Liars and Saints

  One part of the true-crime world focuses on the incompetence of investigators; the gold standard, for this kind of reporting, is "In the Dark." The new podcast "Dead End," about terrible errors in the attempted "solving" of the NJ murder of John Sheridan, is a similar work. (Though it's quite clear that Sheridan was murdered, his file still says "CAUSE OF DEATH - UNCERTAIN," and this is just the start of the problem.) The book of the summer is (I think) "Trailed," about a new kind of sloppiness, the sloppiness of national-park authorities. Every year, the majority of murder victims in the world are men -- but if you focus on national parks, then the majority are women. Women are targeted, trailed, assaulted, and murdered in U.S. parks, and then people fail to notice the stories. (Kathryn Miles, a journalist, wonders, "If you learned that three women per year were murdered at Disney World, would you reconsider your trip to Dis

  No one asked for this, but I compiled my "ABCs of Broadway"; below are shows I'd like my children to know, and know well, before they reach adulthood.  (Generally, the musicals aren't perfect, but they all show evidence of life; these musicals, unlike many others, were products of writers who had working brains and beating hearts.) As I drafted this list, I loved considering the career of Stephen Sondheim, who is in a class of his own (according to the world, and to Paul Simon, who wrote about Sondheim in the Times a few years ago). One of many things I admire about Sondheim is that he reinvented himself after his mid-life crisis, and his Sec ond Act included "Sunday in the Park with George" and "Into the Woods." Sondheim worried that people past their fifties did not generally write great musicals. I think "Assassins" and "Passion" are not first-rate Sondheim, but, still, they're notable! (Think of "The Gun Song,&quo

 My frenemy upstaged me. His child had a birthday bouncy castle and a crafting station. Each guest received an animal mask, matching figurine, and small plastic ring with rhinestones. Speakers were concealed in the bushes, and old Fergie hits filled the air. Also, you could enter the house; you didn't have to remain on the lawn. And the house was orderly; it was not, for example, a big dump site, cluttered with infant toothpaste, candles, wet swim trunks, "Pat the Bunny," packs of XYZal, Tums, chapsticks, baby lotion, poop bags, empty seltzer cans, Tide pens, dented unused greeting cards, broken remote controls, sunscreen, plastic dolphin toys, and dirty tennis balls. And that's fine. It was all great. I'm doing fine. We're reading Chris van Dusen. As a storyteller, he is uninspired...but he gets excited about alliteration and internal rhyme, and he considers the peeling paint on individual houses, as he draws. So he is at least slightly re-readable. We're

  The great thing about Stephen King is his interest in families--and the same applies to his son, Joe Hill. Hill's story (now a movie), "The Black Phone," concerns two children and their problematic dad. Mom has offed herself; Dad drinks all the time, and he has a short temper. In one especially brilliant moment, the little girl tells her brother, "It's Friday. I'm going to a sleepover." And the little boy shrugs and says, "Right. I'll take care of Dad." Small details stick in your memory. The boy tips the father's beer bottle so it's right-side-up; this seems to be automatic, as in: the gesture is now just wired into the boy's muscles. A little girl endures a beating when she knows she is right; she tolerates the pain and says "the correct thing," and everyone is mortified to sit through the father's display of weakness for several minutes. Finally, one sibling urges another to go up and talk to an appealing girl

  In 2019, Alexander Payne's "Election" turned twenty years old, and it seemed to become a new movie. For a long while, Tracy Flick had appeared villainous. This reading of the movie centers on Tracy's destruction of opponents' posters. She interferes with others' property, then lies; she allows an innocent person to take the hit. Also, she is a Republican. Finally, and obnoxiously, she thinks she is better than the students around her. The new reading of Tracy Flick sort of ignores these events. It focuses on the fact that Tracy is groomed and violated by a middle-aged teacher. Next, the teacher's friend throws an election to ruin Tracy's dream. In one of many brilliant depictions of petty meaniness, Payne has the teacher avoiding Tracy's raised hand, just because he doesn't want to hear her voice in civics class. I think neither reading is entirely satisfying. Tracy isn't a villain--but this doesn't mean she lacks villainous qualities

