Liars and Saints

There's quite a bit to say against the short story. Publishers tend to lump an entire career of short stories into one book. "Collected Stories of Eudora Welty." "The Stories of Ann Beattie." Who wants to read seven hundred pages of stories by one writer? The object itself seems unwieldy. The writer did not intend for her work to be in an anthology. Alice Munro wrote--and designed--"The Beggar Maid." She didn't design "Alice Munro: Collected Stories," or "Collected Stories II," or "Vintage Munro." Also, if your education is anything like mine, then your high-school teachers seem unaware that women occasionally write stories. Your high-school teachers think the only short story on the books is "The Things They Carried," by Tim O'Brien, and you yourself have never fought in a war, and you also have limited interest in what it means to be a straight man (a thought experiment), so you get turned off.

One of my favorite musicals--and a show I'm so excited to present to my son--is "A Charlie Brown Christmas." Some thoughts: *This isn't really a conventional musical. There's no "I Want" song. Characters do not (consistently) lean on music in times of great emotion. You don't get a big solo from the star. *Still, "A Charlie Brown Christmas" uses music, and it tells a story, so I'm putting it in the "musical" category. *ACBC concerns depression. Charlie Brown can't "get happy" in the Christmas season because everything has "gone commercial." Lucy, Charlie's shrink, diagnoses Charlie and offers advice: "Get involved. Become part of the stream of life." To do this, Charlie directs the local Christmas play. A catastrophic idea, everyone is consumed with ego and distracted, etc. Despairing, Charlie asks the resident philosopher, Linus, to remind him what Christmas is all about. And we get

How to take care of a pet. Really, kid, the key is to let *Salvy* take care of *you* .... He does this already. He slobbers all over your face on a regular basis (and you are strangely impassive, like the Buddha). When you're upset, Salvy approaches and seems to show genuine concern--and you can tell me I'm projecting, but I'll never really believe that. It's concern. Canine hand-wringing. Recently, we had balloons outside the house, and Salvy believed that the balloons were intruders. And he was ready to *maul* those balloons--tear them to pieces. He shouted down those balloons for minutes on end. That's love. Salvy will eat the bits of cucumber you drop on the floor while cooking--the things you inevitably fumble because you aren't paying attention, you're sort of half-listening to a true-crime story on your iPhone--and, in Salvy's presence, you will never need to find extra space for leftovers. There are minor issues that a pro would addre

It's the fortieth anniversary of the premier of Stephen Sondheim's masterpiece, "Sweeney Todd," possibly the closest-to-perfect piece of writing in musical theater, in world history. Some thoughts: *Leonard Bernstein was a testy father, and one day he was particularly difficult with his daughter. His daughter later spotted a family friend, Stephen Sondheim. She complained to Sondheim about her father's mystifying recent bitchiness. Sondheim thought, and said: "He might be in a bad mood. SWEENEY TODD happened this weekend. Its success might be hard for him." *Lorrie Moore calls Sondheim "the Dark Prince of Broadway," and she notes that there is a conspicuous flat note in "Sweeney Todd," in the song "Johanna." The flat happens to occur when the singer hits the syllable "win," in "window." (Moore does *not* note that the flat happens elsewhere, again, in the song, on the word "dream." But three

How to fix something instead of replacing it. I'm really bad at this one. I tend to replace, replace, replace. For example: A coffeemaker. If you go online, you read about hardened calcium? Or something like this? And the de-calcification process? Good Lord. I see this, and my head spins. Your other dad says: Maybe appliances aren't your terrain. Maybe thank-you card writing and cooking are the skills to focus on. There are two cases where I did pseudo-fix an item, and I'm proud: (1) I broke a French press from a valued friend. Instead of trashing the (functional) plunger, I paired it with an over-sized coffee mug--like the kind you'd see on "Friends," in Central Perk--and this was a triumph. A newly-re-fashioned French press. (2) I had a copy of the John Williams novel "Stoner," and I spilled salsa on the title page. I was really pissed, because I loved this book; I thought it was holy. I'm neurotic about keeping my books in pristine c

