Amid worldwide protests against police brutality, with American cities looking worse every night, it feels a bit trivial to be writing about the iconiAmid worldwide protests against police brutality, with American cities looking worse every night, it feels a bit trivial to be writing about the iconic Marilyn Monroe, but the fact is, I was glued to this book, and I’ve been looking forward to reviewing it. More than that, I think Norma Jean’s life has a lot to teach about the experience of prejudice. Granted, she didn’t face the lethal kind that killed George Floyd and other victims of police brutality, but she was typecast and underestimated, and she suffered for it all her life.
The book covers the fourteen months in which Marilyn bucked her studio contract and left Hollywood for New York so she could study the Stanislavski method at the Actor’s Studio. It was a year of defiance, creativity, and growth, which makes it an inspiring story, except she’d lapse into insecurity and alcohol abuse, so tragically, she couldn’t maintain it. Because the book covers such a short period, it’s worthwhile to go into it with some knowledge of her full biography. The podcast “You Must Remember This” helped me. It devoted several episodes to her life story. The movie “My Week with Marilyn” also provides good background. The personal story within the movie might be fictionalized, but I trust Hollywood to accurately record film history. The backdrop is the filming of “The Prince and the Showgirl” with Sir Laurence Olivier, which figures in at the end of this book. What "My Week with Marilyn" failed to mention is that Marilyn Monroe produced the movie herself.
The book portrays Marilyn as far more intellectual than most people gave her credit for. Though she had a poor education in her early years, having been a ward of the state in and out of orphanages and foster homes, she became an autodidact, reading voraciously to make up for what she missed. She loved Dostoevsky, Joyce, Freudian psychology, biographies of iconoclastic women, and even dabbled in Einstein’s theories. She was also a great admirer of Abraham Lincoln, and the book includes an anecdote about her participation in a publicity event held in his honor in some small town in Illinois. In keeping with her “dumb blonde” image, she brought along an illustrated children’s biography for her presentation, but she was actually reading something much more substantive to inform her speech.
And that is the tragic irony of Marilyn Monroe. She had to play the part of the dumb blonde to reach stardom, but when she was ready to take the next step of becoming a serious actress, too many people simply couldn’t accept it. Lee and Paula Strasberg of the Actors’ Studio believed she had great talent, whereas Billy Wilder, who directed her in some of her better roles, believed she was more than a dumb blonde, but still thought she shouldn’t reach too high. When Sir Laurence Olivier was willing to work with her, she thought she had reached the peak. Getting her own choice of directors was one of her main goals in her contract war. So it was a crushing disappointment to discover that just like most of Hollywood, all Olivier wanted was the same old sexpot.
The book convinced me that Marilyn was very smart, but like so many artists, her intelligence was of an unconventional, off-beat sort. She could delve into a character with the depth that the Method teaches, but sustaining that kind of energy, emotion, and concentration doesn’t leave a whole lot of brain space for practical living. She was notoriously late for appointments and filming, sloppy in her housekeeping, and could barely cook for herself. She lived in the dreamy world of an artist, so she was spacey. But spacey doesn't equal stupid, even though it's often perceived that way. I never considered myself a particular fan of Marilyn Monroe, but that's changed now that I’ve read this book. I relate to her both as a woman and an artist. Many of us plain women appreciate her life story because it proves that beauty doesn't lead to love and happiness, but it's really her disciplined approach to her craft that I admire most. I’m a writer, not an actress, but I know that I turn into a total space cadet when my writing is going well. That is why the biographer’s observation that artists function in a “dream world” spoke to me so much.
Another similarity I share with her is my babyish voice. I’d say that was half her problem. The voice was part of the dumb blonde act. It wasn’t just the tight-fitting clothes. I’m sure it’s half the reason people don’t take me seriously. (The other is that I’m Ultra-Orthodox.) So every time Marilyn gave some cold retort to someone for talking to her like she was an idiot, I cheered. But best of all was knowing that Marilyn was a bookworm like us Goodreaders! She preferred staying home and reading to going to parties. She also kept journals, which I intend to read someday. Well, all good actresses care about literature and storytelling. She studied art history, too, to gain an understanding of the visual aesthetics to apply to her film image.