  When you ask me which child is biologically "mine...."  This is not a question that I love to field. I don't love it because I think it has a subtle implication, i.e., the child without the genetic link is somehow less "mine." (I'm being too sensitive? You're right. I'm sure you're right.) If you ask me the question at a party, then you quickly drift away, I feel a bit like a circus show. I feel I've swallowed my sword, and you've extracted your moment of entertainment, and you're ready to move on. To the old woman who honked her horn at my children and me as we crossed in a marked pedestrian crosswalk : I really hope you arrived at your destination on time. Please continue to alarm small children with your car horn, especially if it means you will then be able to catch all the previews at the Montclair matinee screening of "Jurassic World." To my child's amateur nutritionist:  I know you think that vegan mushroom-base

 I just rewatched "The Night House," which has an excellent Rebecca Hall front and center. (When people talk about Hall, they use the epithet "always outstanding," and here is a case where I'm part of the hive mind.) In this movie, Hall's husband has just murdered himself. Hall is full of rage, but she insists on going back to the high school where she teaches. A mother comes in to complain about her child's grade. "Who's your kid?" says Hall. "Hunter Y? Hunter Y. It's just that I have so many Hunters...." The mother is taken aback. "How many Hunters?" And Hall--clearly lying--says: "Three." The mother makes her case, and Rebecca Hall grows bored. "I see," she says. "All this happened on the last day of school. I was out because my husband had shot himself. In the brain. With a gun. I didn't even know we owned the gun!" The mother grows uncomfortable. "Anyway," says Hall. &

  My husband says, "How can there not be alcohol at these parties?" And it's a fair question. A kid-centric party is onerous; children all around us are literally hurling themselves at walls, at foam-coated rocking chairs, at ladders. Ice packs emerge, and more ice packs. More than once, an adult murmurs the words:  Lord of the Flies . A frosty beer is useful in the calmest setting; it seems, at a "childs' gym," frosty beers should be mandatory. There is already something sadomasochistic about spending your Saturday at this gym. And to do it sober??? "We'll have a song," says the young gay man upstage; he's the master of ceremonies. I imagine him back at Carnegie Mellon, planning for his Broadway debut.  What happens to a dream deferred ? "A song," he repeats. "Five little ducks went out one day...." "I'm noticing something," my husband whispers. "I notice that all the other parents have left their spo

  Christian Robinson draws inspiration from Matisse and Jacob Lawrence, Tomi Ungerer, Leo Lionni, Ezra Jack Keats, among others. Robinson says he especially likes picture-book art from the fifties through seventies, and he values any artist who has a distinct point of view. In other words, beauty is nice, but if you can create a bird that resembles no other artist's bird, that's maybe even better. I can't find any Robinson comments on Eric Carle, but I think of the two together because (1) they love animals, and (2) they love paper collage. Carle and Robinson also both speak warmly about Matisse. I'm pasting three Robinson images here, along with one iconic Carle cover. Robinson's newest work--which will accompany the text for "Smallest Girl in the Smallest Grade"--can be seen in bookstores next month (July). P.S. I spoke too soon. "Smallest Girl" is actually an old release. I'm keeping an eye on the possibility of a new Robinson, and will wr

 Here are three things I absorbed, or tried to absorb, about parenting this year: (1) Perspective-taking. If your child suddenly decides he dislikes mac and cheese, it's maybe not great to say  NO! You LOVE mac and cheese!  Surely you've had a mood so black that even a previously delightful thing--like a Barbara Pym novel--becomes, suddenly, odious? One thing to consider saying is:  Ah, you dislike mac and cheese? That's interesting. Tell me more about that.... (2)  A tantrum is like a fire, but a big response can be like more gasoline.  You think your response is water to extinguish the fire, but really you're just adding to the fuel. (3)  Probably the best voice to use with a kid is a whisper.  I personally like when another human uses a soft voice. Imagine being tiny: Many, many adults must sound like braying Donald Trumps! This has been eye-opening for me. I borrowed these ideas from "Raising Raffi," by Keith Gessen, a book I loved.

