Liars and Saints

 Spiritual guides come in odd packages, and one of my saviors this year was my child's physical therapist. I'm not even convinced that my son *needed* physical therapy, but it's difficult to say no to a suggestion, and now I wouldn't rewrite this past year if I could. The therapist was a little like Patti LuPone. She did not hold back. When I worried that my children sometimes seemed overly content with "silent time" in the crib, the therapist rolled her eyes at me. "You're ridiculous. You need to let those kids entertain themselves as long as possible." When I won tickets to "Into the Woods," the therapist had very little sympathy about my babysitter anxiety. "Let's say you can't find a sitter. You lock those children in a closet, and you go see Heather Headley." The general message was: "Do less." For example, one day the therapist landed on the topic of Legoland. "Just don't do it," she said,

  In high school, I played in a pit band for "Grease," and the high-strung gay man at the podium would often roll his eyes. "Every day at school I watch ya / Always will until I gotcha....My God, this writer was a real Sondheim....." Well, no. But "Grease" is more than just fun. Sometimes, it's really smart. Sandy recalls, "It got colder....That's when [love] ends...." Cut to Danny, with his own clan: "And I told her....we'd still be friends...." And who can forget Billy Porter, giving tough advice to his protege? "Beauty School Dropout....You think you're such a looker. But no customer would go to you...unless she was a hooker...." ( And I know you're not a hooker...Sit up..... ) My favorite moment in "Grease" is "Those Magic Changes," which makes clear that adolescent heartache is narrative gold. Without teen angst, we wouldn't have "Pride and Prejudice" or "Romeo an

  "Sweeney Todd," by Stephen Sondheim, is often ranked (among Broadway zealots) as the greatest American musical in our history. (Its big rival is "Gypsy," also by Stephen Sondheim.) One of the joys of "Sweeney" is the way it breaks some unwritten rules. For example, a rule: Your protagonist must be likeable. Nellie Forbush must be a ray of sun, a cockeyed optimist. Marian Paroo must be a fine sister, a fine daughter, a paragon of good sense. Maria the postulant misses mass because she wants to admire the "dark green shadows" of the trees. Who wouldn't love that problem called Maria? But Sweeney Todd is gloomy; he is a half-zombie. A plan he has is to commit mass murder. He doesn't "warm the heart." Second, another rule: The hero should get what he or she wants. Nellie finds love on some enchanted evening. Marian discovers her white knight. Maria weds and (I guess) she climbs an erotic mountain, among other mountains, in Act Two

  In Maplewood, the white parents sometimes get upset about “after-care.” This was a service--now suspended--that looked after your children once the final bell had sounded. The white parents go to Facebook and write: “I guess I’ll need to give up my job now, since there is no one to watch my kid after 2:30!” Other parents respond with “sad-face emojis,” and a few use the “virtual hug” option. Inevitably, a super-pious lefty contrarian parent weighs in. She takes a “wide-eyed alien approach.” With just a hint of edge, she writes, “Are people now entitled to after-care? Must teachers be babysitters after three pm? That’s certainly not how the world worked when *I* was a teacher....” One option would be to ignore this lone voice, but that’s impossible. The piousness reaches new heights: “KW, I am a teacher RIGHT NOW. I cannot teach MY STUDENTS because MY GENETIC OFFSPRING DO NOT HAVE AFTER-CARE. If PRESENT-DAY TEACHERS cannot keep their day jobs....then no one wins....” KW then tries to

  Russell Hoban wrote one dark and cynical masterpiece--like something from Patricia Highsmith. The book is "A Bargain for Frances," and it stars two warring friends. Little Frances wants a china tea seat. But her acquaintance, Thelma, says that that particular set is no longer on the market; Thelma says it's better just to accept a plastic tea set. Thelma then uses cash from the sale to buy her own china set; the china set has never really been off the market. The story gets crazier, and it ends with a famous exchange. "I'll need to be careful around you," says Thelma. And Frances asks: "Do you want to be  careful ? Or do you want to be  friends ?" Living, breathing, bizarre personalities--there on the page. And Hoban does his work with a light touch, with very few words.

