The Higher Power of Lucky

I was reading Publishers Weekly yesterday and discovered to my surprise that there is flap brewing regarding the new Newberry Award Winner, Susan Patron's The Higher Power of Lucky. Since I just finished reading it and thought it sweet I was rather stymied about what could possibly be offensive. Turns out there are schools and libraries who are refusing to carry it because it contains one word.

Reading that you are probably thinking does this kids book drop the F-bomb? What the hell? No, the word in question is scrotum.

That's right, scrotum.

As in the pouch of skin containing the testicles.

As in the line (from page one no less) "Sammy told of the day when he had drunk half a gallon of rum listening to Johnny Cash all morning in his parked '62 Caddy and fallen out of the car when he saw a rattlesnake on the passenger seat biting his dog, Roy, on the scrotum."

That's right, it's not even a human scrotum in question. Librarians are going to deny young readers access to the book judged the best of 2006 because of one line about dog anatomy. Yeah, that makes sense.

Now I'm no parent but I'm pretty sure that most 8-12 year olds (the intended age group for this book) already know what a scrotum is and if they didn't probably wouldn't be too tramatized by discovering its meaning. And after having read the book myself there are so many more things to talk about with kids reading it-all the 12 step horror stories Lucky overhears at her job cleaning up the local meeting hall (many far more harrowing than poor Sammy's), her search for a Higher Power to give her life stability (a concept she picks up from those same meetings) and the terrifying accident that has left her motherless and thus in need of stability-to name just a few.

Is The Higher Power of Lucky the best Newberry winner I've ever read? No, but it's worthy of that gold seal and should be allowed to find a readership not afraid of a single word.

Dear AMG

As part of my redoubled efforts to find new employment I was preparing my resume and writing samples tonight to send to AMG (All Media Guide for those not in the know) and my frustration level was high. You have to be professional in these things. When the recipients have no frame of reference for you it's important to come across right, unlike this blog which I fear occasionally comes across like Laurie Notaro in a "This American Life" outtake. The goal is to get a foot in the door, to get an interview where you can really dazzle 'em. But music is such a integral personal thing for me I find it difficult to write about bloodlessly(or without lots of gestures which I don't all have emoticons for). Not to say the AMG reviews are bloodless, they have personality which is one thing that makes me want the gig, but you don't really get to do that so much when your just applying for the job. So, these are some of the things I wanted to say to recommend myself but didn't:


The first song I remember is Steve Miller Band's "Fly Like an Eagle". I was in my plastic pool with my mom. She was wearing her green bikini with the white daisies and I'm pretty sure I was doing some sort of dance/splash combo. I was 2 years old.

My parents had wildly different musical tastes so I am equally familiar with both the entire Barry Manilow canon and the ouevre of Dr Hook, especially their early songs written by the great Shel Silverstein. When my dad dared leave off "The Magical Soup Stone" from a greatest hits CD he burned for my brother and me we both gave him hell. Many years after their heyday hearing their singer Dennis Locorriere singing behind John Hiatt on "Feels Like Rain" was like finding a missing photo of some long lost family member.

I read liner notes and dedications religiously and could have an entire conversation on what it means that James McMurtry's girlfriend's name keeps moving around in his notes from album to album.

When I got married our processional was Vangelis' "Hymne", the recessional was the theme to "Raiders of the Lost Ark" (we got married in a movie theatre). My ex & I were also in a band with some of my co-workers-I played tambourine, cowbell and the vibroslap all of which I still harbor an extreme fondness for. I also sang on "Great Balls of Fire" and did a very saucy take on "Brand New Key".

I have a moderate to severe case of musical Tourette's which, given the right setup, causes me to blurt lyrics in the middle of otherwise nonmusical conversations. Over the years I have managed to modulate my voice when doing it so it doesn't frighten quite so often.

I believe that Hothouse Flowers' "I'm Sorry" is the best musical apology and that in a pinch Lucinda Williams' "Essence" could be used in lieu of K-Y Jelly.

In addition to the above mentioned instruments I also have a weakness for toy piano, Jim Steinman, nonsense words sung repeatedly, The Alan Parsons Project, the stories of Harry Chapin and songs with really slow buildups. I dislike too long solos, annoying intros or codas that have nothing to do with the rest of the song and almost all songs that spell things.


In closing I would add that of all the things that baffle me about other people the non music folks throw me the most. Not liking books or movies-well, okay, whatever but music reaches so deep I think those who don't partake must have a big hole inside. I truly don't get that. And that might be my best qualification of all.