  It's been said that gayness is the ability to mock and revere one thing -- to mock AND revere, in one breath. And so I give you the Nicole Kidman Little Golden Book -- "Nicole, from Ohr to Nor!" I love this string of Tweets, first because it teaches: (1) Kidman was once overtaken by a bike, (2) Kidman has a cameo in "Panic Room," and (3) Virginia Woolf's final swim was in the River Ouse. I also think that the opening couplet is a work of art: A is for ACCENTS....which one will we hear? B....BOY Erased....my son is a queer! I admire the specificity throughout. https://twitter.com/KevinJZak/status/1537853485642825736

  David Sedaris doesn't care whether we like him -- and this sense of indifference is his superpower. Sedaris is repelled by certain pandemic-era behaviors. If you use the word "heroes," "hunker-down," "new normal," then you're disinvited from a Sedaris dinner party. Also, Sedaris thinks it's absurd that people are angry that Ellen DeGeneres lives in a mansion. Do you know who bought that mansion? You did, when you supported "Finding Nemo." Bluntly, Sedaris recalls visiting a white movie star many years ago. A Black woman was dishing out the meal. "You make her work so late?" asked Sedaris. And the movie star said, "She's not my employee. She's my wife." This level of honesty is impressive to me. It's more impressive than Anna Kendrick appearing on "Colbert," announcing that she spent the weekend watching the documentary "13th," so she could educate herself. Finally, and boldly, Seda

 A strange thing about having children is that you're conscripted for various birthday parties, and you know no one at the parties, and there are no shared interests; you are simply with other people who have small children. Conversational topics include: "Look, he's getting so big!" Also: "Our local zoo--isn't that place fabulous?" You yourself might want to say: "Did anyone see the new indie horror film? The one where he slits her throat....and you think she's dead....but next..." It's a great relief, then, that I have Vanya, who lives five minutes from me. Vanya is Russian-by-way-of-Staten-Island, and she seems to find me anytime we happen to be on one lawn together. "This child," she says. "It's a full-time job. His Kindergarten teacher calls and whines,  Your son violated Harper's space with his body.  And I say,  My son, he is five. He does not know that he *has* a body. Can you speak in English ?" Vany

"Caps for Sale" has been in print for around 75 years, and it's a subversive masterpiece. The adult, the central character, is a fool. He sells hats, but he stores them by stacking them in a long, skinny tower on top of his own head. When the peddler goes to sleep, in a forest, monkeys descend and steal all the hats. The peddler wakes up. He discovers the problem. He tries to use strong language with the monkeys. They simply repeat his words back to him. Finally, in frustration, the peddler tosses his one remaining hat to the  ground. Having been trained to "ape" the peddler, the monkeys now relinquish all their hats. I love the colorful illustrations, and I really love that no one learns anything in this book. The events are random and chaotic, just as in actual life. The writer, Slobodkina, emigrated from Russia, after the Revolution of 1917 made things unstable for her Jewish family. She is cited for having "pulled together imagery and objects into magni

 I made several miscalculations while planning my child's school year. Number one: I had him going in on Wednesdays and Fridays. This means, from every Saturday to Tuesday span, he could forget the rigors of education, and get into a different routine, and basically become a non-student. Then, every Wednesday morning: a nightmare scenario.  I have to do THIS again??? My error. Also, I think, twice, I sent Josh to school in shorts whose waistbands were too "generous." When I arrived in the afternoon, the teacher took a deep breath and said, "Joshie's pants fell down." I have worked with children; I can imagine that billowy pants are not something you want on your agenda as you paint, and corral, and unpack, and soothe, and clean. I think the pants scenario is good for a post on the site  Am *I* the asshole ? And I know the answer. I know it in my heart. Finally, I erred in thinking my child might have a bad time. Yes, transitions were difficult, but in the af

 One kind of Hitchcock film rejects "the omniscient narrator": We're stuck with the mind of our protagonist, who may or may not be right to think that a supporting character is acting in a sketchy way. This is the trick in "Rear Window," and in "Suspicion." Is our neighbor awake at 3 AM because he is trying (covertly) to bury the corpse of his wife? Or is he awake just because he is awake? A new movie, "Watcher," seems to borrow from Hitchcock. An American woman moves to Romania because her husband has found a job. A killer is on the loose--"the Spider"--and our heroine starts to think that she has unmasked the Spider by chance, against her own will. Our heroine's well-intentioned husband is skeptical; and, at times, our heroine herself is skeptical. Does a guy sit deliberately, directly behind our heroine (the setting is a screening of "Charade")? Is this an intimidation tactic? Or is one particular seat just really d