And now--to address the elephant in the room--there's a new Taylor Swift album. The praise--from the NYT, Vulture, Rolling Stone, L.A. Times--is emphatic. One inane piece--in the Washington Post--complains that Swift returns too often to the same territory, and I'm reminded of Hilary Mantel on Anita Brookner: "The critics grew frustrated. They wanted Brookner's heroines to get out more, to cheer up. To take some Prozac...." The real stand-out is the cancer song, "Soon You'll Get Better," in which Swift addresses her sick mother. Swift observes her mother, ranking the nurses, "making the best of a bad deal." She contrasts her mom's behavior with her own behavior: "I just pretend it isn't real." It's odd that Swift includes an entire song about Kanye West--"I Forgot that You Existed"--and the fact that she continuously announces how little she cares about West? This makes it hard to believe that she rea

Everything I know about writing, and about my marriage, is captured in James Marshall's "Split Pea Soup." Martha the hippo enjoys making split pea soup, which creates a massive problem for her friend, George. George doesn't like the soup. George--worried about others' delicate feelings--keeps his thoughts to himself. He takes the soup and hides it in his shoes. Of course, this doesn't work. Martha spots the sodden shoes, confronts George, and learns the truth. A happy twist: Martha herself is not so wild about the soup, and really enjoys only the act of *making* it. So she'll just find those pleasures--the thrills of measuring, mixing, testing--by other means. She will make chocolate-chip cookies. The End. Others have praised--and praised and praised--James Marshall. Can I just join the chorus and ask: Who on Earth would have the imagination and humor to invent a hippo who deliberately hides split pea soup in his shoes? Is there a more perfect me

Ah, Summer 2019! We picked up Joshua. We learned the ropes of the Baby Brezza--a machine, like a Nespresso module, capable of spitting out drinks. The drinks just happen to be bottles of baby formula. I persisted with a not-too-brutal diet: No beer unless it's the weekend, leave something on your plate, chocolate is for the weekend. Formerly unwearable tee shirts became wearable. A triumph! I pitched a story to an actual magazine. A story about Howard Ashman. Rejection! But the whole affair reminded me of my love for Howard Ashman, and it reminded me that a little discomfort is not a terrible thing. I made ground-lamb tacos. With lime, lager, and olive oil. This is something worth revisiting. And now, some late-summer awards, for those in need of reading material: Best Book I Read This Summer: "Ladies who Punch." It's about the women of "The View," and it's like a great thriller. It's also a serious approach to a phenomenon that others

Around fifteen years ago, I arrived in New York City from the pseudo-midwest. I knew nothing; I carried around George Eliot's "Silas Marner," hoping I could will myself to be interested. I ate fifteen-dollar pancakes at the Applejack Diner, in midtown. I had only a vague understanding that Manhattan extended--a bit--below Union Square. I wore pleated pants. My first boss--Russell Perreault--was an imperious gay man; I think he had willed himself out of some small town and invented his own life. He had a domestic partner and a house in Connecticut; he ran the publicity wing of Vintage Books. He was small and fast-talking, and he seemed to be a legend. I don't think Mr. Perreault took much of an interest in me or in my internship--the main duty I recall was sticking "Nominated for a National Book Award" badges on semi-obscure books, after nominations were announced--but I did learn a few things from Mr. Perreault: * If you yourself want to wear a bow

NPR has polled readers for a list of the funniest books ever written--and, sorry to say, the list is brutally disappointing. A proper list would need to include, at the least: *"Jane and Prudence" (Barbara Pym) *"Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You" (Peter Cameron) *"A Gate at the Stairs" (Lorrie Moore) *"Mrs. Fletcher" (Tom Perrotta) *"Some Hope" (Edward St. Aubyn) Shape up, NPR! How many readers are really clutching their sides over "Candide"? Just an observation...... https://www.npr.org/2019/08/20/752044550/we-did-it-for-the-lols-100-favorite-funny-books P.S. Any one of the George and Martha picture books -- by James/Ed Marshall -- would be a good addition to the NPR list.

How to check your tire pressure. Hmmm...I can show you how to pay someone to do this. How to hang a framed photo. Well, here's a suggestion: Decorate with decals. You can find them cheap on Amazon. If the sticky piece is really long and convoluted, and everything gets twisted up, you can snip the sticky piece into several small, manageable fragments, and then your "canvas" becomes very arty. How to choose an appropriate book in the library. This is a great skill. In late August, you will find yourself swamped with anxiety--thoughts of coming school, or work, obligations. In my view, this is not a great time to "branch out." You want the literary version of comfort food. Ramona Quimby stories, British murder mysteries, Anne Tyler sagas. Save the experimentation for *early* summer. A general question: Does a work of prose ever need to go on for more than three hundred pages? Be skeptical toward fat books, particularly fat books written by men. This is just

