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On Fleetwood Mac

  Anne Lamott has a new book out, a book on writing. Her main observation is that writing should not sound literary. If it "sounds lyrical," it's bad writing. The hard work is to *sound* conversational, while conveying deep thought. Can you hear me calling out your name? You know that I'm falling, and I don't know what to say. I'll speak a little louder, I'll even shout-- You know that I'm proud, and I can't get the words out. My personal obsession is with song lines in which a speaker interrupts herself and reverses course. "If I was a sculptor -- but then again, no -- a man who makes potions in a traveling show...." Christine McVie includes *two* versions of herself: the bold exhibitionist and the suffering wallflower. This is a way of signaling an internal conflict. Something's happening...happening to me. My friends say I'm acting peculiarly. Come on, baby; we better make a start. You better make it soon before you break my he...
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On Snoopy

We might not often think of Snoopy having a dialogue with Virginia Woolf, but in 1973, the "conversation" occurred. Woolf famously wrote that a female artist should have a room -- a "room of one's own." She was speaking in a figurative way -- but, also, she was not. She was (at least partly) being literal. One should have a room of one's own. Jane Austen's nephew observed that Austen would write in a very public sitting room -- when guests visited, Austen would hide her manuscript under blotting paper, so she wouldn't have to engage in chit-chat about the very strange work that she was attempting. Alice Munro confessed that -- in young motherhood -- she would push her daughter's fingers away from the keyboard, so that she could continue to make progress. (This story has new resonance after the recent Andrea Skinner revelations.) By contrast, Snoopy has a man-vs.-nature problem. You can't write in the dark. "You can't write by firefly...

My Son Josh

  My son is a gifted mimic; one thing he does particularly well is the passive-aggressive tone that adults use when they're making veiled threats. You've heard this tone; it has a kind of exaggerated calmness, a sense of briskness. "Okay, then. I guess we're just not going to go out for ice cream today...." It's a tone that is borrowed from Taylor Swift's "Look What You Made Me Do." Josh uses this tone to taunt his sister, though his vocabulary is still somewhat limited: "Okay. So be mean then. So I guess you are not a nice girl." Susie--who is so bright in so many settings--nevertheless cannot outwit Josh in the game. She cannot rise above. She wails in sorrow; she drowns in the unfairness. Because she firmly believes that she  is  a nice girl. Usually, these scenes occur only at home--while Josh remains angelic at school. But, last week, Josh was constipated, and the discomfort caused him to antagonize his classmates. And I understand...

Saturday Night Live

  In "Weekend Update: Elmo," a young creature is at war with himself. Recently, Elmo has felt threatened by Zoe's pet rock, Rocco. (This tale of professional jealousy makes me think of Timothee Chalamet's recent comments about ballet and opera--one can't help but suspect that Chalamet may have been insecure when pondering a difficult "flavor" of high art.) On a bad day, Elmo made insulting comments about Rocco--but he recovered with a lengthy, thoughtful Instagram apology. (Here, I think of the new Instagram "cover your ass" letter that Anna Camp wrote, with reference to Melissa Barrera.) Just how meaningful is a "mea culpa" on Instagram? Michael Che explores the question by having Elmo confront Rocco in person. And the venomous truth seeps out. ("Rocco does not need a chair....Rocco does not have legs! Elmo furious...") I'm not sure if Chloe Fineman was reflecting on Patti LuPone when she worked on this skit. In any cas...

Movies and Books

What is on my radar:   *"Bombshell." 2016: Megyn Kelly informed Trump of Trump's own comments about women. This led to threats on Kelly's life and threats against her family. So it's understandable that the opportunity to take down Roger Ailes does not fill Megyn with joy. (That said, if she doesn't speak up, she is sending a particular message to younger people, including her own kids. Megyn's ambivalence toward cultural poison--a poison that she herself uses and promotes in many settings--is not fully explored in the movie. That's a shame.) I appreciated certain details in this script. The running joke about Roger Ailes's paranoia (a terrible character flaw that creates special problems on September 12, 2001) is effective. I also liked Allison Janney as a lawyer squaring off against the Murdochs: "Roger Ailes made one third of your fortune. There are three of you. Imagine if one of you could no longer eat...." *"The Dentist," ...

My Weekend

 Nothing awakens my inner "teen girl" faster than a Colleen Hoover movie. On Saturday, I went (alone) to "Reminders of Him," a heartstopper. Maika Monroe is driving her car--and she has just "bedded" her fiance in a little secluded lake. Her postcoital recklessness means that she does not swerve for a pothole, and so her car is sent flying off the edge of a cliff. She thinks that she has inadvertently killed her fiance--she stumbles away from the car and drinks herself into a blackout state. But--all along--her fiance has been struggling, slowly dying. Maika is charged with vehicular manslaughter; tearfully, she pleads guilty. But she doesn't know that she is pregnant! For seven years, she can't see her child. She can't even have one postpartum day with the kid--the kid goes immediately to the NICU. But--after seven years--Maika gets out of jail and falls for her new employer. It's just an unfortunate twist that her new employer is also the...

Oscars

  I enjoyed the NYT "Sketch Pad" this weekend -- "How Not to Be the 'Dead Wife in a Movie' Trope." Though the artist doesn't name any particular movies, I believe he is thinking about Rachel Brosnahan in "The Amateur." Also: "Gladiator II." Also: "Deadpool II." The attention to detail is the artist's secret weapon. If you want to stay alive past Act I, you need to fart and be gross. ("Wouldn't it be fun to save all my toenail clippings?") Also, it helps to *ruin* any golden-hour strolls through fields of wheat. (You can do this by making a nutty comment: "I just think it's clear that Kubrick faked the moon landing....") Well done.