Liars and Saints

  Plot isn't very important; what matters is an engaging voice. I'm reading "Colored Television," and it's not clear to me that a story will emerge, but I very much like the protagonist. She is Jane, an irreverent writer in Los Angeles. She calls herself "mulatta," because she dislikes the word "biracial." (She says the latter word sounds like a description of an insect, or alien, and also, it lacks specificity. A "biracial" person can have parents from any two varied backgrounds--any you can imagine.) Jane comes from the "Loving generation," a term she hates. Yes, her parents married after the  Loving  decision, handed down by the Supreme Court. But--since her parents have always deeply loathed each other--Jane prefers to think that she belongs to the "Hating generation." As a professor of creative writing, Jane assigns stories to Millennial grad students and Gen Z undergraduates. All students will complain about

  The first time I watched "The Sopranos" (Season Three), I was overwhelmed by Annabella Sciorra, called the greatest guest actor in the history of the series (see Michael Imperioli's remarks). Through "The Sopranos," Sciorra rewrites "Fatal Attraction," and she gives the story the ending that Glenn Close actually lobbied for. Rewatching now, I'm still mesmerized by Sciorra, but I'm newly interested in Jason Cerbone, who plays Jackie Jr. Though he is mostly deplorable, Jackie Jr. has nice moments. For example, he shares football tips with AJ. Also, he has a warm bond with a little girl--this forms over a game of chess--during his final days on Earth. We, on our sofas, might occasionally wonder how fully "rotted" Jackie Jr. has become; he might make us recall a certain therapist's observations to Carmela ("Take the children--what's left of them--and get out of your marriage"). At the end of the season, David Chase hel

My daughter wound up at my son's old school. "This is great," said my husband, "because it means you can continue to make fun of the principal." Indeed, that thought had (also) crossed *my* mind. When the principal speaks, I sometimes have to miss appointments, because I'm so eager to witness the lunacy. I'm truly humbled to be serving as your leader and remain   committed to providing a nurturing and challenging environment where every student can thrive. This year, I'm particularly excited about the finalization of our school's Vision Statement....I look forward to our next steps on how we will gain collaborative stakeholder participation and input. I'm also thrilled that much of the construction work around our school has been completed. In addition, I would like to take this opportunity to inform you that I ordered new furniture, materials, and supplies that will be added to classrooms throughout our school! I've been hard at work thi

  Fairy tales often feature battles between greed and selflessness: hungry wolf vs. courageous woodsman, cunning stepmother vs. gentle, generous Hansel, evil sisters vs. patient Cinderella. William Steig creates a variation on a theme, in "Sylvester and the Magic Pebble." Here, the malevolent force is a shiny pebble: It seems to give you everything you wish for, but secretly, it wants to steal your soul. When Sylvester spots a menacing lion, he foolishly (understandably) wishes to become a rock; this wish saves his life, but it also causes him to become paralyzed and mute. He can't "un-transform" himself, because he is now immobile, and he is not in contact with the pebble. Sylvester's parents are the true heroes. They search tirelessly for Sylvester. Even when they announce they're giving up, they continue thinking about Sylvester, talking about Sylvester. They spot a certain pebble and stash it on a rock ("because Sylvester always loved pebbles&qu

  "Sunset Boulevard" is not a musical I love; it seems bloodless. It is an overly literal translation of a good movie. I think it adds nothing to the movie. But I like the title song. It opens Act Two, and it nicely recalls the opening of the show, in which Joe speaks directly to the audience. In the song "Sunset Boulevard," Joe makes an explicit connection between the L.A. sunset and Norma Desmond's "sunset"; he lets us know we are watching a kind of death (at least one kind of death, possibly several kinds). In witty verses, Joe tells us about becoming a gigolo: She was sinking fast; I threw a rope. Now I have suits-- And she has hope. It seemed an elegant solution. One day, this must end;  It isn't real. Still, I'll enjoy a hearty meal-- Before tomorrow's execution. It's the bridge that ups the stakes; Joe admits to us that he is not coolly disengaged from the events of his life. In a way, he has feelings for Norma. If I'm honest

 I hadn't known this one year ago, but a kind of "conquer-your-fear" therapy exists for four-year-olds. My son spent the summer in an informal "social anxiety camp," conducted within our home. The playdates were like medicine. I could rarely predict how Josh would behave. One day, an entire party seemed to be occurring in our living room, and my son wanted to sit in a quiet corner and eat macaroni and cheese. Another time, he seemed to infer that the presence of guests required a kind of "social labor," but he spent all of the hour socializing with his little sister, and only his little sister. Did this count as progress? I myself like to be entombed in a silent, empty house, for hours and hours, so the summer required work from me, as well. There were rewards. I became enthralled by the saga of "the surly au pair" -- a young person just down the road, who seemed to be contending with a possible "failure to thrive." Also, my spouse

