Bookpusher

Via Matthew Yglesias: who played at the first concert you ever attended?

My first concert was a triple bill at Sandstone: Cracker, the Gin Blossoms, and the Spin Doctors. 1993, I think. I went for Cracker and the Blossoms and left shortly afterward. The crew I went with had lawn seats and the smell of ganja that hung over the crowd was, shall we say, potent.

(What, you thought the subject referred to something else?)

Special thanks to everyone who came out to the KC Blogger Book Group last night – much fun was had, as well as some excellent discussion. I’m taking solicitations for the next book to read and discuss, and if you have any suggestions, send ‘em my way.

The book itself is a sprawling novel about the residents of a Jewish neighborhood in Chicago as the 1970s were drawing to a close and the 1980s were just beginning. In what can be described as a print version of a Robert Altman flick, there are no main characters to focus on or who drive the narrative – characters wander in and out of the frame, connect with secondary characters, who then go onto meet other people in the neighborhood, and everything seems to circle ’round back again. Even though the book is focused on the residents of a particular neighborhood, this novel is all about boundaries. The “California” of the title refers to a dividing line between the working-class and middle-class sections of the neighborhood. As characters cross California Street, they enter into a similar yet very different world. Race is a large dividing line as well; the traditionally Jewish neighborhood is defensive about inroads made by other minorities, and a not-so-subtle thread of racism runs through several characters as they see their beloved community change.

If you like fleshed-out characters, this is certainly the book for you – Crossing California has a cast of what seems like thousands, each one well-cared for, and the book is tremendously thick with plots for each and every one of them. Most of the characters are Jewish high-schoolers focused on sex, pot, school, alcohol, their futures, music, sex and pot – think of the film “Dazed and Confused” as told by Philip Roth. Adults are present, and in most cases they are just as hapless and as searching for meaning as the kids are. Crossing California is a coming-of-age novel, but don’t think of it as a serious one; there are several bitingly funny passages and situations.

One thing the novel does not do is tie everything up in a bow for you – things are often left ambiguous and uncertain, just like in real life, which may not be satisfying if you want that sort of thing out of your literature. My opinions of several characters changed while I was reading – again, like in real life.

I liked Crossing California, but I didn’t love it, however it has much to recommend it.

We’re meeting on Tuesday at Harry’s County Club in the River Market (112 Missouri Avenue) around 7ish to discuss the book.

Hope to see you there!

As always, the best player didn’t win, and even more so this season, since between Parvati and Amanda, Amanda clearly was the better overall player.

Amanda lost it, I think, at the final tribal council, where she was exhausted and her focus was obviously lacking. She didn’t make her case for victory at all, never mentioning her several challenge wins and the only successful use of the hidden immunity idol in the game, qualities which should have easily secured her the million dollars. She seemed like she just wanted the whole thing over with, only showing signs of life when Ozzy declared his love for her on national TV.

Parv, on the other hand, won mostly because of her flirting skill and her hand in voting Ozzy out. She sucked in challenges and rode coattails the whole way through. I haven’t seen the reunion show yet, but I can only assume it’s either an hour of Ozzy/Amanda lovefest or an hour of raking poor, naive, deluded Erik over the coals for his staggeringly boneheaded play.

I’ve had my eye on Sex with Kings for a while – I became a huge fan of history since the first week of Western Civ as a college freshman when I realized that history isn’t just tedium comprised of names and dates. History is a living thing, made up of people like you and me, just in different cultures, circumstances, and outfits. One of my all-time favorite history novels is A World Lit Only By Fire by William Manchester, who de-mythologizes the Renaissance and makes history into something fun and vibrant. And he goes into detail about all the orgies the popes had at the time, too.

Along that same line is Sex with Kings by Elanor Lipman. Here, the author goes into the royal bedroom and writes about the lives of royal mistresses across a broad range of European history. Since kings had that aura of divine right – up until around the time of the French Revolution, anyway – the taking of mistresses was considered a royal perk, a bit distasteful but necessary, something to be tolerated by the queen and for the court to snicker about behind her back. Lipman refers to official documents and diaries of the time, making it an exhaustively researched book instead of simple titillation. The stories of kings and courts of nonexistent nations does get a bit overwhelming at times, but Lipman goes beyond an encyclopedic listing of affairs and writes about the life of a mistress, what was expected of her, how queens and court reacted to them, what the mistresses’ husbands got out of the deal, and how the position of royal mistress – no pun intended – changed over time.

If you’re a fan of history, it’s fascinating stuff. And don’t worry, ladies, Lipman wrote a sequel chronicling the other side of the bedroom in Sex with the Queen.

A nearly flawless summer popcorn flick that actually lives up to expectations, Iron Man is the most fun I’ve had at the movies for a good long while and easily one of the highlights of the young summer season.

(Minor spoilers ahead, obviously.)

I’m not going to add much to what’s already been written about the flick: due to the slick visual style supplied by director Jon Faverau, an excellent script that keeps things humming along, and solid supporting work by Oscar veterans Terrence Howard, Jeff Bridges, and Gwyneth Paltrow, Iron Man didn’t need Robert Downey Jr to carry the film, but then he went ahead and put it on his shoulders anyway. His performance is cracking with energy and life at every step. It’s been said elsewhere that Iron Man will do for RDJ what Pirates of the Caribbean did for Johnny Depp: take a talented and respected niche actor and elevate him to the top of the A-list. Go ahead and bank on it – RDJ’s been one of Hollywood’s best-kept secrets for a long while.

Besides the acting talent, what impresses be about the film is that Iron Man really isn’t a superhero movie, even though it clearly is. The reason why superheroes took so long to get the Hollywood treatment is neatly summed up by my parents, who have thus far refused to see a movie adapted from a comic book because of what I call the Union Suit problem: no matter how you portray it, it all boils down to someone putting on a funny-looking costume to fight crime. People like my parents can’t overlook that. Even Batman Begins, which treated the Batman origin story with care and style, still had the hero end up in a funny-looking costume.

Iron Man doesn’t have this problem: Tony Stark, tech genius and military weapons manufacturer, sees the error of his ways and builds the suit not to fight crime, not to uphold truth, justice, and the American way, but to personally undo the damage his weapons have caused. The creation of the suit is the ultimate expression of the character’s personal change through the course of the film and makes perfect sense given the character.

A quick note: you might have read about a special bonus scene at the end of the closing credits – it’s really not worth your while unless you’re a die-hard comic book fan. It lasts only about twenty seconds and can be found out by a quick Google search. All it does is set up the sequels, when you know will be coming. And I’ll certainly be looking forward to them.

And after a rough-ass semester, really, that’s all that needs to be said.

Posting, which has been pretty much nonexistent ’round these parts except for the KC Blogger Book Group stuff, will resume shortly. Until then, check out Kissing Suzy Kolber’s rare foray into politics, which is seven kinds of funny and should be done more often.

Also, I’ve recently become a huge fan of Todd Alcott, a screenwriter who blogs about the film industry. Anybody with two brain cells to rub together can tell you that Raiders of the Lost Ark is a good film, but folks like Alcott can tell you why it’s a good film, which is what makes his blog fascinating. He’s done recent postings on Stephen Spielberg and the Coen brothers that are absolutely worth your while – just keep scrolling back.