Liars and Saints

 I've really enjoyed reading with Josh from "The Man who Took the Indoors Out," a semi-obscure narrative poem by Arnold Lobel. Of course Lobel is known for "Frog and Toad," but he also experimented with verse. (See "Indoors Out" and "The Great Blueness.") "Indoors Out" is a silly poem in which an eccentric man feels bad about his various possessions. They have to stay under a roof; they can't enjoy the spring air. So this man--Bellwood Bouse--invites his possessions outside for a big festival. Chairs, plates, broomsticks. But the festival gets out of control, and Bouse can't lure his materials back into the living room and kitchen. Chaos ensues. The image of plates dancing makes me think of another gay artist--Howard Ashman, who wrote "Beauty and the Beast." And it's delightful to see what Lobel can do with simple language and correct meter: There was an old man Who was named Bellwood Bouse.... He loved all the

 "Brad's Status" is a journey story: A man needs to take his son for an admissions interview at Harvard. This would seem easy enough, but the Harvard issue brings about a mid-life crisis. Why doesn't our man--Brad--have more money? When his in-laws die, what will they do with their cash? They wouldn't actually leave it to charity? Brad's "Silver Points" card should offer some form of retail therapy, at the airport, but in fact Silver Points won't get you out of the long "pleb" line. Maybe an upgrade to business class would help--but the upgrade, per seat, is around 800 dollars. After Brad tortures himself, he decides to go ahead with the absurd purchase, and it's at this point that he discloses that the original ticket was bought on sale via Orbitz. The Delta rep says, "We can't upgrade an Orbitz ticket. There is literally no sum of money you could offer that would lead to an upgraded ticket." Things get worse when Bra

 Friends wrote with book suggestions: Tomie dePaola's "The Baby Sister," along with "Mail Harry to the Moon" and "That New Animal." The latter two are in COVID "processing limbo," at my library, so I expect I'll have them soon. One friend mailed a few editions of the Frances books; at a certain point, Frances gets a baby sister, Gloria. "Baby Sister for Frances" handles family tension in a sweet way: Frances seems to like Gloria, and Frances isn't particularly outraged at the new family-shape. She just calmly decides to "run away from home," makes this announcement, then plants herself under the dining-room table. Her parents continue to chat with her while she is "in exile," and eventually she climbs back out and eats a piece of cake. Tomie dePaola's memory of acquiring a baby sister is also sweet (though there is some relatable drama, as well). When Mom goes off to have the baby, "Tommy" i

 "Margin Call" is a beautiful, severe film about the collapse of Lehman Brothers. A young man discovers that a major bubble is about to burst; he brings the news to higher-ranking colleagues. Meetings ensue; whom should we blame? Which heads should roll? How can Lehman Brothers minimize its own "health problems" after the disaster? Amoral Jeremy Irons--ruler of the world, owner of a private chopper--announces a plan. Lehman Brothers will knowingly sell off its worthless assets to interested buyers; there will be some lying. Let ignorant competitors shoulder some of the "hurt." Throughout all this ugliness, the camera keeps drifting back to Penn Badgley, a minor player, possibly a sociopath, who can pass the time only by asking, "You know that guy on the third floor? The fourth floor? What do you think his annual salary is? The stripper in front of us -- what do you think she makes in one night?" When Penn Badgley learns that he will lose his own

I've written before about how James Marshall and Arnold Lobel "talked" to each other through their stories. I think I have a new example. In the late seventies, Lobel published "Shivers." In this saga, it's a dark, cold night, and Frog wants to "celebrate" with a frightening story. He has a perfect one at hand: Imagine an Old Dark Frog. He (ODF) longs to eat baby frogs. One night, he attacks our narrator in the forest. "Take this jump rope; help me work off my fat so I can get hungry and eat you." Our narrator buys some time; then he acts decisively. He restrains the Old Dark Frog with the jump rope .....and escapes. Victory! A satisfying tale. In the late eighties, James Marshall looked at the same scenario. And he asked: Does life really work that way? On his own "dark, stormy night," he has George lead a terrifying expedition to the attic. But there's nothing there -- just a box of rubber bands. Disappointed, Martha offer