 There is a scene in "The Cruelest Month" that nicely illustrates what I dislike about Louise Penny's writing. Armand Gamache, the hero, is watching his little grandson. The grandson walks too close to a pond. Armand stands to correct the error, and his wife stops him. "Don't," she says. "That is your son's job now." Touched by this feedback, Armand kisses his wife, in a reverent way. "Thank you," he whispers. He doesn't say the words; he whispers them. All of this reeks of bullshit. Who says a grandparent can't save a small child from drowning? And, in a marriage, even a functional long-term marriage, might one spouse be tempted to say to the other, in a peevish tone, "I wasn't actually seeking any guidance here" --? I sometimes have to take a few deep breaths so that I don't throw the physical object, the book, across the room. That said, I like Penny's use of an omniscient narrator. This feels old-fash

  Sondheim hated intermissions; he felt they sucked energy out of the evening. "Follies," "Passion," and "Assassins" all have (at least) versions that unfold without an intermission. When Sondheim did use an intermission, he tended to use the Hammerstein template. Get to the curtain with a loud crash: "Climb Every Mountain." Start Act II with something sort of disposable, for the people who are still in the restroom (the von Trapp children gather to rehearse a less-than-urgent reprise of the title song). Sondheim's "Sweeney Todd" concludes Act One with a major twist; the two leads commit to a life of cannibalism. The song is witty and canonical--but, curiously, it left Sondheim himself somewhat disappointed. He wanted a bigger bang. In any case, the Act Two opener--"God, That's Good"--beautifully describes a day in the murder house/pie shop (and it's free of substantial emotional moments, again as a tip of the hat

 My twin lives down the road; she is a struggling writer, with two small children. Her high-profile spouse takes frequent work-related trips; when the two argue about this trend, the spouse suggests that the trips are a financial necessity. They are *good* for the family. Since my twin has my own set of interests and liabilities, she gives me little life hacks (perhaps without grasping exactly what she is doing). The Louise Penny mysteries that do *not* unfold in Three Pines are maybe not worth reading.... I can't remember road names, and I have no talent for geography, so I just depend on landmarks. If you do not collaborate with a nanny, then you must buy a family membership to the community pool. It's actually non-negotiable. This is a survival tactic. Here's one thing I've offered, in return. Parenting means that your phone blows up with mysterious contacts--community members you've hired, or considered hiring, then forgotten. The names overlap. Jackie the night

  One thing I appreciate in "The Sopranos" is its use of dramatic irony: the moments when we're aware of twists that have somehow concealed themselves from the major characters. Season Three "resurrects" Big Pussy, in a series of flashbacks; because we know Big Pussy's fate (and Tony does not), the mid-nineties scenes are notably painful. When Big Pussy becomes weirdly territorial about his Santa suit, we understand that the artificial "fat mounds" conceal a wire. At the same time, we can appreciate that Big Pussy is genuinely an excellent Santa; he is a conflicted soul, more complicated than the 2-D image his friends carry in their heads. In a parallel subplot, we're made aware of Charmaine Bucco's disdain for Tony (but the Sopranos do not know about this disdain). Then, having seen her own life crumble, Charmaine decides to "drop the mask" in Tony's presence. She calls him something lower than dirt. Carmela--having noticed T

  Everyone knows about Marie's Crisis--the occasional celebrity cameos, the rich sense of history, the sense of solidarity, etc.--but not everyone notes MC's role as a "kingmaker." I'm not as interested in the bar as my spouse is, but a recent visit made me more fully aware of a certain shrine. Scattered around the bar are photos of prominent divas: Bernadette, Patti, Audra, Gwen Verdon, Chita Rivera, Angela Lansbury, Julie Andrews, Carol Channing, Judy Garland, Liza Minnelli. Here is my question. Are we celebrating musicals, or are we celebrating  movie  musicals? As far as I can see, Judy Garland never appeared in a Broadway musical. Julie Andrews did two--then she turned her back on Broadway for thirty years. After thirty years, she appeared in a mediocre show, and threw a tacky, public tantrum when the show did not earn the nominations she felt it was entitled to. ("Entitled" is the key word there.) I guess it's fine to enshrine movie legends in