On Kathleen Hale, "Slenderman":  There is a saying: If you treat people like wolves, they will become wolves. Several years ago, in Wisconsin, an untreated schizophrenic man decided to have a child. (There would be a one-in-ten chance the child would also have schizophrenia, but I'm not sure that figure was known, in this case.) The little girl, Morgan, quickly began having hallucinations, but no one seemed to notice. She found RL Stine-adjacent stories about boogeymen in the woods. So she took a mallet to school, "for self-defense," and the mallet was confiscated. No one asked her to explain herself. She spent a day at home, then returned to class. Morgan asked to write a hagiographical report on Adolf Hitler, and she sometimes seemed to become a cat (through her posture and vocalizations). Adults wagged a finger and made notes about "attention-seeking behavior," and that was the end of the response. Eventually, Morgan persuaded a friend to help with

 I love my neighbors, two wacky gay men with a truckload of domesticated animals and a fondness for horror films. For this reason, I'm indulgent when my neighbors become a bit overly excited about board games, or about the Hulu series  Under the Banner of Heaven.  Have I myself not occasionally talked too much about Sondheim? Have I not bored a listener with unwanted biographical reporting on Beverly Cleary? But my patience wears thin when we begin to talk about dieting. I don't believe in diets. I think they are punitive and ineffective. I think they are a way to ensure that you will ultimately gain weight. I have evidence, too: After reporting gleefully on their food successes, my neighbors inevitably gain weight. And a period of sadness sets in. And the roller-coaster ride begins again. I've rarely, if ever, seen religious zeal that matches my neighbors' feelings for the KETO diet. One day, these two arrived at my house, and they just began unspooling many lengthy st

 My husband observed that I didn't discuss "Mrs. Harris Goes to Paris" yet. He had selected this--a few weeks ago--and it's charming, and it deserves to be seen. Marc and I do not share an approach to movies. Marc sees most works of fiction as actual documentaries; Mrs. Harris is a real person, and her travails are part of the historical record. (I admire this approach to stories.) My own weird junkie way of viewing a movie is like how a sports addict views a baseball game. Will Huppert pitch a no-hitter? Lesley Manville in the ring with Jason Isaacs--are these two well-matched welterweights? Anyway, "Mrs. Harris" is a bit different from what I'd imagined. I thought it would be about a mousy person finding her voice. It has elements of that story, but it's more complicated. Really, it's about how life pushes you in one direction, then another, then another, and how the one thing you can control is just your own conduct. Mrs. Harris has a difficul

 There is nothing rational behind these judgments. I can’t name a single criterion I used for my decisions. Just listening to my gut. Movie of the Summer "Top Gun II." I saw other blockbusters--"Jurassic World," "Thor," "Elvis"--and not one came close. The script of "Top Gun II" belongs in a script museum. It's a well-oiled machine. So many fine moments: Tom Cruise trying to evade his girlfriend's daughter, who watches his every move; Jennifer Connelly seeing the uniform in the bar, and understanding the meaning of that uniform; the computer screen, and Val Kilmer sitting at the keyboard. I also thought Miles Teller gave a beautifully judged performance, and Jon Hamm was terrific. (Runner-up movies: "Watcher," "Resurrection.") Book of the Summer This has to be "Rogues," by Patrick Radden Keefe. It's a book of real-world stories about criminals. Keefe is an encyclopedia; he knows that the Unabomb

 The Covid vaccine spot down the road has become a House of Horrors; there is a tall, thick curtain, and screams drift down past the southern border of the velvet. Screams of small babies. The Covid people have tried to disguise the screams with a jumpy soundtrack; you hear Pitbull, you hear Kesha.  It's going down!!! I'm yelling TIMBER!!!!! You betta move....you betta dance.....  But the Kesha beats don't really fool anyone. This is like using a single square of air freshener to try to combat the remnants from a puddle of vomit. My son is shrewd, and he can sense right away that this isn't a fun trip. Also, I don't like to sugar-coat, so I whisper: "Our next half hour might be miserable. At the best, it will be tedious. Use the force, Young Jedi....." My husband has a different approach, which is to look for the silver lining. "Kesha!" he shouts. And he begins to dance. The actual climax is worse than I anticipated; my son has a runny nose, and