 "The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel" is a movie invented in a laboratory, and the lab was staffed by people who know exactly what I want. These people had an x-ray of my heart on display, and this x-ray led them to toss together: Judi Dench, Maggie Smith, Tom Wilkinson, a majestic ibis (I think it's an ibis?), and many stunning shots of glittery palaces and broad rivers. This is all I want from a film. Why do others find this hard to grasp? The story doesn't matter, but basically it's Judi Dench emerging from a forty-year marriage and realizing she has never had "agency." She travels to India, to a new "retirement" home, to try to do something with her life. She finds a job (her first); she seems to be a kind of coach for telemarketers, and this is appropriate, because she herself has been brutally mistreated by telemarketers. ("I'm sorry your husband has died.....Let me tell you about our attractive new offerings....") Meanwhile, To

Sara Paretsky's great invention is VI Warshawski--a heroic detective, like Olivia Benson, but with a bit more sass. Over many years (thirty? thirty and change?) Warshawski has investigated crimes in Chicago; her main interest is helping the little guy, and ensuring that the big guy pays for his misdeeds. "Brush Back"--a recent Warshawski novel--has a murder mystery at its center. Who killed Annie, an ambitious, forward-thinking young woman in a conservative home? Could her mother have offed her because of her sex life? Or could a male employer have assaulted her, then killed her to cover up the assault? In any Paretsky book, the plot twists become challenging to follow; I'd strip back the complexity maybe by twenty percent. But I read for Warshawki's braininess: I love when she knocks a reporter's camera from his hands "by accident," then laughs and says, "Goodness, I didn't realize you were standing so close to me! I hope nothing is broken.

 "The Stupids Have a Ball" seems unavailable, basically everywhere, but just so you know, it's the first sequel to "The Stupids Step Out." Marshall once again collaborates with Harry Allard (another gay man? the story is mysterious?) .... This time, the Stupid children bring home their report cards, and it's revealed that they have failed in literally each and every one of their subjects. Mr. Stupid is triumphant. As he correctly observes, failing literally everything is really hard to do . (The little cat, Xylophone, is so excited, her tail gets lodged permanently inside her nose.) Anyway, the Stupids design a celebratory costume party. They invite all their cousins. People arrive in meat-dresses, in bubble wrap, in large paper bags. A grand party for everyone, and then the punchline....wait for it....While cleaning, Petunia pauses and says, "Dad, we forgot to tell people that this was a *costume* party!" A work so brilliant should be available in

 It's not news to say that Ramona Quimby is a great character, a standout in the history of American literature, and that the Ramona novels are one, long, thrilling work of art. (Could you argue that the series is *the* iconic American Novel? I won't fight you.....) "Ramona the Brave" -- the third Ramona book -- shows how an inner voice begins to assert itself. Ramona, no longer in Kindergarten, misses her carefree days. She has an idea of herself as courageous, admirable--and others begin to challenge this idea. Beezus doesn't appreciate Ramona's playground "heroism." Ramona's teacher--the dreary Mrs. Griggs--seems not to notice Ramona's artistic talent, and instead dwells on Ramona's lack of self-control. The galling thing is that both Beezus and Mrs. Griggs have a point. Ramona--in strange, exciting moments--hovers above herself and begins to understand how others might see her actions in an un-generous light. People don't automati

 All eyes are on the inauguration today, but a part of me is also contending with the fact that Josh will have a little sister in six months (knock on wood). I realized something yesterday--in reference to some couples: Things are strange if your kid can't see the evidence of a developing little sibling for the nine months of gestation. If you're having a baby through surrogacy, then the arrival of the second child can be a real shock for the first child. "Wait a minute, shouldn't I have been prepared for this?" So I'm starting to compile a list of good books about siblings--for Josh. The gold standard is "Beezus and Ramona," in my view, but this is a bit advanced. I'm thinking about: *"Arthur and the Big Snow" *"Julius, the Baby of the World" *"Noisy Nora" .....Other suggestions are welcome!