Many would describe this as a book about a pivotal year in Norma Jean’s life, which it is, but I say it’s more than that. It’s a glimpse into her creative process at its peak. I’d go so far as to call it an intellectual history of Marilyn Monroe. So if you like Hollywood history, or if you’re a female artist yourself, I highly recommend this book. I haven’t read that much about Marilyn Monroe, but I daresay this biography is something unique....more
“The Wizard of Oz” movie was my very first fandom. I was obsessed with it. I felt like I was Dorothy, and as author Elizabeth Letts points out in her “The Wizard of Oz” movie was my very first fandom. I was obsessed with it. I felt like I was Dorothy, and as author Elizabeth Letts points out in her afterword, thousands if not millions of other girls felt exactly the same. So if you’re one of those people, this book is for you.
Letts has written non-fiction as well as fiction, and while researching Maud Baum, the wife of Oz creator L. Frank Baum, she came across this picture:
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That’s Maud, a widow in her late seventies, with Judy Garland while the movie was in production. The book imagines the relationship behind that picture. The strong-willed Maud goes to the movie set to protect her late husband’s vision and ends up protecting Judy Garland, who is being simultaneously built up and crushed down by Hollywood’s star-making machinery. The chapters jump around in time from 1939 to Maud’s marriage to the charismatic Frank through all its ups and downs, from falling in love to the lean times to the book’s publication. Maud was the daughter of suffragette Matilda Gage, contemporary and friend of Susan B. Anthony and Elizabeth Cady Stanton. She was no shrinking violet. She was very much an equal partner in her marriage.
The tie-ins between Frank and Maud’s life and features in the Oz universe are all delightful, but the most beautiful by far are about who Dorothy is and the significance of the rainbow. That’ll get fans sighing. But as so often happens with historical fiction, my skeptical mind kept wondering, “Is that really true or did she just make it up for the sake of her story?” Because Letts has also written non-fiction, I trust her more than the run-of-the-mill historical novelist, but I won’t be satisfied until I’ve followed up with at least one of the sources she cites in her afterword.
If you loved “The Wizard of Oz,” you will love this book. Its uniqueness is that it’s written from Maud’s perspective. Frank was the artist, so he got all the attention. He still does; there are plenty of biographies available on his life and work. But as Paul Simon once said about relationships amongst creative people: every flower needs a gardener. Maud was that gardener. Her story, however fictionalized, deserves to be known. I’m glad she is getting some of her due....more
Decades before Stephen King wrote On Writing, his famous book on craft, he wrote this book, which is specifically about the craft of horror writing, tDecades before Stephen King wrote On Writing, his famous book on craft, he wrote this book, which is specifically about the craft of horror writing, though it can also be read as a history of the genre. He doesn’t just limit his retrospective to books either; movies, TV classics like “The Twilight Zone,” and even radio plays are all in here. I loved every insight he gave on the writing process and the breakdown of the emotion of fear. Terror, horror, and gross-outs are three separate things, explains the master of scariness. Terror is all psychological, horror is about crossing boundaries, and we all know what a gross-out is. Terror is the ideal, but King says he’s not above the gross-out where necessary.
The book did have two flaws. First, whenever he went on about some movie I’d never heard of, I grew bored. Since he’s such a master storyteller, I stuck with those parts because I knew a good personal story would eventually follow, but if you’re not a big horror fan, some parts of this book will probably bore you, too. Second, the book is dated. It was written in the 1980’s. But datedness has its own charm, so I’ll focus on that for the rest of this review.
The fun thing about datedness is that you get to see the author’s old perspective in light of what you know now. For example, King discusses 1970’s science fiction movies about environmental apocalypse. They still make movies on that theme today, but now that we’re nearer the crisis, the tone is even more dire, and the subject is more likely to be taken up by journalists than fiction writers. The same goes for Arab terrorism. The Ayatollah Khomeini of Iran was the big threat when this book was written, but even the dark imagination of Stephen King didn’t foresee 9/11.
The differences in his personal life were even more interesting. He refers to his seven-year-old son Joe a few times in the book, and it made me chuckle. But the best part was in his attitude toward the film adaptations of his books. At that point, only three had been made: Carrie, 'Salem's Lot, and The Shining. It’s now known that King detested the film version of The Shining, and I completely agree with him. The movie didn’t capture any of the depth of the psychic child at the heart of the story. But his criticism was mild in this book. He said the directors treated his work “fairly,” and he felt “relieved.” But director Rob Reiner tells the story that when he screened “Stand By Me,” for King, at first he was quiet, and then he said he needed to take a walk. When he returned, he said, “That was the first time a movie really captured what I meant in the book.” But that hadn’t happened yet, and he didn’t know how good an adaptation could be. Since he cites Kubrick’s previous movies with admiration, you can understand why he consented to letting the famous director work with his material. He had hopes, and he was disappointed, but he couldn’t express them as fully then. But now that some directors have done his work justice, he can feel the contrast all the more strongly.
