Liars and Saints

 She was a Maplewood Mom, and she wanted to complain about our schools. Many other Moms pounced. "You want to go after our over-worked school employees? Martyrs--every one of them!" This became a kind of rallying cry: "LET'S HEAR IT FOR SCHOOL-WORKERS! LET'S  GIVE IT UP  FOR THE MAPLEWOOD EDUCATORS!!!!" "My child's teacher is THE BEST!!!!!" "Oh my God, Ms. F-- at Jefferson is LITERALLY a saint!" (Curiously, school-workers seemed not to see these fulsome messages--or seemed to greet the messages with silence.) Then someone wrote in search of a budding entrepreneur who could make a "smash cake."  The "official" local baker wouldn't accept the task.  But then *another* Mom said that the local baker *would* construct a smash cake--on the down-low. You won't see the service listed on the bakery website. However....if you ask nicely..... And I found myself Googling "smash cake." This is my life.....

 I'm always eager to find a new voice; at the same time, I can be demanding, so then my reading world becomes a little echo chamber, a home *only* for Ruth Rendell and Anne Tyler. "Good Company"--a splashy new novel by Cynthia D'Aprix Sweeney--has at least a few memorable characters. There is Margot, who has a prominent role on a long-running "ER"-ish show, and whose character must die "for ratings reasons." Margot sort of likes fame, but she hates having to sanitize her past, in interviews, and she doesn't love when the bossy costume-designer hovers near the snack table. ("You're having bread AND pasta salad.....?") Margot complains about paparazzi, but also, if no one is noticing her in a crowd, she might dramatically drop her handbag as a way of calling attention to herself. Margot's good friend Flora has had less success in the performance world, and she decides to give up when she finds herself bored in the chorus of Broa

 Many are writing about Jennifer Holliday (Tony Awards, 2021).  "She sounds great." "That was a Judy Garland-level transaction between singer and audience." "That was an actual performance, not just two celebrities looking happy to reunite and sing an abridged ditty from 2002...." But what happens in Holliday's big song? The speaker learns that her dude is leaving her. Though there is ample evidence to the contrary, the speaker says, "You're the best man I've ever known!" She won't go. She appeals to history: "We're part of the same place....We both have the same blood, same mind...." The speaker puts her own weakness on the table: "I don't wanna be free." Everything builds to a simple, direct, explosive bridge: "Tear down the mountains. Yell, scream, and shout. You can say what you want. I'm not walking out...." In the actual Broadway production, Effie falls to her knees, and as she sobs,

 My admiration for "SVU" only grows. This past week, we had a two-hour marathon, and it gave us so much. It gave us "The Good Wife"'s Ben Rappaport as a smarmy Cuomo-esque politician. It gave us the greasy guy from "Billions" as a greasy guy a bit further uptown. We had the theater world's Maddie Corman as a quietly calculating mom-in-peril. Let's recap. There is a human-trafficking ring; Ben Rappaport is caught, but imagines he can just silence the witnesses. Several people die "in suspicious circumstances." Ben Rappaport evades serious consequences by turning in his lawyer, and the lawyer seems to evade consequences by offering to turn in "an ex-president" (surely a reference to Donald Trump). To make the case against Trump, or Trump's people, Olivia's team needs to locate one teen victim. But the victim's father won't cooperate; he is an unpleasant man who repeatedly undermines his wife (a nice, classic SV

  We meet all sorts in our neighborhood. Here's what I have little patience for. My frenemy is extremely sweet, but he has children who are the ages of my children, and there is a weird undercurrent of competition. My frenemy says: "We have three weddings to attend this year, and fortunately we've found babysitting coverage so we can make every single one." Also: "We have a free live-in nanny. She is the mother of my bestie, and she has been alone for several months. She actually thanks *us* for the privilege of caring for the infant. She says she is laughing for the first time in eons....." I don't really know how to respond to this sort of thing. I say "GREAT!" and I imagine digging my claws into this guy's neck. That's my life, for now.

  Great characters make a story. "Tim All Alone," a famous picture book, has little Tim returning home from a sea voyage. But his parents are gone! The house is empty; a sign says, "For Rent." A nightmare begins. Tim--convinced that his family is alive--returns to the high seas for a search mission. A benevolent captain gives him jobs, so that he is "too busy to feel sad." But the ship explodes; a matron briefly kidnaps Tim; a new, mean captain treats Tim as an enslaved person. At his lowest point, Tim finds comfort in the company of a small black cat. This book is a bit old-fashioned; the writer doesn't hesitate to point out that good things grow from Tim's courtesy and pluckiness. I don't mind the homily. I'm just a fan of the twists and turns, and a fan of the lively illustrations. Edward Ardizzone wrote, and wrote, and wrote--and drew and drew--and he counted Maurice Sendak among his many admirers.