 Every few years, the Ramona books are reissued, and a new illustrator is enlisted. I guess this is because certain visual elements--e.g. kitchen design, fashion--are not exactly timeless. The new illustrations give 2021 children a chance to imagine that Ramona is a child *today* .....not a child in the 1970s. All that said, like many, I value Louis Darling's illustrations above all else. Darling did the first Ramona images. These are engraved on my brain; these pictures are engraved on *many* brains. Ramona has insane hair, and she wears overalls. Sometimes, her arms are thrown wildly over her head; her shoelaces are untied. Sometimes, her expression of disgust makes you think she has just witnessed a Trump speech. (More likely, she has learned that dinner tonight will be meatloaf--or something like this.) I also enjoy Ramona biking through her kitchen, her head thrown back as if possessed by strange head-spirits; Mrs. Quimby is standing ram-rod straight, and though her back is tu

 "Philomena" is an odd-couple story. A cynical journalist semi-randomly meets an old lady whose son was robbed from her by the Catholic Church. Then, like detectives, the two new friends go off in search of the son. One would expect the search to be moderately challenging, but not impossible: Hasn't the Church kept records? No, a mysterious fire has interceded. Also, you can't talk to the elderly nuns who might remember Catholic misdeeds from the fifties and sixties; these nuns are locked away like Mrs. Rochester in shadowy hallways. Bizarrely, at an Irish bar, our heroes discover that the Church actually sold abducted babies to wealthy Americans mid-century. This leads to an intercontinental flight, and then one new horror after another: The full discovery of the Church's wrongdoing is saved for the climactic scene. "Philomena" won many awards, and it nearly won a Best Picture Oscar; that's partly because of the script, which manages to be a serious

 I think that Arnold Lobel and James Marshall were in dialogue with each other; Marshall alludes to Lobel in "The Special Gift," and Lobel dedicates "Frog and Toad All Year" to Marshall. I think Marshall sometimes made a point of "rewriting" Lobel. Take "Christmas Eve." This is the Frog-and-Toad where Toad suffers with his broken clock. He can't tell how late Frog is for dinner; he just knows that it's dark outside. Unmoored, Toad becomes panicky; he thinks that Frog has fallen in a hole or fallen prey to a beast. Then Frog arrives. He has been delayed because of gift-wrapping; he needed to find the right ribbon for Toad's present, which is a new and functional clock. Four years later, Marshall did something shockingly different with the same raw materials. He *begins* his story, "The Clock," with one friend giving another friend a clock. But--in Marshall's subversive imagination--this is exactly the *wrong* gift. What h

 Emma Stone is pregnant, and I'm delighted for her, and I just want to celebrate Ms. Stone in a few paragraphs. SNL almost cut the skit "The Actress" -- surely, the greatest moment among all the great SNL moments -- and it's Emma Stone who insisted that "The Actress" actually happen. Emma Stone is the main watchable feature in "Crazy, Stupid, Love," and if you go through the reviews, you'll see more than one critic saying, "Despite my reservations, I enjoyed the movie because of Emma Stone....." Emma Stone is using her post-Oscar-win capital to remake Glenn Close's "101 Dalmatians" -- and even though I haven't seen the new movie, just thinking about it makes me smile. And I admire Stone's decision-making; surely, "Cruella" is a movie that *needs* to happen. Finally: Maybe my favorite moment in Hollywood history (as of now)....is the set-up for "Easy A." Ms. Stone lies about her weekend to make

  When I look back on this crazy time, I will think of the Zodiac killer. Mid-summer, months into Covid's long reign, my family and I took a short trip. That's not important. What matters is that we took the Garden State Parkway to get home, and our tire exploded. Or something like this. It stopped working. There we were on a busy highway, and I had a small infant in my arms. My husband reached a towing company by phone, and--with admirable speed--a happy, wheezing, middle-aged man arrived on the scene. He didn't have a mask--didn't apologize for lacking a mask--but this seemed to be a bad time to hop on a public-health soap-box. ("Sure, I died of Covid--but at least I didn't offend anyone! ") We all climbed into the cab of a tow-truck, and as we drove along, my new friend gave a speech about his health problems, and about the advantages of savvy gambling. "I made a pile that weekend, and let's just say my winnings were helpful with my ex-wife....