Recently--as I've noted--the NYT listed all fifty states, and then paired a true-crime classic with each of the states. I remain obsessed with this list. A few additional notes: * California is truly a star. The Times chose "American Heiress"--a wonderful Jeffrey Toobin story about Patty Hearst. Can't go wrong with that. (Great crime writing should have an aura of mystery--so it's as if you're looking at the Mona Lisa, wondering, exactly what is happening here? The unsolved mystery in "American Heiress": to what extent, if any, did Hearst really "convert" to the evil side, the side of her captors?) Fine, fine, fine. But I'd like to point out that Toobin's "The Run of His Life"--another California saga, a story of OJ Simpson, and one of the most gripping books I've ever read--could *also* win the California crime crown. Additionally, "I'll Be Gone in the Dark" would work: That's the recent tale of

Dear Baby, Your other dad has been playing, for you, "(I Love You) A Bushel and a Peck." Just a few thoughts: *This song is so famous, it has taken on a kind of folksy status. But just know that it didn't bubble up out of the collective unconscious. It was carefully crafted by the lyricist Frank Loesser--idol of Stephen Sondheim's, man responsible for "Baby, It's Cold Outside." Frank Loesser is the gold standard on Broadway, now and forever. *A bushel is an actual form of measurement. It's 32 quarts. A peck is 8 quarts. *Loesser became inspired by units of measurement. "Peck" is followed by "barrel," which is followed by "heap." I love you a barrel and a heap.... *The speaker is overwhelmed by love--and so there's a loose, nutty, stream-of-consciousness quality to the writing. "I love you a bushel and a peck...a bushel and a peck and it beats me all to heck....beats me all to heck how I'll ever ten

Jill Soloway doesn't love Bruce Springsteen's "I'm on Fire." In her memoir, she objects to the song's message. I think Bruce Springsteen isn't saying the speaker is someone to emulate; I think Springsteen is simply describing a state of being. He isn't *endorsing* anything. A few ideas stand out. The idea of sleeping with the woman--the person addressed--is so transgressive, it's like stealing a "little girl" from her "daddy." Yikes! Unbearable desire is like having someone take a knife and "cut a six-inch valley" through the middle of your skull. The image of the skull inspires another thought: Unacknowledged lust is like having a freight train in your head. I like the drama and ambivalence in this song--the lust is neither a good nor a purely-bad thing--and I like all the sweat and the heat references. Mr. Springsteen has painted a compelling picture. I'd bet that that is all he wanted to do. "Bl

We are told to talk--and talk, and talk--to our babies, and so I sift through my mental detritus: * Komodo dragons are the largest reptiles. They are found in Indonesia. *THE MUSIC MAN defeated WEST SIDE STORY for the Tony Award, and some people say that that's fine. * Polar bears are in the Arctic; penguins are in Antarctica. *Your dads like the park; it's very green. *Tigers are in Asia; lions are in Africa. My baby doesn't really respond. He does a little dance with his arms, part-maestro, part-yoga-instructor. *** Feeding is an art. The problem is that the baby falls asleep mid-bottle. So you have to tickle the soles of his feet. Then the feeding resumes. But the baby's attention will seem to wander, so you have to be coy; you have to pretend to remove the bottle from the baby's mouth. Just one little tug, and the baby snaps to attention. He decides he *does* want milk. The grass is always greener.... *** After a pushy guy circumcises your baby,

A young actress tires of playing "vacant, one-dimensional characters." She longs for a juicier role. And that role finds her. She will be "the wife who gets cheated on" in a brief bit of gay porn. The actress longs for transcendence. How can she "find" this character--and convey something profound about the human condition? She sifts through her props--"clues, pieces to the puzzle that is Deirdre." An Ugg boot. Some batteries. "2017" novelty glasses. Bereft, she worries she won't be able to reach some kind of emotional epiphany. She must arrive for her big moment: discovering her husband "in the act." Discovering her husband mid-coitus with her godson. And--suddenly--genius arrives. The actress understands what Deirdre--great-souled Deirdre--would say in this moment. Tearfully, Deirdre says, "I forgive you." Half the world loves this clip. I think that's mainly for the performance of Emma Stone. How m