If you’re looking for the scary entertainment that Stephen King delivers so masterfully, you won’t find it here. But if you like analysis of craft, whether as a writer or as a horror fan, there’s plenty to gain by reading this book. ...more
Justine Bateman played the character of Mallory in the hit 1980’s TV show “Family Ties,” which means she’s famous amongst Gen Xers like me, but is notJustine Bateman played the character of Mallory in the hit 1980’s TV show “Family Ties,” which means she’s famous amongst Gen Xers like me, but is not necessarily known to younger folk. She is therefore the perfect person to write about the trajectory of fame and how it affects an actor’s life – from the height of stardom through the gradual descent back into ordinary life. Many would say she does nothing but complain in this book, but while I think she cursed way more than was necessary, she also has plenty of valid points to make. She talked about the lack of safety she felt from stalking fans. She talks about the cruel comments about her aging on social media. And most of all, she’s out to let us ordinary folks know that being unknown isn’t such a terrible fate.
As much as I agree with Justine’s overall message, I couldn’t help but think that her fame would have taken shape differently if Mallory had been more an inspiring character. Justine says she loves her, and I suppose every actress should love her character, but to me, she was just the ditzy contrast to the star of the show, Alex P. Keaton. A character like Mallory could never be as beloved as the admirable and brainy Hermione. Look at the fame Emma Watson now enjoys because of her. I think it will last a lifetime, unlike Justine Bateman’s. And even a lesser character can inspire fan devotion. Heck, I’ve followed everything that actress Evanna Lynch has done, all because she played my favorite character, the spiritual Luna Lovegood. Mallory could never generate a fandom like that.
More than that, when an actress plays a ditz, it’s harder for her to get taken seriously in reality. It’s a shame because Justine comes across as a secret academic in this book. She cites sociological theories about fame and human interaction throughout it. She opens it by saying that her first draft was even more academic, but her publishers suggested she write a memoir instead. Well, I suppose Hollywood memoirs are good sellers, but Justine goes on a long rant about memoirs because of it. It didn’t land well with me since I myself am an unknown working on a memoir, as was Frank McCourt once upon a time. And anyway, arguing that ordinary people’s lives aren’t interesting is contrary to her point. But what the publishers’ input achieved was to persuade her to use a more personal tone in this book, which is why she only sprinkles in the academic insights. But the main take-away I get from this story is that Justine was dumbed down once again, all because of someone else’s “spray paint,” which is her metaphor for other people’s expectations.
All in all, I liked this book, but I didn’t love it. As I said, Justine cursed more than she needed to, and she also used too many repetitions and sentence fragments. I understand these are ways of conveying raw emotion and edginess, but I think she overdid it. But since I did like the message –recognize the value of your own non-famous life – I give the book 3 stars. ...more
I've been a fan of Kurt Andersen's radio show "Studio 360" for years, especially his "American Icons" series, so when I heard him promoting this book,I've been a fan of Kurt Andersen's radio show "Studio 360" for years, especially his "American Icons" series, so when I heard him promoting this book, I ordered it from my library immediately. What I did not realize, though, was that it was the perfect follow-up to the book I'd just finished because it picks up where that one was set: in the Puritan colonies. Roger Williams gets only two mentions in this book, but it's all about the down side of his legacy of "soul liberty." If everyone is allowed the freedom to pursue his or her own spiritual truth, that opens the door to all kinds of crackpot beliefs and eventually devolves into the world of "alternative facts" as we now know it.
Andersen covers every bout of irrationality in American history: the fanatic Puritans, the founding of Mormonism, the phenomenon of speaking in tongues, the Scopes monkey trial, the 60's and the New Age, the rise of the religious right, and climate change denial. Andersen claims to be an agnostic, not a crusading atheist, but religion in general and Protestantism in particular come out looking pretty bad in this book.
Another of its major themes is how much these movements gained momentum because of the entertainment industry. Show business was once made by vaudevillian hucksters like P.T. Barnum, but the lines between fantasy and reality really blurred with the advent of television. I was a kid in the 70's, pre-Internet when TV was still king, and my memoir contains quite a bit about play-acting TV shows and how much I lived in my fantasies. When I read Kurt Andersen's observations, I felt like I could never publish my own thoughts on the subject because they seem so unoriginal. On the other hand, I can stop thinking of myself as such a weirdo because I was just a product of my times. Childhood has been extended since the Baby Boom.