 "Top Gun: Maverick" is essentially "A Chorus Line," with planes. In "A Chorus Line," the dancers all really need a job. ("God, I hope I get it!") Some dancers view life in a comic way. ("I'm watching sis go pitter pat...." "Tits and ass....can change your life....") Others are a bit grander, even a bit tragic. ("Kiss the day goodbye....and point me toward tomorrow....") The center-stage candidate is Cassie, and she has history with the choreographer, and she is perhaps a bit too old. Also, her style is off. She pops her shoulders too much. But she wants work!  God, I'm a dancer.....a dancer dances! In "Top Gun: Maverick," Tom Cruise is the choreographer, and Miles Teller is Cassie. Further evidence that this film was made for gay men? The young cast plays shirtless "dogfight football" while also shimmying to the beats of One Republic. I'd just like to make one observation here. I can&

 It's a great treat to have a nemesis, and mine is the secretary at my child's pediatrics office. Her name is D'Nette. For the purposes of this post, I could change her name. But I haven't. Her name is D'Nette. D'Nette hates her job, and perhaps she is underpaid. The evidence: You can write to her, and she simply won't respond. If the office drops an important ball for a full week, D'Nette might finally murmur, "The doctor is aware, and she'll get to your issue when she can." This really takes my breath away. D'Nette *is* able to rouse herself for one reason. If someone holds the door for you, so you miss the sign that says, "STAY OUTSIDE UNTIL YOU MAKE PHONE CONTACT WITH A NURSE," D'Nette has a meltdown. You may be masked, you may observe the six-feet rule, but if you have failed to exercise superhuman powers of X-Ray Vision, and you have failed to notice an invisible sign, then you're in trouble. I could leave this o

 A friend of mine would prefer a "loss" for Patti LuPone this weekend, at the Tony Awards. (LuPone's victory seems highly likely.) The case against LuPone: She sits in a chair and sings just one song, and she is too old for the role. It's hard to argue with this--but I think she does great work with the song, and it's one of the All-Time Brilliant Moments in the Sondheim catalog. And even if we see LuPone's third Tony as a "lifetime achievement" Tony, let's just recall what that life has entailed: *Iconic roles in "Gypsy," "Company," "Anything Goes," "Sweeney Todd" (all first-rate musicals) *Iconic roles in "Les Miserables," "Sunset Boulevard," and "Evita" (so-so musicals, but they have made a mark) *Important voiceover work in "Title of Show" *LuPone has immortalized the following sentences, which could now carry (should now carry) a Patti LuPone TM sign: "Silen

  Keith Gessen has a new parenting memoir--"Raising Raffi"--and of course I went right to the section on kids' books. Gessen writes beautifully about Russell Hoban, who is maybe the greatest of the greats. Gessen admires Hoban for maintaining creative juice all through the Frances series: The concluding book, "Bargain for Frances," seems just as strong as the first entry, "Bedtime for Frances." Gessen admires Frances's crafty and patient parents, who endure Frances's hunger strike and "runaway phase," and who never seem to break a sweat. Gessen also admires Hoban's "lapidary style, somewhere between poetry and prose": The little hand is at 7. It is seven o'clock. It is bedtime for Frances.... I really like Gessen's observations about Eric Carle. Carle spent part of his youth in America, but his German emigre parents were feeling homesick. The parents took Carle on a trip to Germany--then everyone was swept up in

 My frenemy arrived on time to my child's birthday. "As you know," he said, "my own son will be turning one next week." I did know this. I knew because I'd received the elaborate invitation, which looked like something Rose Byrne had cooked up in  Bridesmaids . It had made me feel bad about my own invitations, which are lacking in the departments of photography and graphic design. "I've really decided to go all-out for my kid's party," said my frenemy. "Now that the pandemic is calming down, you know. I've hired a face-painter." It's my belief that a one-year-old doesn't need face paint. It's my belief that a baby can be fascinated by a pebble, an acorn, and a twig. I kept these thoughts to myself. "Did you join the community pool?" asked my frenemy, and my husband said, "Yes!" My husband was excited. "We considered the option," said my frenemy. "But, then, our neighbor has an in-

