Liars and Saints

  We took our child out of the YMCA camp. I'm not very interested in the specifics of the camp. Other people seem to have a good time there.   What I did notice was that the camp was frequently calling, mentioning moments of aggression, poop accidents, penis waving. The head of the camp was exceedingly nice and a bit passive, and instead of giving me instructions, she would murmur about her need to "locate Joshua's triggers." Finally, I asked her what she would do if she were in my shoes, and she said, "I can't answer that, but I can tell you that I worry about Josh at my camp. I worry every single day." There was no need to hear anything more.     The *new* camp is both more expensive *and* more demanding. They tell me to send a trained babysitter -- someone to monitor Josh *in addition* to the counselors who are paid to monitor him. A part of me resents this. Isn't the camp getting enough money to solve its own problems? On the other hand, I apprec...

  One gift of Alice McDermott's is to invent characters who are both weird and recognizable; you feel you've met these people. Theresa, a tenth grader on Long Island, is semi-aware that her little cousin might be dying. But Theresa is in a kind of hormonal haze--and the death of a child is too much to think about--so Theresa lies to herself. At the same time, she is drawn to an elderly local artist whose work may or may not be "immortal." It's interesting--and scary--to feel that you have power over a Great Man. Theresa starts showing off around the artist; she shares her thoughts about Shakespeare (and about his villain Macbeth). Theresa's parents have moved to Long Island, to a groundskeeper's cottage, because they think that Theresa's proximity to wealthy people is a good thing. They encourage her to mingle with rich neighbors; at the same time, they feel wary around her, because they know she will not remain close to home. (In this way, McDermott i...

 In high school, I became interested in the Vietnam War--American failures, American atrocities. I wrote a paper on the Kent State Massacre and listened to the soundtrack from "Miss Saigon." There is Kim, singing about Bob Kerrey: Do you want one more tale of a Vietnam girl? Want to know how I'm bound to a man I don't love? Do you want to be told how my village was burned? Want to hear how my family was blasted away? How I ran from the rice fields and saw them in flames? How my parents were bodies whose faces were gone... This is unusual material for a Broadway show. Like Frank Rich, I think that the European mega-musicals are a mixed bag--and that "Miss Saigon" is the best of the bunch. This structurally bizarre spectacle establishes a bond between Kim and a white GI--but then flashes forward by three years. The GI has abandoned Kim (and a small child, a son). Kim has been hiding from her cousin, Thuy, who wants an arranged marriage. In the show's stran...

  My children don't do amusement parks; the parks have not been a top priority. But we have one "ride" nearby. It's the Turtle Back Train experience. The train does several things--it does its tasks very well. You get themed topiary. (The black bear is dressed in a patriotic hat around the Fourth of July.) You get African vistas; real giraffes seem to wander close to your train. (You can also spot sanga cattle. To me, these descendants of aurochs are the unsung heroes of almost any zoo.) ....After speeding through "African grassland," the train makes a sharp turn and soars above a manmade lake (so you may feel you are chugging along the perimeter of Lake Victoria). There are inevitably pedestrians wandering by the lake, and my son, in Princess Di mode, likes to shout, "Enjoy your day!" The final part of the "set" is a model of a ghost town, and here I do think the engineers could have slowed down a bit. They have hastily labeled one build...

  Francine Prose describes Caravaggio and his interest in miracles. Caravaggio made us aware: that these miracles had transpired neither in primary colors, nor in brilliantly hued paintings of sanitized saints and celestial fireworks, but in dusty streets and dark rooms much like the streets and rooms in which he himself lived. With Caravaggio, we see the Biblical scene, but we also see Renaissance-era Europeans in the act of posing. Caravaggio wants us to know that he is painting "actors" or performers. Many Renaissance images of Mary Magdalene are at least partly erotic; Caravaggio goes another way. His penitent Magdalene is not a Hollywood pinup. She wears contemporary clothing, and her image "avoids pathos and languid sensuality."  Caravaggio's earthiness makes me think of Sondheim: You can pull all the stops out Till they call the cops out-- Grind your behind till you're banned... But you gotta get a GIMMICK... If you want to get a hand... There are cur...

  Gregg Araki's "I Want Your Sex" is not history's most original movie, but it's nice to see writers and actors having fun. Olivia Wilde works as a conceptual artist in a noisy, cavernous studio. The noise is a recording of Wilde in the act of masturbating. She believes that the sound is inspirational.  Wilde hires young people to chew gum and stick the sugary detritus on a sketch of Wilde's private parts--this is a work-to-be-auctioned. When interviewed about her art, Wilde says, "I think this entire world is ridiculous, and my reason for working is just that I like money." Wilde hires Philip Seymour Hoffman's son. Hoffman has a vague desire to start a podcast about art--but he feels blocked. (His girlfriend, neurologist Charli XCX, sees art as frivolous--but Hoffman chooses *not* to worry that this is a major problem.) Hoffman occasionally wonders if his world might expand after anal sex; specifically, he might find some philosophical/cosmic ...