Since this book covers 500 years of American history in 450 pages, it's impossible for me to do it justice with a simple review, but I do want to highlight just one of Andersen's concepts. He divides people into three categories: the believers, the cynics, and the squishies. The believers actually buy into the "party line," and that goes for virtuous worldviews as well as false ones. The cynics talk the language of the believers, but they're manipulating them for their own ends. The squishies are moral relativists, often found in academic or liberal circles, who are inclined to say, "Everyone has his own truth." Andersen says the squishies have been silent too long. His book is a cry to call out the cynics, the hucksters, and the liars of the world and say, "Facts are facts; there are no alternatives" and/or "Climate change is real." The world is in a perilous position, and we've got to turn it around. And even a religious believer like me can be part of it....more
In the very first sentence of this book, the protagonist tells you that he is a "spy, a sleeper, a man of two faces." The setting is Vietnam, so word In the very first sentence of this book, the protagonist tells you that he is a "spy, a sleeper, a man of two faces." The setting is Vietnam, so word "sympathizer" is meant to convey that he is a communist sympathizer, but it means much more than that. The protagonist is a Viet Cong spy living amongst Americans and South Vietnamese, but he was living a double life even before that. His father is white, but white people do not consider him one of theirs, and Vietnamese people look down on him, too, not so much because of his white father, but because he was born out of wedlock. These things have given him the ability to sympathize with both sides, Western and Eastern, communist and nationalist. Then we readers get to stretch our own sympathy muscles. The protagonist performs some despicable acts in the course of this book, but he has enough redeemable qualities that you get invested in his story.
In addition to the excellent characterization in this book, the author sprinkles in philosophical insights that are worth writing down and revisiting. But all of this is amidst some of the goriest, most brutal scenes I have ever read. The worst comes at the end, but the beginning is pretty shocking, too.
One bit of relief in the middle of the book is when the protagonist lands a job as a consultant on a Hollywood film. This gave the author a vehicle to wax philosophical about Asian representation in film and the American propaganda machine. But the most mind-blowing part of the book comes in the last sixty pages. As I said, this includes some horrific scenes, but this is an anti-war book. You don't read it for enjoyment.
And yet, for all of that, parts of it are enjoyable, and as a whole, it carries a powerful message. It's no wonder it won the Pulitzer Prize for fiction. Everyone on the planet should read it....more
Now that Carrie Fisher is gone, and we know that her untimely death was drug-induced, we can see just how autobiographical this novel is. The main chaNow that Carrie Fisher is gone, and we know that her untimely death was drug-induced, we can see just how autobiographical this novel is. The main character is Suzanne Vale, an actress kicking her drug habit. Clearly, she based the character on herself, but I'd argue that she put herself into the male characters, too. This is especially true of Alex, an aspiring writer in rehab with Suzanne, who is too starstruck to talk to her. When the novel alternates into Alex's voice, we are taken first-hand on his manic cocaine binges, and it's the best portrayal of a person on drugs that I've ever come across. I've read Bret Easton Ellis, but Alex seems much more authentic.
The second half of the novel never leaves Suzanne's perspective. Through her, we get to discover Carrie Fisher's views on Hollywood, relationships, and life itself. In many ways, the book is designed to tell all us normal people stop feeling jealous of the stars and appreciate our ordinary lives. Some reviewers have pointed out that this plays right into our negative stereotypes of Hollywood, but since the author is Carrie Fisher, who lived it, I believe her just as much as I believe Alex's cocaine binges. So it's especially tragic that she couldn't have the happy ending she gave to Suzanne....more
I don't care what anyone else says. Malachy McCourt is just a good a writer as his Pulitzer prize-winning brother. His powers of description transportI don't care what anyone else says. Malachy McCourt is just a good a writer as his Pulitzer prize-winning brother. His powers of description transport you right into the scene. Mostly it's a hoot, but he weaves in his battles with his dark demons in just the right balance.
I knew the book was about Malachy's recovery from alcoholism, so I was expecting more about the Twelve Steps, which I've become a fan of recently. There wasn't as much about it as I'd hoped, but what the narrative lacked in quantity, it made up for in quality. My favorite insight completely confirmed what I've been gathering from other people's accounts, but with the unique McCourt stamp. Malachy is famous for his quip, "I'm an atheist, thank G-d." He used it in this book, and he still says it now. He, like Frank, and for that matter Angela herself, was turned off to the Church he knew in his youth, and always equated religion and spirituality. But at AA, he saw that people were practicing genuine spirituality. It's not just submission to the Higher Power. Members help one another struggle against their most deep-seated urges toward negative behavior. Making amends for the past is also part of the program. And that is what religion and community should be about, not just dogma. As a religious person, I always thought it was lame when people said, "I'm spiritual, but not religious," but now I think otherwise.