Kismet in Action

As readers of this blog know I am a big fan of Megan Abbott's The Song is You. So much so after writing about it the last time I searched to see if she had an online home where I might reach her. Indeed she has a fine website with the all important Contact Me button. I e-mailed telling her, though she scarcely seems to need it, that there was more praise to be found here for both her book and her fine author photo, which manages to look like both Patty Griffin and Sylvia Plath-quite the trick. She e-mailed back pleased to be on the same page as Ron Jeremy and said she hoped I would come to her local events, mere days away. (Turns out she's originally from Michigan.) Then the next day I log on to find I have a new comment on the blog which turns out to be from Megan's mom! She was Googling her daughter's name and book title and came across me. She also encouraged me to come to the events but asked that I not tell Megan how I found out. (sorry Mom)

How fun is that? Mom trying to get butts in the seats for her girl. That such a sleazy book is giving me the warm fuzzies is funnier still. I'm having a great time at this event and it hasn't even started yet!

Another Great Entrepreneurial Idea II

Netflix. YouTube. Now I am not the most technologically up to date ( basically I am a techie on a Luddite budget) but it seems like there's a missing piece there. Color me Steve Jobs but where is the song sending program? If you have the right equipment you can download it, record it, copy it or buy it-why not be able to send it? Yes, there is always a mix CD-that is absolutely the best gift in my universe, especially when it comes with prodigious liner notes but I'm thinking of the song more as an aural greeting card. Kind of like if you were in the record store and could grab somebody by the wrist, drag them to the listening station and clamp the headphones over their ears. Then they'd start to dance and talk too loudly cause they had the headphones on and it would be a great moment.

Sometimes it needs to happen that fast.

When I hear that Carrie & Thor have set the date I wanna send them the Cowboy Junkies' "Anniversary Song" ("but I'll trade it all/for a cup of coffee and a wedding ring") without actually having to burn a CD or calling and saying "Do you have any Cowboy Junkies? Play Track 2! From me!"

And yes, I know there are greeting cards with little chips in them that actually play a song, their commercials are very cute, but the odds of me needing to send a someone I know "Wild Thing" are well, remote. Now if they had my choice of artist, no matter how obscure, then you'd be talking. But that's kind of where my thought train gets derailed. I think e-mail? Old school listening booths? and my brain starts to spin.

So if one of you inventor types could get on that for us all, that'd be great. I kinda have one in mind so...yeah, lemme know when you're done. Thanks!

Thinking About Ioan

When we saw "Sweet Land" yesterday we also saw a preview for the new film "Amazing Grace" and I'm afraid it has got me in a bit of a lather. "Amazing Grace" tells the story of William Wilberforce, the British abolitionist, and his friend, a former slaveholder, who composed the famous hymn. It's not a big budget blockbuster but it is poised to be the new "Christian" film on the block, one that its makers hope will have congregations flocking to see it. I, too, am looking forward to it keenly but not for the same reasons.

No, my reasons are quite the opposite. When I look at it I see *sex* because it stars (hubba hubba) the Welsh actor, Ioan Gruffudd.

To go all ga ga girly-he's dreamy. (insert Eartha Kitt growl here)


To satisfy my movie crush lust I have:

-repeatedly watched an A&E miniseries and wrote the network demanding more ("Horatio Hornblower" or as Halle Barry infamously said "Horatio the Hornblower")
-suffered through an annoying superhero movie ("Fantastic Four")
-slogged through an earnest retelling of Romeo & Juliet half in Welsh, half in Yiddish ("Solomon & Gaenor")
-ordered a BBC miniseries on VHS which I had to have transferred to play in my American VCR ("Warriors")
-taped a weird 'lawyers in the future' show, which was not surprisingly, short lived ("Century City"


and even

-fastforwarded through the non Ioan parts of a sequel to a Disney remake ("102 Dalmations")

Hell, I look through all the fashion mags every month just to see if there's a new Burberry ad because he & Rachel Wietz are the models in their current campaign. Now I could make a very compelling arguement that he's actually a fine actor but I'm not even going to try. So when all you good church going folk are lining up this weekend, I'll be lining up with you and the smile on my face won't be cause I'm thinking about the abolishment of slavery.

Oscar Bait vs Art House Charmers

We saw so few movies last year, thanks to Netflix and Tiger baseball, that we're way behind in our Oscar nominee viewing. To help remedy that and give us something to talk about at the party we saw "Last King of Scotland" yesterday.