 Like so much of the other Mother Monster work, Lady Gaga's new song is a little bit shrewd, a little bit corny. Gaga had an unenviable task--to write a sequel to "Take My Breath Away," a famous Hollywood song. It's smart for Gaga to tip her hat to this song, by choosing a *different* command for her own title: You don't have to take my breath away, but you do have to hold my hand . A lover--no longer an impassioned twentysomething mess--attempts to care for another lover. The new song is about trying to understand what another person is feeling. "So cry tonight--but don't you let go of my hand. You can cry every last tear. I won't leave till I understand...." One fascinating section seems to allude to Lady Gaga's chronic pain: "Don't you give up on yourself....I've heard a story....A girl, she once told me.....that I would be happy again...." "If you decide to, I'll ride in this life with you": Simple, direct,

  Just noting that Aidy Bryant is also leaving SNL. I don't have the "Bryant bond" the way I have a "McKinnon bond." But there is a Bryant performance I return to quite often. It came out around the time of Adele's "Hello." The music video--a masterpiece by gay phenom Xavier Dolan--had Adele writhing and twisting in a haunted house, then on spooky moors. A full diva performance. Something worthy of Joan Crawford. Along comes Aidy Bryant. She imagines a mundane Thanksgiving dinner, somewhere in suburban America. There is banal chatter; maybe someone who likes cranberry sauce now claims to dislike cranberry sauce. Maybe a certain cousin's new haircut is controversial. At random moments in the dinner, time stops, and Bryant morphs into Adele, seething, clutching her scalp, shrieking on the banks of Loch Ness. We are all Adele; we all have hidden depths.  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e2zyjbH9zzA I'm also fond of Bryant in "Back Home Bal

 The final SVU of the year made me think of a notable recent case of police incompetence, the Gabby Petito case. Petito and her boyfriend were pulled over when the boyfriend--Brian--rammed his car into a curb. Petito telegraphed serious distress in a few ways: She indicated that Brian had grabbed her by the throat (a major sign that the male partner is eventually going to turn his aggression into murder), she sobbed hysterically and assumed all "the blame" (while Brian was eerily calm and said, "crazy woman"), she mentioned Brian's habit of belittling her aspirations. It would seem you didn't need a PhD to infer where all this was headed, but the police decided this was just a "couple's squabble," and "probably both parties were being a little hotheaded." Easy just to give a stern lecture and head to the donut shop! Then a murder and a suicide occurred. SVU ended its season with a variation on this story. A woman is a victim of domest

 "The Music Man" is a classic rom com -- classic in the Shakespeare/Austen/Nora Ephron tradition. Boy meets girl; hatred bubbles up; hatred becomes love. Meredith Willson's heroine enlists our sympathies in a canonical "I Want" song: My white knight.... Not a Lancelot, nor an angel with wings.... Just someone who loves me, and who's not ashamed of a few nice things.... My white knight... What my heart would say if it only knew how! Please, dear Venus.... Show me now..... Marian wants to notice the world: "Let me walk with him--where the others ride by." She'd like to ponder "what makes Shakespeare and Beethoven great." She'd like a guy "to sit with me in a cottage somewhere in the state of Iowa." Shrewdly, Meredith Willson makes the final big number a number *about* noticing: Once Marian has committed herself to Harold Hill, she can note "the bells on the hill," "the birds in the sky," "the love

  I'm thinking about manners, as my kids begin their social lives. The adult world is one elaborate misunderstanding, next to another, next to another, next to another. This is why we have fiction. We are mysteries to ourselves and to others, and we continuously make mountains from molehills. James Marshall wrote his greatest story, "The Misunderstanding," specifically about manners: George doesn't explain himself clearly, Martha becomes furious, and then the non-problem becomes an avalanche. Susie has an eye on Mr. Elephant, but she does not ask for a loan. She just grabs Mr. E. Josh does not factor in her age, or consider the option of "using one's words." He becomes irate; the sky is falling. Mr. E. is quiet, stunned, in the middle; he is collateral damage. Fortunately, both kids are resilient. We're reading:  *"The Best Place," by Susan Meddaugh. I love the art and the strange humor; also, it's nice to stumble on an original tale. *