Skip to main content

Letter From Santa Fe












My favorite spot in Santa Fe is the Cocteau Cinema, one of few indie film theaters in NM, owned and resuscitated by George R.R. Martin.


Movie lovers are interested in "Sight and Sound," a publication that ranks the all-time great films (every few years). Martin has made a parody of this effort--"Splice and Splatter"--a podcast with discussions of horror movies. The poster features Kathy Bates, Ghostface, Sissy Spacek, Janet Leigh, and (a personal favorite) one of the three masked killers from "The Strangers."


Right now, the Cocteau Cinema will give you a glass of wine and a screening of the Paul Giamatti "Rewatchable" prizewinner, "Sideways." 


Next to the Cocteau you will spot "Beastly Books," another strong idea from George Martin. Here, you'll see a corner devoted to "banned" novels--"The Giver," "The Dead Zone," "The Satanic Verses," "Maus," and so on. There is a coffee shop--and an area in celebration of Karen Russell ("Orange World"), Leigh Bardugo ("Hell Bent"), Grady Hendrix, Stephen King, Justin Cronin. A banner says, "Protect Trans Kids," and it's playful; the words are clustered between the jaws of a yawning werewolf.


All this talk of books makes me recall that the NYTimes is listing the "Blue Ribbon Books of This Current Century." I'll add my own top ten here:


*"No Visible Bruises"

*"Love Marriage"

*"Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian"

*"Someday This Pain Will Be Useful to You"

*"Iphigenia in Forest Hills"

*"The List of Things That Will Not Change"

*"Can't We Talk About Something More Pleasant"

*"Everything Is an Emergency"

*"Unscripted"

*"You Only Call When You're in Trouble"


Till next time.

Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

How to Host a Baby

-You have assumed responsibility for a mewling, puking ball of life, a yellow-lab pup. He will spit his half-digested kibble all over your shoes, all over your hard-cover edition of Jennifer Haigh's novel  Faith . He will eat your tables, your chairs, your "I {Heart] Montessori" magnet, placed too low on the fridge. When you try to watch Bette Davis in  Hush Hush Sweet Charlotte , on your TV, your dog will bark through the murder-prologue, for no apparent reason. He will whimper through Lena Dunham's  Girls , such that you have to rewind several times to catch every nuance of Andrew Rannells's ad-libbing--and, still, you'll have a nagging suspicion you've missed something. Your dog will poop on the kitchen floor, in the hallway, between the tiny bars of his crate. He'll announce his wakefulness at 5 AM, 2 AM, or while you and another human are mid-coitus. All this, and you get outside, and it's: "Don't let him pee on my tulips!" When...
3 comments
Read more

The Death of Bergoglio

  It's frustrating for me to hear Bergoglio described as "the less awful pope"--because awful is still awful. I think I get fixated on ideas of purity, which can be juvenile, but putting that aside, here are some things that Bergoglio could have done and did not. (I'm quoting from a survivor of sexual abuse at the hands of the Church.) He could levy the harshest penalty, excommunication, against a dozen or more of the most egregious abuse enabling church officials. (He's done this to no enablers, or predators for that matter.) He could insist that every diocese and religious order turn over every record they have about suspected and known abusers to law enforcement. Francis could order every prelate on the planet to post on his diocesan website the names of every proven, admitted and credibly accused child molesting cleric. (Imagine how much safer children would be if police, prosecutors, parents and the public knew the identities of these potentially dangerous me...
1 comment
Read more

Raymond Carver: "What's in Alaska?"

Outside, Mary held Jack's arm and walked with her head down. They moved slowly on the sidewalk. He listened to the scuffing sounds her shoes made. He heard the sharp and separate sound of a dog barking and above that a murmuring of very distant traffic.  She raised her head. "When we get home, Jack, I want to be fucked, talked to, diverted. Divert me, Jack. I need to be diverted tonight." She tightened her hold on his arm. He could feel the dampness in that shoe. He unlocked the door and flipped the light. "Come to bed," she said. "I'm coming," he said. He went to the kitchen and drank two glasses of water. He turned off the living-room light and felt his way along the wall into the bedroom. "Jack!" she yelled. "Jack!" "Jesus Christ, it's me!" he said. "I'm trying to get the light on." He found the lamp, and she sat up in bed. Her eyes were bright. He pulled the stem on the alarm and b...
1 comment
Read more