If you want to find me ... I'll be out in the sandbox.
Look at the cover of Will & Me and tell me that I could have possibly left it on the shelf. While I won't say that Almighty Bill has taken total possession of my life and well-being, a substantial amount of my formerly free time is now devoted to his works through our company's relentless pursuit of them.
2006: Love's Labour's Lost and Twelfth Night.
2007: Much Ado About Nothing and Merry Wives of Windsor.
Next year? We're starting with Midsummer in the spring. Everyone that auditions will want to be Puck.
I've not made too much headway into Dromgoole's book, which is basically a memoir. So far, the writing is compelling, if a bit heady. He writes like I speak when I'm given too much time to prepare and too few limits on time and subject. In other words, the gentleman rambles. But in there, between the too big words and the out-of-step references, I've found some excellent pieces of personal history that sound a bit like my own.
But I knew walking into Powell's of Chicago that I couldn't bear walking back out without making at least a single purchase. So when I saw the spine of this one on a nearby shelf, I knew it would be coming home with me.
So far, the reading is easier than one might expect an eighty-plus year old popular book to me. The type-setting is as it was, which takes some adjustment. Even the introduction is about ten years older than I. But Long's abilities as a story-teller are readily evident, particularly in the way he offers occasional glances into his home life, giving away witty asides from his father.
What shows are you looking forward to in the new fall TV season?
Is it fair to say that I'm looking forward to Torchwood on BBC America, even if I've already seen the season's worth of shows?
I really ought to return to Vox more often.
I've been finished and out of Fanboy for weeks now. And how was it? Well, I'll be honest about a couple of things. For one, I thought the approach was honest and the story compelling, more real than I expected. There were several moments where I really felt (remembered) the particular joy or discomfort of the titular hero. I've been there. Been back, too. And in the end, I was left with the same hope for Fanboy as I should've had more often for my young self.
The play kept me from delving too deeply into anything new since. But now that our spring show is successfully completed, I've been drawn to my shelves, to the books I have already. And the one that caught my eye last night, the book that I read more of this morning, my other hand stirring oatmeal dilligently, was Hunter S. Thompson final collection.
Kingdom Of Fear compiles several of Thompson's posts with Sports Illustrated Online, but it should not be dismissed as some kind of irrelevant sports tome. I'm several pages in, and apart from disparaging remarks about a lily-white basketball player, his focus has remained on himself, on politics and how he sought to maintain his critical-balance above (or below) the political fray.
The Astonishing Adventures of Fanboy and Gothgirl continues.
And I'm realizing that the author is cheating. Actually, that's unfair, but the word seems still apt. One of the greatest barriers to progressing further with my attempted NaNoWriMo from last November, the one based loosely on my own high school life, was the troublesome use of past and present tense to express events ongoing and instances past. Do I write it all in the here and now? Or do I attempt to cast it all as a reminiscence? Barry Lyga doesn't concern himself with such bothersome troubles. Instead, he barrels head on through the story, keeping it in first person and giving us every moment right as it comes, unapologetically in the present. And when he must take time to delve into a little backstory, he does so through vignetted chapters with appropriate subtitles.
Fortunately, the read is a compelling one. An hour's reading pulled me through a good one-hundred pages, even with occasional interruptions. I should be done with the book within the week. So maybe the immediacy isn't so much of a bad thing.
However, the timing of this selection runs afoul of reality. In light of yesterday's shooting at VT, it is more than a little unsettling to meet the titular Goth Girl then read her exasperated observation of at-school life:
"Sometimes don't you just wish someone would break into school and kill all of them?"
Ominous.
It is oddly fitting that I turned the last page of Lamb just yesterday morning. A story about the life of Jesus, told from the point of view of his childhood best friend, finished just after breakfast on Easter morning. And yet, knowing the ending that was inevitable, the resolution seemed incredibly abrupt. I read Lamb on the advice of a friend. She agrees with me. For all of the humor and speculation, Lamb is deeply involved and perfectly detailed. Moore's imagined journeys of the Messiah-in-training (and his ridiculous (yet oddly noble) companion) are all so well-researched that none of them seem entirely impossible. The Bible itself offers little to bring the reader from his childhood to his adult ministry, so why wouldn't he have gone East? Studied with monks and observed mystics?