 Like James Marshall, Russell Hoban was amazingly consistent; the last of the Frances Badger books is just as popular as the first one. Like Marshall, Hoban uses a slightly ridiculous protagonist who struggles with certain aspects of daily life: eating, maintaining a friendship, managing anxiety, coping with envy. Maybe the greatest Frances book--"Bread and Jam for Frances"--has Frances rejecting a well-balanced diet. She will eat only bread and jam. The story has inevitable twists; peer pressure plays a role, and also, when Mother Badger stops fighting Frances, then the bread-and-jam diet seems less sensational, and less interesting. Frances finally demands spaghetti with meatballs. To me, the thing that makes this book so special is the set of songs Frances writes about food. For example, a note to an egg: I do not like the way you slide, I do not like your soft inside, I do not like you lots of ways, And I could do for many days  Without eggs. And a song for meat: What do

  Adam Guettel is in the news because his dead mother, Mary Rodgers, has released a memoir. Also, Guettel's "Light in the Piazza" will come back to New York City in a few months; this will be a big deal. Guettel has written two classic "show closers." Both occur in shows that don't really work. The first is the end of "Floyd Collins" -- a song called "How Glory Goes." A man is trapped in a cave; he knows he is going to die. He tries to imagine the afterlife: Will my mama be there, waiting for me? Smiling like the way she does, and holding out her arms? As she calls my name.....? He wonders if life's irritations will follow him into heaven: Will I want, will I wish for all the things I should have done-- Longing to finish what I've only just begun? Nothing is resolved, and in the song's final moments, Floyd does something startling. He begins to yodel; we have known, all evening, that he enjoys yodeling. He used to do this with

  Before owning a house, I never stayed in an apartment for more than two years. Something would irritate me, and I'd think, ah, well, I'll be in a new space, a new borough, in the fall. My husband and I now plan to remain in one spot for approximately eighteen years, before decamping to Palm Springs (where gays go to die). Each time my house annoys me, I think, this will all be different in Palm Springs (as if plumbing issues and HVAC crises and trash-disposal arguments simply do not exist in that big desert). Right now, my house is twenty-percent non-functional, because a bathroom exploded and sent its liquid contents into the kitchen; lights flickered, and rainwater showered down, and I recalled the velociraptor climax from the first "Jurassic Park." Everyone in the family has learned to cope; a bathroom sink is now in the dining room, and a medicine cabinet is in a hallway, and I sometimes set out appetizers next to Band-Aids and pill bottles, until I worry that I

I don't have thoughts on "Donnie Brasco" or the Harrison Ford rom-com, but Anne Heche did star in one of my all-time favorite movies, a movie I re-watch once per year--"Walking and Talking." Heche is unforgettable to me for having played one deeply ordinary control freak, when she must have been still in her twenties. Heche is "Laura," a woman who isn't sure how she feels about her engagement. (Her fiance is Todd Field, the brain behind "In the Bedroom.") Laura begins flirting with other men, and she picks fights with Todd Field; for example, she really wants Field to have a certain mole biopsied. Laura's concern is nice, but it's also overbearing, and it begins to feel paranoid and even monstrous. A fight gets out of control, and later, Field tries to apologize. He presents Laura with a small jewelry box--a  mea culpa . But the box actually contains the tiny, biopsied mole. This is a terrible, clumsy joke--and it's also sligh

  "Dear Evan Hansen" is a canonical example of "Second-Act Syndrome," in which a promising thought falls apart somewhere after the entr'acte. The first act has several exciting moments; a troubled kid stumbles on a bad idea, and then the idea grows and grows, and there seems to be no way out of the mess. Unfortunately, in Act Two, the writers feel they *do* need to invent a way out of the mess, and they clearly get bored, and you get bored, too, because you're sitting in the audience. That said, I'll remember "Dear Evan Hansen" for a few good reasons. The writers studied Rodgers and Hammerstein; they open with a scene-setting number that grows straight of the mighty trunk that is "O, What a Beautiful Morning." The song--"Does Anybody Have a Map?"--isn't especially original, but it sets a tone (anxious, funny), and it throws us into the world of two interesting families; we're hooked. The writers also do a fine job wi