I have been a Forest Whitaker fan since "Fast Times at Ridgemont High" so I have been pleased at this film's success for his sake but I must say after seeing it it seems like it will be consigned to that honorable if underviewed category known as Oscar bait. You know the kind-seen once, well praised, never watched again and only discussed when playing the Oscar edition of Scene It or Trivial Pursuit. Other notable examples from this heap include "Children of a Lesser God", "The Accidental Tourist" or "The Crying Game".

Whitaker's performance aside there is little to recommend this movie. It's not bad by any means but it has little or no repeatability. The gruesome torture scene (think "A Man Called Horse" goes to Uganda) was brutal but the change in tone, necessary given the story, was to me even harder to watch. There is also the matter of yet another black story with the obligatory white protaganist. I know the character is a composite of several whites who actually helped Amin and that it's based on a British novel that won the Whitbread Prize but when it's just the newest in a long line that doesn't make it go down any easier.

Far better and unfortunately destined for no awards (outside the Hamptons Film Festival at least) was today's selection, "Sweet Land". A tender story of a German mail order bride who came to the Minnesota prairie at the end of World War I as remembered by her grandson, now charged with handling her estate after her death, I can't recommend "Sweet Land" enough. Moviegoers who would like to be charmed should hurry to see it as it seems destined for short engagements. Some might call it the new "Days of Heaven" but it's more soulful and spirited than that Malick classic (during which I fell asleep-a serious loss of movie snob points there), it reminded me more of another unsung 'woman goes to the frontier' movie , "Heartland". I would watch "Sweet Land" again, especially when feeling small or that things might not really turn out okay whereas after toasting Forest Whitaker's likely win, I would never want to watch "Last King of Scotland" again.

The Last Temptation of Harry Potter

Well, it's official. We have a date for the next (and last) Harry Potter, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Time to crank up the publicity machine and get to rereading the other six books.

I'm no kid but I love the Harry Potter books because they remind me of being a young bookworm who would get in trouble for reading with a flashlight under the covers long after I was supposed to be asleep. I just open one of Rowling's books and I'm right back there again. They are rollicking good fun and I, like all the rest of the Muggles, simultaneously cannot wait for July 21 and am dreading the last page turn when the knowledge sinks in there won't be any more.

Borders' reserve campaign is built around the question, "Snape Friend or Foe?" which is as good a question to ponder while you wait as any. Myself, since I believe Harry is a messianic figure who should die in some noble self sacrifical way (Let's be clear, I don't want Harry to die but messiahs must, it's in the job description. And if 'you know who' is really as bad as purported what else could stop him except the greatest sacrifice?) that would make Snape his Judas.

Now when I say Judas I mean it in the "Last Temptation" way of interpreting the Passion featured in Nikos Kazantzakis' book and Martin Scorcese's film where Judas is actually the greatest of the disciples. Greatest because in those tellings the most is asked of him. Jesus must be betrayed in order to give his life for mankind and the betrayal here is deeper and more anguish filled than in your traditional selling him for 30 pieces of silver retelling. In "The Last Temptation" Judas is actually more like a hero from Greek or Shakespearean tragedy where the tragic figure's personality leads them inexorably to their fated end. Judas is the most active of the disciples, questioning and testing Jesus constantly. His desire to believe is as great as his fear of being duped and the two are at war inside him. In the end he does what he does out of the greatest, albeit misguided, love. It is a far more interesting portrayal and is what made the whole thing so different and potentially controversial, at least to me. That Jesus should have had other fantasies and dreams about how things might have been was no surprise in my mind-if you believe he was both wholly human and wholly divine how could it be otherwise?

So that's my theory. I know I'm totally geeking but if you can't geek about Harry Potter what can you geek about? Not knowing any spells for getting an advance copy, I'll have to wait and see like everybody else.


Oh, and another thing-if Book 7 ends with a ghosts on a log scene like the end of the third "Star Wars" movie (original trilogy please, I never watched anything past JarJar Binks) Ms Rowling and I are going round and round.

Standing Up for Ron Jeremy

I was shocked to discover today that in the new, lavishly illustrated autobiography of porn star Ron Jeremy, The Hardest (Working) Man in Showbiz, there is not one photo of his penis.

I know cause I looked.

This shocked me.

It's kinda like having a Kennedy assassination movie and not using the Zapruder film. To not feature the attraction that made the man famous enough to have a published autobiography in the first place seems wrong, especially in comparison to the Jenna Jamison book of a few years ago where it seemed every other page was Jenna in all her glory.

It was not exactly text heavy.

