elizabeth's College.

Now the harder categories in which to pick a favorite:

BLOG: "Gee, I love them all," she said modestly.  

My pick for 2011 would be:  I still buy green bananas. Yes, Tim, I still chuckle every time I sit in the family room with my feet up in couch potato luxury.

MOVIE: Lots of good ones, none really great.

I liked The Descendants, War Horse, Midnight in Paris, The Help, The Artist.  Off beat: The Guard and Win-win. But as for best picture, I'll leave that to the Academy.

This post is starting to look like a Pinterest page, so I'd better stop. No, I can't get involved in yet another website!! (although it's fun to browse.)

So you think you can write!

This brilliant idea for a new reality show hit me on my way back to the Path train last night, after attending a writer workshop at NYU.  Very positive lady named Jamie ran it, and her philosophy of writing was this:


Everyone has a book inside themselves. They just need to think about what they're really, really interested in, what their passion is, and voila, the book will practically write itself.


Who knew?  Here I've been struggling with character profiles, subplots, backstory, dialogue and alternating points of view. Does that mean I just haven't found the right book project yet?  The hard part, according to our NYU expert, is in marketing and selling the book. Make friends, write a blog, network, give books away, create your own speaking tour...or how about appear on the next big reality show hit: "So you think you can write!" First prize: publication of your book, including an all expense paid 10 city tour.


Unlike dancing or singing, which require some talent, everyone can and should write that book, according to Jamie, whose positivity and bubbliness created a festive air among the participants. (For one fleeting moment, I thought I was in a pink ribbon rally. Yay! I've got cancer!)


OK, one woman was a bit of a Debbie Downer, saying she had done all those things and still couldn't sell her self published book. "Time to write another one" chirped Jamie "and then while you're busy doing that, the first one will probably take off on its own."  Something to do with overmothering your book, I guess.


But now came the good stuff. It was our turn. We had five minutes to write a pitch for our book and Jamie would then ask for volunteers to read their intros. This is where Jamie excelled. She was a magician, pulling ideas from the air, embellishing the trite and common story ideas, urging writers to rush home and write some dialogue that very night. Yes, Jamie passed the "Be a Judge" interview without even realizing she'd applied. She's the perfect happy, positive-spin judge--the one who sincerely regrets sending you home and may even blink back a few wet ones because "isn't life unfair that I can't pick everyone?"


Our class could easily supply the first show contestants: of those chosen to read, there were 3 men and 3 women, young and old, fat and thin, ethnically diverse. Were these people planted? We started with the newly widowed Nancy, a well dressed, attractive 59 year old with bobbed hair and long, dangly earrings that Jamie noted immediately. "Let's see, let's hear from the woman with the sparkly earrings first." (probably an asset on the public appearance trail)


Lily followed, a 30-something Filipino woman with a trashy, drug-filled past and enough adventures to rival Keith Richards. Alas, she was not famous, but would cast her memoir/novel as suburban mom revealing her shady past to her unbelieving kids. It had potential, and Jamie loved Lily's voice. "Don't you just want to be friends with Lily? Everyone? Come on, can't you see yourself hopping into that taxi cab with her for a visit to her x-rated past?"  I'm not a hallelujah kind of person but i was caught up in the moment and joined in the wild applause. From meth addict to prestigious university student to well rounded Mom, I knew Lily would nail this story.


In any group of aspiring writers there has to be a children's book author and Zara was our candidate. She spoke in short, simple sentences about her story: a nine year old girl and her bike. The girl, orphaned at age 3, lived with her grandfather until he became ill and sent her to the orphanage at age 5. Before he died, he left a bike to be given to the girl as a present on her 9th birthday. (lot of emphasis on numbers here, so maybe could also be marketed as improving arithmetic skills) Lots of exciting episodes to follow.  The end. Jamie took this sow's ear and turned it into the proverbial silk purse. Zara looked a bit dazed as one idea after another tumbled from Jamie's mouth.  
"It's a magic bike, isn't it?" 
Slight, barely perceptible nod from Zara.
"I knew it! (fist pump!) And the grandfather will be her muse. You must go home tonight and write a scene with the girl and her grandfather-OK? You can't go to sleep, until you write it!" 
Zara blinked once for yes and slipped back into her chair, turning to her friend:
"It's just a bike. It's not magic.The grandfather's dead. He's not supposed to be in the story. D'uh."
Did I really hear that or did I imagine it? No matter.


Although the audience was predominately female, Jamie was fair and next chose 3 men to balance the 3 women. I knew right away Tyrrell would be reality show gold. Tall and young, with Rastafarian dread locks and a commanding, confident presence, Tyrrell enjoyed center stage. Unlike Lily who had jumped at the echo of the mike and dropped it like it was on fire, Tyrrell tapped the mike like a professional and grabbed the sides of the podium. Was he stabilizing himself for the roller coaster ride to come? He began by relating a conversation with his cousin that swirled and pulsed through the cosmos, colliding worlds and words, poetry and gibberish. 


Jamie's face was attentive and interested, but as Tyrrell chanted on, flipping pages, pointing a finger for emphasis, the audience shifted in their seats. I thought he may have bested Jamie. What could she possibly say that was good about this? And would she say it soon or let him ramble on forever?  Tyrrell paused and some back rowers started applauding, taking matters into their own hands. Jamie rose and smiled. Was that a look of uncertainty? An element of panic? Of course not, Jamie had already passed the judge's test, so why was i doubting her.  "Tyrrell, you are clearly a spoken word artist, a performance artist with a strong presence and you need to speak at every cafe and venue you can." Wow, masterfully played, Jamie. Tyrrell was pleased with the attention and the positive assessment and the audience was relieved it was over. 