  In Maplewood, everyone fights to have a chance to be severely mistreated by the disorganized public-school system. There is a cap on pre-K spots, and you win your spot by participating in a lottery. The details of the lottery are shrouded in mystery, and each announcement is delayed until the last possible moment, so families put down "back-up" deposits at private schools, then lose their deposits when they learn their SOMA public-school admissions status. SOMA public schools seem to *advertise* their own incompetence; for example, if you visit the SOMA applications lockbox, an actual, physical box, you might find a cheerful sign that says, "PLEASE COME BACK DUURUING [sic] OUR USUAL BUSINESS HOURS." I could focus on this, but instead I'm trying to focus on my daughter, and her impending Halloween. Motherhood involves long, lonely hours, and you sometimes find yourself crazily snapping shots of your costumed baby as you half-listen to a murder podcast and snack

On "Little Houses":   Kevin Henkes never really set aside his "child mind"; this is the reason for his success. Again and again, he creates children who wrestle with the natural world: a baby who struggles to understand what the moon is, a girl who dreams of a garden with invisible carrots ("I hate carrots"), another girl who waits (and waits and waits) for snow. Henkes's newest brilliant idea is to travel to the beach. His protagonist notes that shells are "little houses" -- and this leads her to imagine her own house with "orange freckles," or her house with "shiny pink walls." She goes on to consider the sounds in a shell -- are these the voices of ghosts who once lived on the beach? What do we really "know" about the ocean? Why--how--are the waves blue and white and silver and purple all at once? What lives on the bottom of the ocean floor? How old are the rocks by the sand? A snowy egret visits. Has the snow

 The great American novelist Michael Connelly is also a book critic; he has written beautifully about the noir master James M. Cain.    https://www.nytimes.com/2012/09/23/books/review/the-cocktail-waitress-by-james-m-cain.html Cain created "Double Indemnity," a story about evil and seduction. Its villain, Phyllis, is charismatic, beautiful, persuasive, and soulless; she is like a new version of the Wicked Queen, from "Snow White." I think Connelly had Phyllis in mind when he wrote his crime novel, "The Closers," because that particular book has a duplicitous villain for the ages. "The Closers" was a kind of comeback for Connelly; he had strayed from the standard police procedural, and, with "The Closers," he returned to form. The story has Connelly's main hero, Bosch, exiting retirement to look at a cold case. Years ago, a secretly pregnant biracial girl was murdered. The gun has a "tattoo"; it has skin from the alleged mu

 August might seem a little early for Halloween shopping, but parenthood has turned me into an over-planner. Now, I won't see a movie if I spot one lukewarm review, and I won't drive to an appointment unless I have pre-rehearsed the route, by myself, at least once in the recent past. Time is precious; there are just so many ways a thing, even a small thing, can go wrong. You'd think selecting a witch costume would be simple, but Amazon offers witch costumes without hats. Who would dress without a spiky black hat? Additionally, there is an emphasis on text; a witch apparently needs to wander around with a breastplate that reads, "My First Halloween." No witch would actually do this, and also that word "first" really limits you, if you have a two or two-point-five year-old. I know I have a small window in which to engineer my child's Halloween for her; I know it's just a matter of months before she is old enough to insist on her own bizarre costume

  As the Emmy Awards approach, I have just a few thoughts about "The White Lotus." *Gay people don't always get a spotlight in prestige TV. I'm watching "Breaking Bad," and, hour after hour, I search for a gay character, and all I get is the whispered suggestion that Gus Fring is *possibly* gay. The flamboyant "Mad Men" artist disappears quickly. Good luck finding a gay man in "Friday Night Lights." (I think there is just one, and I think he gets three lines.) "The White Lotus" is a work of genius by a bisexual man--and, also, if Murray Bartlett--playing Daniel Barrett--wins the Emmy, then that's great. Additionally, I was touched by Steve Zahn's sexuality crisis--something I think I haven't seen on TV before. *It seems to me that Molly Shannon was the heart and soul of "The White Lotus." No nomination? But there's room for Connie Britton's daughter? This seems problematic to me. *Finally, people ta