  I've spent several weeks practicing and thinking about the Scholastic Aptitude Test. It's not what you remember. The analogies are gone. The quantitative comparisons are gone. The SAT has many, many pages of sentence-correction work. The math section will likely ask you about the polynomial remainder theorem. For reading comprehension, you might encounter Saki or Virginia Woolf or FDR. (And the writing will be really excellent!) I think the SAT is generally very well-produced; I think the Kaplan fake versions of the SAT are less impressive. (One recent Kaplan faux-test sentence-fixing section asked the students to choose between "making saccharine commercially" and "producing saccharine commercially." I'd argue that either choice is fine--and, even if you believe there is a real distinction here, I'd challenge you to claim that the distinction is worthy of an SAT question. This makes my head spin.) I think the SAT is a source of terror for some peo

  "No Body, No Crime" is a buzzy new Taylor Swift song, and it's a "Country Western murder mystery." It's about a man who murders his wife so he can be with his mistress. But the speaker--a family friend--seeks revenge. She murders the man, and she subtly frames the mistress for the killing. The first part of this setup does actually happen in the world: Think of Chris Watts or Scott Peterson. But we're probably not meant to dwell on this fact. I'm obsessed with a few things, such as Taylor's sense of parallelism and writerly economy: "Este's a friend of mine; we meet up every Tuesday for some dinner and a glass of wine. Este's been losing sleep....Her husband's acting different, and it smells like infidelity..." I'm also hooked on the strange, relentless DETAILS: the Olive Garden, the changed tires, the housecleaning history, the boating license (!) .....the life insurance policy....the change in living arrangements....

  In times of great stress, it's useful to turn to George and Martha, and I'd just like to spotlight--here--my favorite "Martha image." This is in "The Special Gift," and it's the moment Martha decides to visit a bookstore in honor of George's birthday. (George is *always* reading literature.) It's very rare to see a non-hippo character in a George/Martha work, and here we're treated to the crocodile bookseller. And he is delightful; he wraps George's gift in yellow ribbon with pink polka dots, which seems to be a perfect choice. (The book will then make its way to Martha's picnic basket.) The shop itself is clearly a used-book affair; it's not Barnes and Noble, but Tim's Used Books, in Provincetown. A light with exposed wiring hangs over the room. The books are not alphabetized; they pretty clearly reflect Marshall's own obsessions, and they're generally works of humor (books by Tomi Ungerer, Ivy Compton-Burnett, Jane

 The novelist Maile Meloy has a useful recipe for living through the Trump era: detective fiction. Meloy writes: "Detective stories are about the fantasy of exposing and containing evil. The villains lie shamelessly, the brilliant detective catches them in their lies, and justice is done. Nothing, these days, is more satisfying than that." When you read "Original Sin," you can imagine the killer you're pursuing is Donald Trump--and you can expect, with certainty, that Trump will "go down." Meloy recommends the following mystery writers: John le Carre (the first two novels), Philip Pullman (Sally Lockhart), and Kate Atkinson ("Case Histories"). I have my stable (Rankin, Rendell, PD James, Leon, McDermid, Lehane, Connelly), but I'll add: Ed McBain, Ann Cleeves, and the fun, frothy Carrie Bradshaw-ish murder tales of Hendricks/Pekkanen. These are "getting me through." P.S. Hughes, Mina, Abbott, McManus, Waters, Paretsky, Silva, Cob