The surprise in the book was the story of Malachy's radio and acting career, including his sojourn to Hollywood. Hollywood failure stories turn out to be as interesting as Hollywood success stories. How many of us go chasing after a golden dream, only to find that we can find happiness in our own lives after all?
That's the main theme of the book: you can go all over the world in pursuit of a happy life, but in the end, you've got to learn to be satisfied with whatever you get. You can never change your past, but you can enjoy your present. And if all that sounds common-sense or even cliche, it isn't in Malachy's voice. He's got so many funny and colorful stories to tell, the journey through the ups and downs of his life is pure pleasure....more
After Gene Wilder’s death last week, I binged on interviews he did at various stages of his career. The most poignant was in 2013 at the 92nd Street YAfter Gene Wilder’s death last week, I binged on interviews he did at various stages of his career. The most poignant was in 2013 at the 92nd Street Y because you can see that he was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s, but the most in-depth interview, unsurprisingly, was with Terry Gross in promotion of this book. The interview, like the book, covers his personal life as well as his career, but included things he never went public with anywhere else. The most notable of these, and the thing that made me pick up the book, was that for a time, he suffered from a compulsion to pray for hours at a time. He doesn’t name the disorder, but I recognized it immediately as scrupulosity, a form of OCD. Religious Jew that I am, I could not help but wonder how different his life might have been had he gone to a rabbi for help instead of a therapist. But while his therapist is a major character in the book, the scrupulosity part (lucky for him) didn’t last long.
Now, I should confess that when I was about twelve, I had a huge crush on Gene Wilder. No doubt it started with Willy Wonka, but it was really about him and what he brought to his characters. There’s nothing like a gentle intellectual to win over the heart of a Jewish woman. So it was an uncanny confirmation to me when he married Gilda Radner. In the years that I was crushing on him the hardest, she was at the height of her fame, and people everywhere were saying how much I resembled her. Plenty of people called me “Gilda” and sometimes, even worse, “Roseanna Danna.” Then came Coincidence #2: his longest and happiest marriage was with a woman named Karen, which happens to be my English name. So I always thought that if I would ever actually meet Gene Wilder, the attraction might be mutual. That’s the kiss he earned from this stranger, the kind of love he says he and so many other actors crave. Of course, we fans crave the kiss from those larger-than-life stars at least as much they do. That’s what keeps the wheels of the Hollywood dream machine turning.
All of that is my long way of saying that Gene Wilder had a pretty high pedestal to fall from where I’m concerned, and after this book, fall he did. I liked reading about his development as an actor, and the most poignant parts are at the end with his own triumph over cancer. He’s an authoritative voice on that subject, having experienced it both as a loved one and as a patient. But there was way Too Much Information about his romantic affairs. He’s certainly not one of Hollywood’s most shameful cads, but he was no saint either. So if you don’t want to tarnish your image of Gene Wilder as Charlie Bucket’s secret advocate (and we all envision ourselves in Charlie’s position in that scenario), stick with the interviews and skip this book. ...more
According to another reviewer, the main lesson of this book is that while there are more left-leaning people in the entertainment industry than there According to another reviewer, the main lesson of this book is that while there are more left-leaning people in the entertainment industry than there are right-leaning, the right-wingers have exerted more political influence. That certainly is one of the book’s main lessons, but because of current events – namely, that Donald Trump is now the official Republican nominee for president – I took a different lesson from it. The lesson is this: because of our media-saturated society, running for office requires skills that entertainers excel at, but actually running the government takes a different skill set altogether. Celebrities can effectively bring attention to many worthy causes, but when it comes to the nitty-gritty of governance, there’s nothing like experience.
The book profiles ten different celebrities and their involvement in politics. Some backed candidates, while others became candidates. Some used their films to deliver a message, and some became activists and spokespeople for particular causes. As the title states, both sides of the (American) political spectrum are represented.
The book is organized chronologically, so it takes you through some of the most pivotal events of the 20th century. We see the Depression with Charlie Chaplin, World War II with Edward G. Robinson, the Cold War with Ronald Reagan, the Civil Rights movement with Harry Belafonte, Vietnam with Jane Fonda, right down to the book-ended tales of left-wing Warren Beatty and right-wing Arnold Schwarzenegger. As you’d expect, the first half of the book includes quite a bit about McCarthyism and the Red Scare, but I actually preferred the second half. As much as I appreciated the history lessons of the beginning, the more the book delved into events that I actually lived through, the more I enjoyed it.