Mr. Dread Locks would be the perfect character that all the other reality contestants hate. He'd be sure to last several rounds, not because he can write, but because of the back stage drama. I bet even nice Nancy would grumble about his nonsensical preaching of intersecting universes and parallax conversions.  He would pit the older contestants vs the young new agers. And, yes, maybe there would be some story synchronicity between Zara's bike girl and Tyrrell's cousin.
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But the real back stage drama would come with the last two presenters who would obviously fight over Nancy. Frank, the widower, had been married for 29 years, when his wife died and left him with two children to raise. Before you get out the hankies, let me tell you that Frank is a resourceful guy, a doer not a thinker. Imagine the tension and desperation in this scene, as Frank struggles to pick up the pieces of his life and move on. He dials a number..then hangs up....redials, thinks of his wife...hangs up....redials, thinks of his kids....hangs up...redials and finally the call to the Singles Club goes through. It's been 30 days since his wife died. Hilarious adventures ensue. Jamie was laughing already at the potential story lines and I marvelled at the distillation of his grief into a mere 30 days. Maybe he should be re-writing the Elisabeth Kubler-Ross stages of grief.


I'm not sure if George was married or not, but he gave Nancy a nod as he started to read his memoir: NYC law enforcement for 40 years. Don't cops retire sooner than that? It turns out that George was with various, unidentified, law enforcement jobs, but not the NYPD . Hmm, could he have been a mafia enforcer or have a Russian gang connection? George looked pretty clean cut and benign, so a NYC park ranger or museum guard seemed more likely. Jamie suggested starting with a big, newsworthy crime story he was involved in: 9/11, Son of Sam, Serpico.  "No problem. I've got several," says George. He is the kind of contestant you may well underestimate and may just be the surprise winner.(of Nancy and/or the whole show).


The only details remaining for this reality show would be the additional judges. Jamie has a lock on the positive judge. I was thinking a Maureen Dowd or a Tina Fey for the lightly sarcastic, humorous perspective and then a Jonathan Frantzen type for the moody, dark, incisive comments that would leave a writer speechless, teary-eyed, dropping pens and papers all over the stage or should it be crashing an iPad to the ground? Jamie had already made a snide comment about Mr. Literary Fiction Man Frantzen and we know how judges sniping at each other always adds a nice touch. 


Stay tuned. If I can't find my inner muse soon, I'm shipping this reality show script off to Simon Cowell. He may be getting bored with auditioning singers and with that lovely British accent, he must read books, right? 

The Pleasure of My Company

I was looking through a library rack (old school!) and found a 2003 work of fiction by that "wild and crazy guy" from SNL-- our old pal Mr. Martin. Photo on front of book shows a guy with arms hugging his own body, so how could I go wrong with that?

This book did not disappoint. Our antagonist is Dan, an OCD math whiz (possibly autistic) who sits in a Santa Monica condo, looking out his window....Hmm,  I do that:

Dan can walk to a particular pharmacy, only if no curbs mar his trip. His plan is to cross his road at a spot that has a carport path on his right, facing a matching carport path across said road. A six inch curb is truly six yards high in Dan's world.  I, too, know many hours a day in Fort NJBookwoman, so  I can say "Hurrah" to Dan's valiant contacts with a non-nurturing world. I do cross my Fort's boundary daily with a sashay down my long carport path to pick up mail.

But Dan still has many wondrous actions and things to talk about, such as this:
Dan is on a TV criminal show about a killing in his building.

or this:
A company that cooks up yummy fruit pastry starts a campaign that Dan wins, as Most Normal Guy in this happy country of ours.

or this:
Dan waits for Clarissa, his psychologist in training who visits on Fridays and has a baby boy.

or this:
Dan has fantasy thoughts about a foxy lady who is usually across from his brick building, lounging against a fancy black car and talking to guys and gals who want to own a condo. This lady has a Montblanc and says "Sign now", but Dan just longs for this lady to look up at his window and grin at him.

Hmm again...Is it unusual that I can sight similar signs on my own road and a black car:

But I spy no man who works for an organization on that sign. (Nor do I long for such a man!)


and finally Dan's big crisis:
Dan's Grandma stops living and Dan wants to go to visit and honor his granny. Clarissa and baby son will go, too. Can Dan do it? No, too many things to worry about, but Dan wants to try so hard. So our autistic pal thinks and says "I'll go but won't say words that contain this particular part of ABCs and I will focus on this task and won't worry about all things which normally limit my world."

TA DA! Dan did it!

Stop, you say! You know what is amiss.

OK. Finis.

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Whew, I'm exhausted. Did you figure it out? Or did you worry I had started drinking in the morning or toking in the afternoon? 

Look again at this crazy post---no e's! (although i cheated a tiny bit with the title of the post)

Steve Martin's The Pleasure of My Company is a very funny and touching novel and  commentary on modern life, love and loneliness. The narrator and hero is Daniel Pecan Cambridge, who travels all the way to Texas despite his myriad phobias by focusing on a game of speaking without using any words that have the letter E in them.  Along the way he learns to reclaim his life.

Before you say I have way too much time on my hands, consider this as an exercise in preventive Alzheimer's. You know, learn a new language, do crossword puzzles, keep the brain active in new ways. Speak (or write) without e's! You may want to try it, but give yourself a break and begin with an easier vowel: U would be a good choice and writing is definitely easier than speaking!