Dear Baby, We were looking the other day at "Forty Old-Fashioned Skills All Kids Should Have." A few thoughts: * How to take note of needs around you.  Is someone shivering? Offer this person a sweater. My observation is that the number-one need people have is to be listened to. People are generally aware whether you are (a) listening with curiosity or (b) counting down the seconds until you can open your own mouth to say something that is (only) tangentially relevant. Which is not to say that option (a) is particularly easy, or that the Polonius writing this letter is good at option (a). Just an observation. * How to balance a checkbook.  I mean, I can show you how to do this, but I don't actually do this. I tend not to pay attention, until one evening, right before bed, I will become seized with anxiety about a check I may or may not have received. Where did that check go? There's a strategy called "Park Your Anxieties," where you write down

I don't remember "His Dark Materials" very well, but I can give you a few reasons to feel excited about the upcoming HBO special: *One way in which Philip Pullman outdid J.K. Rowling--if you ask me: Pullman invented a better villain. Mrs. Coulter is simply more compelling than Voldemort. It's a tradition to make the villain in your fairy tale a real hottie--and charismatic, and witty--and this is a tradition Pullman wisely follows. (Rowling does not follow this tradition.) Nicole Kidman was delicious in the wide-screen version of "The Golden Compass." She was maybe the only reason to see the movie. Who would want to take on Nicole Kidman's legacy? I can think of one answer, and it's Ruth Wilson. Wilson--so delightful as a sociopath in "Luther"--has the brains and sexiness to one-up Kidman. Possibly. We will wait and see. *"His Dark Materials"--with a title borrowed from "Paradise Lost"--is really a screed against o

My husband and I were told to encourage Joshua when he poops. So, like the dog owners we (also) are, we'll often say, "Good boy! We're so proud!" I have to say I'm surprised by the poop. It's like a hundred little pellets. Sometimes, it makes me think of the freeze-dried ice cream that became popular in the late nineties, "Dippin' Dots." My husband disagrees. He says it's like colorful liquid. Maybe I don't look too closely. In the hospital, right after the birth, the nurse will warn you that the first poop will be like tar. This has a special scientific name. On occasion, the baby can poop mid-delivery, and so it will seem as if the baby is coated in tar. (We avoided this fate.) A big surprise has been that the poop can occur mid-meal; it will happen without self-consciousness. The baby won't even seem to acknowledge what is happening. And, on a special night, you might be changing the diaper, and a new pee will occur while t

My favorite scene in "Schitt's Creek" (so far) concerns Alexis and her boyfriend, Mutt (Season Two). Alexis is continuously at war with herself--this is a by-product of being human--so, when she says, "I think it's great how we can just be in silence together," we know she actually means the opposite. "It's wonderful, our not-talking" becomes--obviously--a form of talking. When Mutt won't engage, Alexis loses her cool. "I think we can see that we both need to change here," she says. "I need to talk less and listen more, and you need to talk more and listen less." A sensible, elegant solution--but people aren't always willing to be treated as pawns. Mutt might recognize the logic behind Alexis's proposal, but he can't rearrange furniture within his psyche just to become a more-acceptable boyfriend. What's especially sharp about this moment: Mutt conveys his objection without words . For

*You'll suddenly find yourself spending more time at CVS, Target, and the doctor's office. These trips will allow you to ask: "Meghan Markle: Royal Tensions Behind the Scenes?" And: "Sandra and Jen: How Do They Make Friendship Work?" *"The Happiest Baby on the Block" is a bad idea. It's a bad idea because it makes parenthood seem like mortal combat. There are alarming essays about improper swaddle technique, and long, mind-blowing digressions about precisely how loud the noisemaker should be. Just skip all of this. *Are you slightly brittle? Even a bit cold? Don't be surprised if--nevertheless--you find yourself quietly weeping during "Tummy Time." *Some have said it's difficult to read scary and upsetting things once parenthood sets in. I'm not observing this so far. I'm more or less consistently engaged by "Devil's Knot," a true account of murder, scapegoating, and witch-hunting in Arkansas, in

A book rises and falls on the strength of its characters. “Ladies who Punch” is a history of Barbara Walters’s “The View.” And so here are the characters you get: *Rosie O’Donnell. Raped by her father, neglected by her mother. Embroiled in a one-way pseudo-love-affair with Elisabeth Hasselbeck. (“She played sports in college. I’m sure she is secretly gay.”) Rosie: blithely laying out conspiracy theories on TV. Rosie: publicly outing Clay Aiken while masquerading as a defender of Clay Aiken. (Rosie is forever and always the star of this show. Dismissed and re-hired. Watched closely by Donald Trump: “She’ll be back.”) *Tina Fey: “Of course we spoofed THE VIEW on SNL. We needed to create roles for women. You’re telling me I’m tearing down women? I’m giving women a spotlight. Of course a man needed to play Star Jones because -- deep sigh -- we had zero black women on SNL.” *Whoopi Goldberg: She wins an Oscar for GHOST; things are going well. Then she speaks out against Dubyah: “