To return to the present, an analysis I’ve frequently heard over the last few months is that Donald Trump is the natural consequence of a political system that, because of the media, has become increasingly image-driven and decreasingly policy-driven. This book will show you how we’ve gotten to this point. Trump may not be a professional actor, but he sure knows how to grab media attention. But after reading the cautionary tale of Schwarzenegger’s governorship, I’m more worried for this country than ever. Yet at the same time, I see reason to hope. For every one of Trump’s outrageous statements comes an even more biting joke from Stephen Colbert. Now that he’s interviewing politicians, entrepreneurs, authors, and even a Supreme Court justice on the same stage on which he interviews movie stars, our collective conversation can at last tilt back toward substance. ...more
Anyone remember the pre-Internet days of the 1980’s when television was still king? That’s when this book was written, so for every rant author Neil PAnyone remember the pre-Internet days of the 1980’s when television was still king? That’s when this book was written, so for every rant author Neil Postman made against television, I was wondering, “What would he say now?” He lived till 2003, and a Google search will show you that he railed against the Internet, too, but he never lived to see the rise of social media and texting. What would he have said about summing up your personal news into 140 characters right alongside the world’s celebrities? Television squared, I suspect.
The thesis of the book is that television dumbed down our culture and democracy to such an extent, it is comparable to the fictional drug soma in Brave New World. Dictators don’t need Orwellian fear tactics to quell the masses; just keep them happily entertained and distracted and they’ll never rebel. That is why, he argues, Huxley’s dystopian vision turned out to be much more prophetic, at least in the U.S., than Orwell’s.
One of Dr. Postman’s biggest problems with television is its detrimental effect on literacy. Following Marshall McLuhan’s adage that “the medium is the message,” he argues that as our culture became more reliant on images to convey information and less on print, it changed our very thought processes. The effect is much more pervasive than people reading less. People think less. They no longer patience for protracted logical discussions that don’t follow a storyline consisting of conflict, climax, and resolution. The news aims to present itself in the same dramatic, visually pleasing format as the TV drama. And that is why, Dr. Postman argues, the more serious and educational television tries to be, the more deceptive and dangerous it is.
Dr. Postman makes some excellent arguments, but he does come across as a bit of a curmudgeon, particularly in his attack on “Sesame Street.” He argues that in trying to make reading fun for little kids, the show implanted in them the unreasonable expectation that learning must always be fun. That, in turn, forced our school curricula to become entertaining or it would lose kids' already TV-shortened attention span. The effect, he argues, is as degrading to education as TV news is to our national discourse.
Once again, while I can see Dr. Postman's point, my understanding is that "Sesame Street" was created to salvage learning after television had its negative effects. It may have been a concession to the problem, but it was not the cause of it.
Also, I'm not entirely sure if our circumstances are quite as bleak as Dr. Postman made out. After all, thirty years after this book was published, someone is still reading it, and that’s in the Internet age. I’m sharing my thoughts about the book on the Internet right now. So if television dumbed us down, is the Internet, which requires some reading, smartening us back up? I wouldn’t say so about the Internet overall, but I do read more because of Goodreads. If Dr. Postman had lived, I think he would have been an author member.
So go ahead. Turn of your electronics and live in the moment. Our whole culture needs to unplug more often. But 100%? Even Dr. Postman recognized that TV and computers weren't going away. We can't beat them, and we have joined them, but the least we can do is become more conscious, critical, and discerning about how much digital/visual media we allow into our own mental space....more
I became interested in this book because of the biopic about Pamela Travers, “Saving Mr. Banks,” but what turned it into a must-read was finding out fI became interested in this book because of the biopic about Pamela Travers, “Saving Mr. Banks,” but what turned it into a must-read was finding out from other reviews that Travers was a devotee of Gurdjieff. I dabbled in the Gurdjieff method myself in college, and I had been profoundly affected by the adventure with Maia in Mary Poppins as a child, so I wondered: did P.L. Travers plant a seed in my soul that led me to her own spiritual path a decade later? Upon reading her biography, my conclusion is, “not directly,” but she was one quirky seeker of a woman, and I was one quirky seeker of a kid. It’s no wonder that her work spoke to me and that the yearning in each of us would lead us to some similar places. The difference is: she remained a devotee of the method until her death in her mid-nineties. To paraphrase another reviewer, just as Walt Disney over-sweetened the character of Mary Poppins and took away all her sharpness, “Saving Mr. Banks” left Pamela Travers her fussiness but took away her kooky, mystical side, which was a major part of her life. Not only was she a lifelong member of a Gurdjieff school, she lived near a Native American reservation for a time to learn their lessons, and spent her old age in the “New Age.”