My son is facing new frontiers. He will now stand, very briefly, without a prop. If he has the walker, he'll run across the house, shrieking: "E I E I O!!!!!" I think all of this is evidence of genius, and of course I'm incapable of discussing literally anything else. Our books this week: *"Noisy Nora," by Rosemary Wells. (Wells is subtly name-dropped in a "George and Martha" story, along with Jane Austen, William Steig, and a few others. I take this to be a sign that Wells had James Marshall's approval.) *"Arthur and the Big Snow." Marc Brown is under-valued; this is an elegant story about sibling tension, and it's wrapped in an ode to winter and snow. *"Shivers." This is Frog and Toad, and it's a story within a story. A tale of horror! Pay close attention to the jump-rope..... Happy reading to you.

 One thing to celebrate this week is Georgia, and so some people's thoughts are turning to "Georgia on My Mind": Georgia, Georgia.... The whole day through.... Just an old sweet song keeps Georgia on my mind.... Hoagy Carmichael wrote this with his roommate, and though rumors have stated the song is for a *person* named Georgia, the real inspiration seems to be the Southern state. Someone asked a friend to write a song about Georgia, and that person joked: "The first two words could be GEORGIA! GEORGIA!" ....And the rest is history. Each day, Georgia.... A song of you.... Comes as sweet and clear as moonlight through the pines.... Now we're getting fancy. The speaker uses a simile to show his love--the state of Georgia--just what is happening in his heart. A climax: The rule of threes. Other arms reach out to me.... Other eyes smile tenderly.... Still, in peaceful dreams, I see The road leads back to you, my beautiful Georgia... And a strange, bittersweet en

That day the four of them went to the library, though at different times. The library assistant, if he had noticed them at all, would have seen them as people who belonged together in some way. They each in turn noticed him, with his shoulder-length golden hair. Their disparaging comments on its length, its luxuriance, its general unsuitability -- given the job and the circumstances -- were no doubt reflections on the shortcomings of their own hair. Edwin wore his, which was thin, greying, and bald on top, in a sort of bob..... This is the opening of Barbara Pym's masterpiece, "Quartet in Autumn." Pym had been a major novelist who had fallen off the public's radar; she had gone unpublished for approximately fifteen years. But she wrote "Quartet" for fun, for her own amusement, and it then almost-randomly attracted an editor--and Philip Larkin and John Updike and the Booker Prize people hopped on-board....and the rest is history. "Quartet in Autumn"

 My husband and I very much liked "The Assistant." In case you missed this, it's the story of a recent Northwestern grad who goes to work for Harvey Weinstein, or someone like Harvey Weinstein. (We never see the boss onscreen.) The assistant has brains, and she knows something is wrong. People make jokes about Weinstein's gross casting couch--which is, literally, a gross couch, a few feet away from a big desk. If you stop by HR, you might overhear someone murmuring: "They have nothing....They really don't have a case...." You might hear this *quite a bit* ..... Also, Weinstein feels free to berate people in public: "You're a joke. You're the dumbest one I've hired. I thought the last one was dumb, but my God...." All of this is gripping and unnerving to watch, but I liked even more the *very subtle* ways in which a secretary is abused: how powerful people will use a secretary as an object of aggression, so the powerful people don

 I've just started "Group," a buzzy memoir about group therapy. Reese Witherspoon selected this as a Book of the Moment, and you can easily see why; in its toughness and its humor, "Group" resembles a major Witherspoon project, the movie "Wild." In "Group," our heroine, Christie Tate, discovers that she is first in her law-school class; almost immediately afterward, she catches herself wishing to die. She wishes someone would pull up and put a bullet in her brain. This is a compelling opening, and it's surely something most of us can relate to: a gap between an apparently sunny reality and a sordid "inner reality." (Whose Facebook page actually gives an accurate picture of daily life? Who among us has that Facebook page? Anyone? .....Anyone?) Tate speaks with a friend, who recommends a shrink, who recommends group therapy. And that's the setup for the book. Within a few weeks, Tate is speaking frankly about her struggles wit