When you're gay, you must appear before a judge to ask to take care of the kid you've sired. The judge will be friendly. She will confess--in fancy terms--to not-really-knowing what she is doing. This will be refreshing. An array of questions follows. Do you know the DNA is yours? What if the husband of your surrogate became frisky with said surrogate despite being in a "no-fly zone"? In other words, what if marital sex occurred right after the embryo transfer? A farce situation! Something appropriate for Katharine Hepburn and Cary Grant!  He thought the baby was his, but.... If you found out the baby was not biologically yours, would you still take care of the baby? Would you swear to this on the Bible? After the questions, it becomes clear that the paperwork hasn't taken shape in the way you wanted. Through some Kafka-esque trick of plotting, there's now a long wait period. The smiley, enterprising court receptionist has an idea. She

It's simple. "Who Killed Garrett Phillips?" HBO. July 2019. In the vexed New York town called Potsdam, the "North Country," a place "not easy to get to," a middle schooler heads home. He is wrapping up his school day. He enters his mom's apartment. Within one or two hours, he is strangled, dead. This is a true story. Racist cops ("We're not racist") decide that a local African-American soccer coach must have done the deed. There's very little that could even be called circumstantial evidence. The soccer coach is treated brutally; he loses his job; for years, he fights to clear his name. If he didn't actually commit the crime, then, somewhere, perhaps somewhere near Potsdam, a child-murderer is wandering around, scot-free. It's been said that following a crime story is like following a fairy tale. The "pleasures" (queasy, problematic term, in this context) on offer are similar. You sense that someone is a

"Big River" is a retelling of "Huckleberry Finn," and it's a case where the lyricist's love for the source material is constantly obvious. The lyricist isn't overly reverent toward Mark Twain. He is also not glib or superior toward his material. He writes with warmth, confidence, and energy--and a sense of humor. The town surrounding Huck can't tolerate Huck's spiritedness: "If you don't learn to read then you can't read your Bible and you'll never get to Heaven....cuz you won't know how!" Huck himself is memorably defiant: "...And I'll never change for no one....no matter what they say. If I want to smoke in church, I'll smoke. If I want to pray, I'll pray." As part of his education, Huck tries on show-business, marketing a freak show, a "Royal Nonesuch": "She's got one big breast in the middle of her chest and an eye in the middle of her nose. So says I if you look in her in

Alison Lurie, famed Key West novelist and winner of a Pulitzer Prize (and mentor of Lorrie Moore), has now published a book of her essays, "Words and Worlds." Lurie must be close to ninety years of age--perhaps older. One side-interest of Lurie's is children's literature, and "Words and Worlds" is especially fun because of the insights it offers about great books-for-kids. For example: *The epilogue of the final Harry Potter volume feels like a betrayal because--by speeding nineteen years ahead and showing Harry as a fairly complacent middle-aged bourgeois man--Rowling suggests that really very little of interest could have happened to Harry between adolescence and middle age. (Lurie also hints that killing off Harry--permanently--may have been the right way to go.) *An aspect of Harry Potter that puzzles Lurie: If Voldemort is so physically and spiritually ghastly, why would so many people and creatures follow him? Often, a villain is at least physica

A few thoughts on "The Archer" -- because -- of course.... *It's not always noted that Joni Mitchell had a substantial impact on Taylor Swift. One of Swift's favorite songwriting quotes--"a song is a thought you have when you look in the rearview mirror"--comes from (apparently) Joni Mitchell. Swift at one point wanted to play Mitchell on the big screen; a song from "Red" seems to tell The Joni Mitchell Story. *Swift's new song "The Archer" seems to follow a template laid out by Joni Mitchell in "River" (and maybe this is intentional, and maybe it isn't). "River" gives us a speaker who has lost her partner (Graham Nash, allegedly). The speaker acknowledges that Graham Nash was a great guy. The end of the affair happened strictly because of the speaker's own neurosis: "I'm so hard to handle. I'm selfish, and I'm sad. Now I've gone and lost the best baby that I ever had." We end