Miss Travers said that women pass through three stages in their lives – nymph, mother, and crone – so the book is divided into three sections with those names. Her childhood in Australia falls under the “nymph” section, but more in keeping with the connotation of the word, it goes into her twenties and thirties with romantic encounters with both men and women. Thankfully, none of it is too graphic.
The “mother” section is about her relationship with her adopted son. An online search will lead you to interviews with him bad-mouthing her, but the book shows the affection they shared in his childhood. They had their rocky periods, but he was with her the day before she died, so the estrangement couldn’t have been that bad.
“Crone,” of course, has negative connotations of an old hag, but Travers didn’t see it that way. She felt that as a woman aged, she became wiser, culminating the lessons she learned from the first two stages and in a position to share with the next generation. Reading that made me feel more at peace with aging, like it could be something to look forward to. The apex of her “crone” stage came shortly after the movie made her famous and Radcliffe College invited her to be “writer in residence” for a semester. Young women visited and asked for her wisdom on writing, living, magic, and myth. She enjoyed the experience so much, she offered herself to other colleges afterward. Some of them accepted, but it was never as good as Radcliffe, where she was actually invited. She probably was as bristly and off-putting as the movie “Saving Mr. Banks” made her out to be.
One thing Travers was always defensive about was the label “children’s writer.” She insisted her messages were for adults. Of course, the bulk of her readers probably are children, but I recently re-read parts of Mary Poppins Comes Back, specifically the birth of Annabel Banks, who explains the journey of her soul. I doubt I could have appreciated the depth of that message in my childhood, so perhaps Travers was right. When she went to a Jungian analyst, he told her that all she needed was to read her own books. Yes, they were full of fun and fancy, but they also drew on folklore and myth. Mary Poppins and her measuring tape that sized up the Banks kids’ characters sounded very like Gurdjieff getting his disciples to develop “true objectivity.” So difficult a person as Pamela Travers may have been, she had legitimate reason to be disappointed in Disney’s treatment of her work. His magic made her rich and famous, but her own vision was much deeper and more spiritual. ...more
Even though I live in the Hasidic world where I’m fairly well-insulated from celebrity worship, my reaction to this book proves that fame still has thEven though I live in the Hasidic world where I’m fairly well-insulated from celebrity worship, my reaction to this book proves that fame still has the power to turn my head. As soon as I saw the title of the book, I had to read the summary, and as soon as I’d read that, I immediately got the book out of the library and put aside the book I’d been reading in favor of it. I whipped through it in a matter of days.
The book is very similar to the expose on the wedding industry I read earlier this year, One Perfect Day: The Selling of the American Wedding by Rebecca Mead. Just like Mead interviewed different people associated with different parts of the wedding industry, i.e. wedding planners, bridal shop owners, and a justice of the peace at a Las Vegas quickie chapel, this author, a colleague of hers at The New Yorker, interviewed people just on the periphery of fame, i.e. the head of a modeling/acting school and the kids who attend it, a paparazzo photographer, the personal assistants of several celebrities, and Rod Stewart’s #1 fan. Sprinkled throughout are psychological studies on self-esteem and reactions to fame. The insights are all pretty much common sense - we form “para-social” relationships with the celebrities we like; people seek fame because they want to be loved – but the journey is lots of fun. There is a little hand-wringing about what our culture has come to, but the tone is not overly judgmental. As the author makes clear, everybody, from a prominent Hollywood director to a professor of media studies to the author himself, loves getting attention, and everybody is impressed when others get it.
