Liars and Saints

  Beverly Cleary's gift was for paying very close attention to children. She had respect for a kid's emotional life; she recognized that this life was not substantially different from an *adult's* emotional life. When Ramona Quimby is old enough to think about her Halloween costume, she has a brief panic attack. She considers the possibility that no one around her will recognize her. If she isn't recognized, is she still Ramona? I remember this sometimes when I'm dealing with social anxiety; the fact that a fear isn't rational doesn't help to erase the fear. Ramona listens to a fight between her parents and wrestles with the possible implications; she launches a campaign to end her depressed father's smoking habit. She also struggles with boundaries; when another child wears her hair in "boing boing curls," Ramona discovers that she cannot control her own roving fingers. If you have ever engaged in Facebook stalking, then you have walked in Ram...

 Liana Finck is a brilliant writer and illustrator with a journey story. She "follows the fairytale." She goes off to live in a castle ("Apartment 5B") and has a child who teaches her to embrace "fish sticks, playgrounds, other customs of the kingdom." But she soon finds herself doing battle with her spouse. The spouse never leaves work early when the school nurse calls. The spouse seems helpless in the kitchen, and he allows an open carton of eggs to rot on the dining room floor. Liana has a standard approach to a problem, which is to name it, point it out, let the air out if its tires. When she found herself playing hostage to her own social anxiety, she began announcing, "I have social anxiety." She started to laugh about it. And the social anxiety went away. But this approach doesn't work in marriage. Liana repeatedly notes herself shouting, "You are what is wrong with the world! You are a symbol of the patriarchy!" And--instead...

  A writer once proposed a rule for life: Read fiction about dastardly schemers, and read non-fiction about heroes. I don't know why this should be valuable advice, but it generally works for me. I can't quite read "The Wager," because I expect I will be reading about crummy people. But "Everything Was Possible," about the dreams of Sondheim and Michael Bennett, does appeal to me. If you write memoirs, you have to be a fairly decent person--because readers are always going to be judging your *soul* and not just your talent. And you have to tell the truth. Evasiveness is easily spotted, and it's not appealing. One thing I like about Liana Finck is that she imagines herself as two people: the actor, in the fetal position, and also the character, beaming in an inoffensive way. "Sometimes, a bland smile is your best defense." I personally use my bland smile in school meetings, in work exchanges, when an acquaintance tells a weird, unfunny story tha...

 Liana Finck has said that she does not draw because of a "talent"--but because she has to. You can sense subtext underneath her little panels:  I don't care that this isn't pretty. I don't care that it's not conventionally "accomplished." I'm doing this for myself. Like many other great artists, Finck feels ill at ease on the planet. She is tired about various inane conversations with regard to parenting. Here is how she describes the situation: Someone will say, "Whoa, ho, ho! It gets easier!" A line leads to the next fellow citizen, who says, "You think this is hard? Just wait till she can WALK!" A line then leads to a next comment: "It gets easier!" Followed by a new observation: "This hardship is NOTHING! Just wait till she can WALK!" And so on.   Finck generally seems to be telling the truth--not aiming for sentimentality, not aiming for sound bytes. She is good company, at least in her newest book.

  Almost every time I file an insurance claim for my child, the insurance company (a true "Cadillac") loses the claim, incorrectly processes the claim, or fails to upload the claim. I submit all of my spouse's claims, but because I am of "the second sex," and this is the year 1923, I cannot actually see what happens to these claims. My spouse has to check the status. But the email address he submitted--the address for receiving a "background verification" password--is now inactive. So he has no access to the special password, and cannot check what happens to his claims. I sometimes offer to hold his hand if he would be willing to wage this particular war with the insurance company--but (I think) I don't offer enough. So: I'm tipping my hat to the cartoonist Liana Finck. You can see the influence of Roz Chast here. In the featured panel, Finck tells the truth about insurance companies--and she does it in a fresh, dry way. I especially like the ...