 My son is beginning to talk! It's a treat. He has something like his own language, which is half-English and half-Martian. ZEEEEE! means "Susie." HEEEEHHHHHHH is "head." And BABA seems to be "bottle." The greatest thrill is "Hi" and "OK." Josh has mastered these words, but he doesn't know when to use them, so he spends a big part of any day just shouting HIII! at the Venetian blinds. "HIII! Ohhhh-KAAAAY!!!" I'm reading many adult novels out loud--because Josh doesn't really pay attention, and I'm just hoping some osmosis is occurring. But you can bet we'll purchase "A House," by Kevin Henkes, upon its release, in one week. I'm including some small works of art that Henkes has been studying--here, with the text. Can't wait for Tuesday.

  In this house, we love "Sex and the City," and we particularly love Stanford Blatch, and it's such a shame to see that the actor Willie Garson is now dead. My husband's favorite SATC--and it's among my top five--is "The Real Me," from Season Four. In this one, Carrie is "dressed to the nines at Brasserie 8-and-a-Half....at the corner of Right Now and Everyone's Here." Stanford complains that no attractive man will date him, and Carrie says, "Then gay men can't see what I see." Carrie tries to pair Stanford with Anthony--she says Stanford is "like Ed Harris"--and the match is disastrous. Later, Carrie trips on a Dior runway, and Stanford worries that she is "fashion roadkill." But Carrie dusts herself off and keeps walking--and laughs at her own error. The world sings along to Cheryl Lynn's "Got to Be Real." I can't believe Willie Garson was actually not gay, but I thank him for his contr

  It's interesting to be a former teacher in the (current) role of a parent. Parents: There is one thing that teachers surely do. Those teachers roll their eyes about you when you try to use general-meeting time for an in-depth discussion of your child. It is a truth universally acknowledged that a parent will see the words "curriculum night" and interpret them to mean: "Everyone gathers to analyze the socioemotional development of my little Oliver (or Hayes or Savannah)." Even though I *knew* this, I knew it in my bones, I nevertheless wanted to transgress last week. I wanted to grill two teachers on my child, who had spent a grand total of three hours at school. My husband took a healthier approach to all of this. He half-listened to the tour, and he spent part of his time on his phone, reviewing photos of Lupita Nyong'o's gown from the Met Gala. There was also Nicki Minaj to discuss--and the famous "testicles" remark. I held my tongue about

  Tipping a hat to Quentin Blake, who made Matilda, and the Witches, and the BFG. I'd argue these characters are "Blake creations"--just as much as they are Roald Dahl creations. Blake says, if you're making art, you should "lose your inhibitions, and actually get to know your characters." He says: "Don't be precious. If an idea isn't working, change the idea." This seems to be good advice not just for drawing, but also for life. Herewith: a gallery of greats.

 Two characters that stuck with me this week: Karen Donato and "Graham," in "Worth." "Worth" is the story of the 9/11 Victims' Compensation Fund. Think of the mess. Dividing the estate becomes a fraught subject even in small families. After 9/11, lawyers had to figure out how to compensate many, many families--with victims from varied socioeconomic backgrounds, victims with varied jobs. The movie feels a bit like a reprise of "Spotlight": Once again, Michael Keaton is the star, and once again, Stanley Tucci is the moral compass. Tucci plays an actual person, a man enraged by the early calculations of "the fund." Tucci designs a site--"Fix the Fund"--and insists that Keaton must turn off his opera CDs, must begin to listen to the victims. Karen Donato is a "composite victim." We see her on the morning of 9/11; her husband, a firefighter, neglects to kiss her, and this seems "charged." After the tragedy,

 Our TV life seems to have three planes, these days. Plane One: Uneven crime dramas. I found "The Fall" occasionally exasperating, though I liked Gillian Anderson. "Tommy" gives us Edie Falco, but the screenwriters seem to have mistaken their assignment for a job writing Hallmark cards. Plane Two: "Better Things." Both Marc and I feel awe for this show. A recent episode was a highpoint: One child seems to be flirting with the idea of coming out as transgender, though the process is messy and mysterious, and not at all like an after-school special. In another part of the house, Sam Fox attempts clandestine sexting while using her spare hand to fill her daughter's lunch-box with Fritos. There is also some stunning advice, from an adult to a teen: "Los Angeles is full of guys I've blown. You just have to charge through the next cafe encounter, wear a smile. Otherwise, you'll find you just stop leaving your house." Plane Three: Kennedy Ce

 Tipping a hat to Edward Ardizzone, who ranks among the great picture-book-makers of the twentieth century. Ardizzone wrote about Tim, a small boy who has adventures on the sea. Often, Tim's bravery and intelligence are rewarded; often, the imperiousness and thoughtless acts of "Ginger," a local rake, become serious problems for everyone in Ardizzone's fictional village. Ardizzone knew what kids like: pastries, scruffy dogs, portly sea-faring eccentrics (featured here). They don't make 'em like this anymore.