Doesn't Mr Jeremy, star of over 2000 movies, deserve the same treatment? I think so.

It's Not Global Warning, It's the Apocalypse!

I just read on Sarah Weinman's blog that there's a new Hardy Boys movie forthcoming. It's called "The Hardy Men" and is to star Tom Cruise and Ben Stiller as the Hardy Boys all grown up. Apparently Frank and Joe were estranged but now must reunite in order to solve their greatest mystery to date.

Excuse me?

!?!?!?!?!?

Gee, maybe Jack Black is available to play Chet...

The Song is You

Since I couldn't lay my hands on a promo copy I actually had to buy The Song is You, the Megan Abbott mystery I had read so much about. (What can I say? When you sleep with a book buyer you wake up with books-I'm accustomed to having my reading needs satisfied for free.)

The Song is You is the story of Hollywood's "other Dahila", Jean Spangler, who went missing in 1949. Though various theories were floated-botched back alley abortion, Mob ties-the mystery of her disappearance has never been solved. That leaves the field wide open for fiction-apparently there's another Spangler book in the works as well.

Abbot's book introduces us to Gil "Hop" Hopkins, a studio publicity man whose skill at publicityese and lack of personal scruples makes him a misbehaving star's morning after best friend. For Hop, the Spangler mess just won't go away until, in fine noir tradition, he must solve the mystery or get dragged down by it.

The Song is You is trashy, squalid and sordid. It's LA Confidential without the cops, The Black Dahlia without the body. It will make you crave a shower like too many page turns of Kenneth Anger's Hollywood Babylon. In short, I thought it a terrific book.

Add This to Your Vernacular

It's kind of mean and I have no room to talk (Though I never drove 900 miles in a diaper to pepper spray a rival I have worshipped at the altar of boneheaded romance many times.) I think we should add the expression "jealous like an astronaut" to our American vernacular.

Go ahead, just try it.

Accidentally Accurately Pegged or A Moneypenny in a Pussy Galore World

A few weeks ago I when my Bond reboot fever was at its zenith during an e-mail exchange with another fan I was called Moneypenny. It was a good snappy line that made me laugh a long time but when I stopped laughing and started thinking about it I wondered-isn't it kind of an insult to be called Moneypenny?

Now I realize the person writing was only trying for a witty e-mail and meant no offense but when you're a champion overthinker with a commute..things pop in there.

(Annoying sidenote with more snappy e-banter

When I was explaining to another friend how the pleasure of the e-mail was somewhat tempered by being dubbed Moneypenny he wrote "at least he didn't call you Oddjob" to which I responded "that's only cause he hasn't seen my hat collection".)

As any Bond fan knows Moneypenny never gets the guy, in fact she never leaves the office except to go, humiliatingly as her boss' date, to see the guy marry someone else. Yes, James does flirt with her every time he's in but that's about it. Then there's the name-solid, dependable, not flashy. Not Pussy Galore, not Honey Ryder-Moneypenny.

Yep, that's me all over.

In the myraid of ways the world can be divided Bond girl or Moneypenny is but one and the e-mail got it right. Unless there's some Bond girl I'm unaware of who wears glasses and is called Booksy I am definately, depressingly, a Moneypenny.

Except it's worse since at least Moneypenny gets flirted with and that rarely happens to me. (I mean serious, unmistakable, full contact flirting not just pleasant conversation-I have pleasant conversations with men every day. Especially with tradesmen, for some reason I'm big with the tradesmen.) By that measure I have been flirted with 2 times in the past 5 years. Hell, my friend Marla probably got flirted with twice while I was writing that sentence. It's true I run with a pretty crowd (I was once introduced as the smart one) but those are some sad numbers.

Now I'm not complaining (too loudly)-though we never know how Moneypenny ended up, it is true that you never see one of those Bond girls twice. Like being model thin or well shod some things just aren't going to happen and people should play to their strengths. Not to say I'm going begging, there's always a place for a bright funny girl it's just not center stage or in James Bond's arms.

A Cheery Word for a Bad Day

Sometimes when the day is a struggle I have to hold something in my mind. It can either be a treat to look forward to or a thought that makes me smile or at least want to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

Today it was a word.

That word was befrogged.

As in Wistawa Szymborska's poem "Allegro Ma Non Troppo" which is as "gee whiz the world is great" a poem I know. The first stanza goes

"Life, you're beautiful (I say)
you just couldn't get more fecund,
more befrogged or nightengaley,
more anthillful or sproutsprouting."

Today I am no where near sproutsprouting but befrogged, well, that made me smile.