  Certain critics have recently ranked the best opening numbers in Broadway history; of course, "Hairspray" and "Oklahoma" and "Sweeney Todd" all performed well. Marc thought the number one slot would go to "The Sound of Music"; I was thinking of "Chicago" or "The Music Man." In fact, the spot went to "Fiddler on the Roof." On further reflection, I'd give my vote to "Guys and Dolls"--a show that didn't get a mention in the top ten. Frank Loesser wrote "Guys and Dolls"; Loesser was a favorite of Sondheim's. Loesser immediately plunges you into the world he is creating; he gathers a group of racetrack low-lifes, who sing about horses. Each guy is certain he can see the future. "I got the horse right here. The name is Paul Revere...." "For Paul Revere, I'll bite; I hear his foot's all right....Of course it all depends if it rained last night...." "I'm

  I'm human; all the Will Smith material was mesmerizing to me. Here's what I noticed: If you took Will Smith to task, you were possibly racist. If you didn't take Will Smith to task, you were possibly helping the spread of a macho pro-violence toxic awfulness all through the world. I'm sympathetic to both positions. I did think that white people tended to clutch their pearls a bit excessively about Will Smith; by contrast, think about Reese Witherspoon. In 2013, America's sweetheart was riding along with her intoxicated husband, who was stopped and cited for DUI. Witherspoon chose to harass the officer, who was just doing his job. "Do you know my name?" Witherspoon asked. "You're about to find out who I am. You're about to be on national news!" All this seems just about as embarrassing as Will Smith's behavior, but I can't remember the same national revulsion, back in 2013. Maybe I have a foggy brain. (Note that Witherspoon's

  When Glenn Close was campaigning for "The Wife," she would tell a story about her mother, on her deathbed: Stricken, Close, Sr., looked around and said, "Wait. In my life....I never *did* anything...." This could have inspired the makers of "Good Luck to You, Leo Grande," which has Emma Thompson fighting against a ticking clock. Thompson plays Susan Robinson--yes, the writer jokes about "Mrs. Robinson"--a person in her sixties who would very much like to have one orgasm before her seventieth birthday. This story is deeply, deeply sad, and Thompson is well aware that she isn't just making a sex comedy. In the "Oscar reel" moment (although this film isn't eligible for Oscars), Susan Robinson recalls having been twenty; she was a kid on a family vacation, and a waiter began to seduce her late at night. But a noisy car disrupted the scene. Susan has thought about this night, on a daily basis, for forty years. As Emma Thompson reci

 It's a big season for Barbara Pym, a major novelist from the fifties. Pym is the subject of a new biography by Paula Byrne. Here are the things people say about Ms. Pym. She was like Jane Austen, only funnier. She was the most undervalued great artist of the twentieth century (or something similarly hyperbolic). She liked to write about gossip, and about "church jumble sales." Pym had a humorously bleak outlook on life, and the bleakness is captured in several of her titles: "No Fond Return of Love," "Less Than Angels," "An Unsuitable Attachment," "The Sweet Dove Died." Many critics think "Quartet in Autumn," a Booker finalist, was the best of Pym's work. But "Sweet Dove" and "Some Tame Gazelle" and "A Glass of Blessings" are all books with loud admirers. A Pym novel tends to have slightly ridiculous people humming along in a depressed post-war community. A single woman in her late thirti

 2019 My son is born on August 3. We very quickly begin reading "The Complete George and Martha," by James Marshall. No other children's book will ever mean more to my family. Marshall's two hippos--named for Edward Albee protagonists--seem to comment on everything that happens in the world. Jealousy, love, competition, evasiveness, generosity, sacrifice, chaos, self-reflection, fear, ambition, scheming: It's all there. Each story has a minimalist touch, and layers, and a sense of humor that is accessible to a child. 2020 At one, Josh is "reading"  Madeline  with me. We sit in a beach house and notice the Seine, in the pictures--and, also, "a crack that had the habit....of resembling a rabbit...." 2021 Josh travels to Provincetown, and the two of us read "Rapunzel," by Paul Zelinsky. Is this terrifying story appropriate for a small child? Maybe not, but we like Zelinsky, and later we have more fun with PZ's version of "The Wh