But when Moore returns the boys to Jerusalem, he seems to feel the compulsion of time gnawing at his writer's heels. Either that, or he wasn't sure just how to work with material that's tighter bound to Scriptural record. And as the Ending looms ever larger, time grows shorter and the plot proceeds quicker, almost stumbling over itself.
All in all, Lamb is an fine book, made all the better by my upbringing, by lessons learned for which Moore's tale offers likely origins. And it is very funny, irreverent in parts, while avoiding an outright sense of what any right-thinking person would call sacrilege.
Next book: The Astonishing Adventures of Fanboy and Gothgirl.
"It’s the tale of a 15-year-old outcast (“Fanboy”), who suffers from a miserable high school existence and depressing home life alleviated only by his dreams of a mint copy of Giant-Size X-Men #1 and Bendis reading his graphic novel at a local con. Then one day he meets Kyra, aka “Goth Girl,” and things go in a very strange, potentially dangerous direction."*
Three months on. I need to catch up with me.
The Obama book has been read and enjoyed. By reading The Audacity Of Hope, I knew more than most what was inevitable. Barack Obama had to announce. He was born to run in this race for 2008. The ideas he presents in TAOH are so incredibly tangible, so full of promise while being entirely achievable with the space of a single Presidential term. Most of them anyway.
I started on Bill Richardson's biography, but as of today, I've progressed little beyond his first few months with the State Department. For all of Obama's formidable traits of character and drive, nobody should ever say that Richardson is lacking in diplomatic prowess. The man was making negotiation look easy before he even left college.
And finally, I have relented to Alyssa's insistence. She said over and over that I should read Christopher Moore's Lamb. I resisted, not because I doubted its value as entertainment, but because the description I'd heard all around made the book look like one long satirical riff on the Gospel story, one that hit the obvious targets that are visible even to the most pious among us.
But to my surprise, I am finding the book oddly compelling, even poignant in parts. Sure, the story is fueled by humor, by the inclusion of a carefree childhood pal into a Joshua-bar-Joseph's life, yet there remains a sweet heart to many of the little invented events of his (His?) childhood. There is one part (passage) where Joshua tastes his first cup of strong coffee. And off he goes through the crowd at Antioch, buzzing cheerfully on caffeine, bumping into person after person and healing them blatently as he goes. There is such an honest joy to the scene, and that joy seems to confirm an inner sense that this imaginary little boy is behaving just as we might hope an innocent and eager Son of God would.
"Look at how many I can help. If I try hard enough ... I can help them all."
Or maybe it is just me.
Still no more progress on the Rankin book. I'll get back to it. Soon. Maybe after the next show is done.
Are you throwing or attending a holiday party this year? Any ideas/tips to share?
Already threw one. Tips to share?
- More food is better than no food, but make sure that the food you prepare/provide is desirable food. Make all the impressive little candy-cane/graham-cracker sleighs you want, but your guests will appreciate the simple snacks more.
- Let the party mutate, split, then coalesce again. If everyone is not in the same room, don't worry. A good party usually stakes claims simultaneously in the living room and the kitchen.
- Put the pets away. Better for the cats to complain later, than for the host to worry about their welfare during the fray.
- Be ready for people to stay overnight. Have some blankets, extra pillows, etc.
Got one book today as an early Christmas present. Borrowed another hurriedly from a friend. Thank you, Alyssa, for Barack Obama's latest. And thank you, Dan, for providing me with a gateway novel for Haruki Murakawi. Either one of these might threaten my progress with Robert Rankin, but we'll see ...
Of course, it dawns on me that the last WWI novel I read was consumed very quickly en route back from the UK. Two things. First of all, memories of Britain's sacrifices during the The Great War aren't very well hidden from the visiting tourist. Practically every town, great and small, has a rather obvious monument to their local fallen. Secondly, nothing compels one to plow bravely through anything like a Trans-Atlantic flight.
Instead, I've picked up an entirely different distraction. Robert Rankin's The Witches of Chiswick. Why? Well, I read and loved 2003's The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse, twisted as it was. I considered picking up that book's latest sequel, but chose instead to see what Rankin does with time travel, art and the manipulation of history.
(At least, that's what I think the plot of this book will encompass. I might be completely wrong. After all, Chocolate Bunnies kept me happily in the dark for far longer than most sci-fi played for humor's sake.)