  As Broadway and Off-Broadway spaces start to re-open, my heart is with "Little Shop of Horrors," which I think is history's most-perfect musical. I would not have drafted Jeremy Jordan for the lead; I would have lobbied for Adam Chanler-Berat. (My two cents.) Howard Ashman had his tongue in his cheek, but he also had a sense of wonder, and the wonder/cynicism push-pull made his work so special. Also, Ashman just had fun: One day he pushed a broom.... Nothing in his news but gloom and doom... Then he lit a fuse and-- Give him room-- STAND ASIDE AND WATCH THAT MOTHA BLOW! Explosion! Bang! Kerboom! Don't it go to show ya never know? I wish I could be in New York for the return of this great musical.

  Before you have children, no one tells you about the straw. The straw, the straw. This is the sort of thing that eats up your days. A child of two "should" be able to drink from a straw. There are consequences to straw-delay. Your child may develop an overbite, then a need for orthodontia. Virtuous behavior now--right now--means that you may save yourself from later office visits, later bills. You begin to study your child's teeth obsessively; you study the smiley photos, you look for clues.  Can I find my own future in this sunny photo from the beach? The speech therapist recommends a bear-shaped vessel with a straw attached; it's cute! But your dog eats the vessel, right after your child throws it--with fury--to the floor. You buy a second bear-vessel. Your child shrieks and throws the bear--again. Your dog eats the (second) bear, and then this process stops. An obvious solution would be to store the bear up high, but in the battle to keep the gates closed, the bl

  Tomi Ungerer enjoyed "the extraordinary journey," and here are two examples: (1) Rufus, a little bat, stumbles on a technicolor drive-in movie, and decides to will himself to give up his own nocturnal ways. (2) The Man in the Moon grabs the tail of a comet so that he may travel to Earth. Maybe the strangest journey Ungerer invented came about in the late nineties. Ungerer was reflecting on his childhood, a brutal period during World War II, when he would sometimes sleep on piles of coal. How do you describe WWII to kids? You use the perspective of a talking teddy bear. The book contains one of my favorite opening lines: "I knew I was old when I found myself in the window of an antique shop." From there, Otto the bear flashes backward. He recalls his early years in the possession of a German boy; all lives are upended when the Nazis seize power. The boy is sent to a concentration camp; his friend takes Otto, but must abandon Otto during a bombing (Dresden?) ..... A

 For me, parenthood means watching many clips of old Kristin Chenoweth interviews. As much as I love Chenoweth's work, I have a feeling she might be a craven narcissist. I wasn't cheered when I saw Chenoweth on "The View." The Broadway star began talking about vaccines. "Yes, I did a spot in favor of Covid vaccines; I'm happy to be vaccinated." KC seemed to plunge right into her next thought. "I have friends who are vaxxers. I have friends who are anti-vaxxers. We just agree not to GO THERE. It's all good....." Elsewhere, Chenoweth is clearly so bright. I hope she reflects, pulls herself together, and apologizes to America. In the meantime, here is a cartoon that I like.

  A novel I really loved this summer was "Morningside Heights," by Joshua Henkin. Alzheimer's disease occupies so much space in the world of storytelling: "Still Alice," "What They Had," "The Father," "Iris," "The Iron Lady," "Away from Her," "The Bear Came over the Mountain," "We Are Not Ourselves," "Rise of the Planet of the Apes," the Uncle Junior portions of "The Sopranos." "The Savages." Amy Bloom's upcoming memoir, "In Love." But I think the subject is inexhaustible. It's interesting to see how people behave in extremis. How could we ever reach "an end" in looking at, and thinking about, this behavior? "Morningside Heights" features a woman, Pru, who marries a Shakespeare star. The star is sort of like a young Harold Bloom, climbing the rungs within an Ivy League institution--but, early on, his mind starts to give up. Pr

  A friend recently noticed that Tomie dePaola is "in the air." Kevin Henkes has a new book arriving in a few weeks--and it contains the first direct dePaola homage that I know of. As my friend observed, Henkes includes an image of a house that is very clearly "ripped from the pages" of dePaola. Often, dePaola was writing "coming-out" stories just underneath the actual text that he was producing. A boy is told he must do certain things to get along, and he tries in a halfhearted way, and finally he decides just to be himself--and the world adapts. That's the story of "Oliver Button Is a Sissy": Oliver turns his back on football to become Gloria Swanson, in the spotlight. (Oliver doesn't win his Talent Show, but an admirer leaves him with some graffiti: "Oliver Button Is a Star.") In "The Art Lesson," little Tommy can't tolerate his oppressive nun-guardians. The nuns want Tommy to trace paper turkeys during art clas

  The Maplewood Moms are often in the midst of a civil war. Facebook becomes Gettysburg. For example, recently, some moms* felt angry at the public schools. After Ida, the schools didn't act fast enough to announce cancellation plans. Given many months of COVID, it's not surprising that several moms* feel anxious about new school-cancellations. But other moms* said: "People died in this storm. Let's not be whiny and entitled." Nothing grows out of this sort of conversation. On the other hand, here is my favorite recent mom* post. One person wrote: "My own mother just moved to a house within a ten-minute radius of mine. Can you please complain about your own mother for me? Or about your mother-in-law? This would be therapeutic." And the moms* chimed in. "I was still in the natal recovery wing when my mother-in-law (MIL) gave me a birthday present. It was an abs cruncher." Elsewhere: "I had three children under four years of age. My mother c

  Being married to me means watching each and every "Wicked" promotional concert, as these concerts occur on PBS. "Wicked" is the "Les Miz" of 2021: You just can't kill it. The newest PBS "Wicked" concert was especially boring; Idina and Kristin couldn't be bothered to appear in one room together, and neither performed a song. Instead, you saw the two reading bits of a synopsis from cue-cards: The plot of this show is always baffling, and it's particularly baffling when Kristin Chenoweth tries to re-package it for you in long, unpoetic mini-book-reports. My husband tried hard to keep himself interested. "Did Stephen Schwartz *really* write 'Pocahontas'--?" he asked. And: "What does *Sutton Foster* say about 'Wicked'--?" I appreciated this. On the screen, Chenoweth was murmuring about betrayal and character growth, and about friends saying goodbye. I think she also talked about the wonders of PBS, ho

  Celebrating Garth Williams today. Williams was an illustrator whose genius shaped the way we all see "Little House" and "Charlotte's Web." Williams was also a New York City baby, so I'm not sure how he managed to "channel the Plains" so effectively. In any case, the wonder and joy and talent -- they're all there for you, on the page, over and over and over again. Forever. Hats off.....

 I guess, in the 1940s, it was common to depict docile, obedient children in picture books. Then Robert McCloskey had an idea. His "Sal"--a character who grew out of McCloskey's reflections on his own daughter--can't really control herself. She goes berry-picking, but she doesn't understand how anyone saves berries for the winter. She eats all her berries right away. As Sal's appetite grows, Sal finds herself reaching into her *mother's* pail, and taking an enormous clump of berries. ("She really hadn't meant to....but each berry was so small....and so close to all the other berries....") We last see Sal "helping" with the canning process: Sal's overalls are too loose, her hair flies in all directions, and she stands on a rickety chair, throwing little metal rings on the floor. I think Sal is the literary "godmother" of Max (Sendak), Ramona, and the naughty mice in the works of Kevin Henkes (Lilly, Sheila Rae). I'm

  A tip of the hat to Robert McCloskey, who made "Make Way for Ducklings," one of the most-beloved books in American history. McCloskey called himself "an artist first, not a writer of stories," and this is clear in "Ducklings." As others have noted, the story doesn't make sense. A pair of ducklings visit the Public Garden in Boston, but scary bicycles make this area unlivable. The ducks wind up on an island in the Charles--and yet, inexplicably, they travel to the Public Garden AGAIN. This time, the Garden is not in any way safer, but that's that. The ducks decide to stay in the Garden. I love this book for two reasons. One is the use of close third-person narration. The writer knows that bikes are bikes, not "things," and that the ornamental swan on a tourist boat can't actually communicate. But the duck-protagonists are unaware. It's fun to see Boston through a duck's eyes. Two: As a critic noticed, McCloskey-the-artist use

  One of Tomi Ungerer's main preoccupations was the moon; that strange rock has a big role in "Fog Island" (2013), and, in Ungerer's final book, that rock is the spot where everyone lands once the polluted Earth explodes. Much earlier in his career, in the sixties, Ungerer imagined a "Moon Man" who grabs the tail of a comet and comes to visit humankind.  People with pitchforks surround the fallen comet; a fireman arrives; an ice-cream vendor parks his truck near the swarming spectators. Experts toss the Moon Man in jail, so that he might undergo some examinations. But MM's body shrinks with the waning of the actual moon; and, in his fractional garb, he is able to slither through the bars of his prison-window. Eventually, MM discovers a scientist who has built a rocket to send to the moon; the scientist *would* use the rocket, but he has grown too rotund to fit into the capsule. MM solves this problem (when he matches the slender half-moon). MM takes the