I recommend this book, especially to young people. A book that would teach us to be more satisfied with the love we’re getting would be better. That’s the ideal antidote to fame-seeking. But till then this is a good way for a teenager to be introduced to sociology. It’s an analysis of the dream world they know and love shown with a good hard dose of reality. ...more
This little memoir by actor Michael J. Fox is marketed as a gift book for a new graduate, but anyone who grew up with him will enjoy it. First of all,This little memoir by actor Michael J. Fox is marketed as a gift book for a new graduate, but anyone who grew up with him will enjoy it. First of all, he is nothing like Alex Keaton. Far from an over-achiever, he dropped out of high school to go to LA and pursue a career in acting. Because he was successful, he didn't even get his high school equivalency diploma until his middle age. Till then, though, he was learning the lessons of life, and he summarizes them in this short book. His years of poverty in LA were a surprise to me, and his reflections on his current struggle with Parkinson's are inspiring. It made me curious to read more of his writing, and I definitely want to pass the book on to my son. So this book is not just a good gift for a new graduate. Share it with an "underachiever" you love! ...more
I've recently become a big fan of a Hollywood history podcast called "You Must Remember This," and when I heard the episode on Audrey Hepburn, it citeI've recently become a big fan of a Hollywood history podcast called "You Must Remember This," and when I heard the episode on Audrey Hepburn, it cited this book, which I first heard of last year when the "101 Books" group read Breakfast at Tiffany's. I saw the movie years before reading the original, so I could only imagine Audrey Hepburn's Holly Golightly the whole way through, even though I knew that Truman Capote said she was all wrong for the part. This book goes into that conflict in detail.
The book goes into many more delicious details than that. I read all about Audrey: her "discovery" by Colette, her relationship with costumer Edith Head and designer Hubert de Givenchy, and her rocky marriage to Mel Ferrer. I learned more about the original Holly, Truman Capote's mother, and his glamorous women friends that he called "the Swans." I learned about director Blake Edwards: his sensitivity to Audrey, who was nervous about the role, and the expensive party he threw to film the 13-minute party scene. There was even a paragraph on the casting of the cat! But one of my favorite parts turned out to be the composition of "Moon River," which won the film its only Oscars (scoring and song). I had it going through my head to the end of the book, and there's a lot to be said for reading those lyrics typed out. The lyrics were written by a small-town Southern man who settled in glamorous New York to capture a character created by another small-town Southern man who'd settled in glamorous New York. Truman Capote may have hated the movie, but what did he think of the song?
On top of all that, the book is also about the changing views of womanhood. It argues that the film represents the transition from the "good girl" of the 1950's to the feminism of the 1960's. It gave me a lot of food for thought, but it's not quite digested yet. If anyone wants to discuss it further, there are always comments. Go ahead. I invite you.
This was the most fun book I've read all year. Whenever I was in a bad mood, all I had to do was turn to this book for a pick-me-up. It was the perfect mix of lightness and seriousness. And now I'm ready to tackle something purely edifying and probably depressing. ...more
I read this as a follow-up to Fame Junkies: The Hidden Truths Behind America's Favorite Addiction, but although it’s also about celebrity worship versI read this as a follow-up to Fame Junkies: The Hidden Truths Behind America's Favorite Addiction, but although it’s also about celebrity worship versus ordinary life, David Shields wrote it, so it’s kind of deconstructionist and you have to connect the dots yourself. It’s one of his earlier books, so it’s not written in the collage of quotes style that he showcased and advocated for in Reality Hunger: A Manifesto, but you can see the origins of the concept here. For example, has one chapter built on bumper sticker slogans and another of tag lines from movie trailers. Mostly, though, he talks about his own life, and here and there, he’ll tell over an encounter with a celebrity. I liked the celebrity bits best, but there was one part that gave me insight into David Shields’ unusual style. His writing teacher was a man named Milch who went on to win Emmy awards for his writing on the TV show “Hill Street Blues.” When Milch was a teacher, he told his students to employ a “strategy of indirection” so the reader would have to work to understand what was going on in the story. This book definitely did that. Yes, it’s Shields’ reflections on fame and how ordinary folk experience it, but it’s not a sociological expose like Fame Junkies. I do prefer a more standard narrative, but David Shields is an interesting writer, and I’ll probably read more of what he has to say. ...more
Because this is a true spy story that was made into an Academy award winning movie, I expected it to read like a thriller. It was an amazing and audacBecause this is a true spy story that was made into an Academy award winning movie, I expected it to read like a thriller. It was an amazing and audacious rescue, and I have nothing but praise for the people who carried it out, but not all of it was exciting. Much of the book is about the planning and preparation, the negotiations and technical expertise that went into pulling the rescue off. So while it definitely gave me a greater appreciation of the actual work of the CIA, not every paragraph held my attention. So don’t go into this book expecting page-turning excitement. Parts of it are definitely riveting, and all of it will arouse admiration, but I guess the chills and thrills are to found in the movie....more
After reading the memoirs of “Little House on the Prairie” actresses Melissa Gilbert and Alison Arngrim, both of which depict co-star Melissa Sue AndeAfter reading the memoirs of “Little House on the Prairie” actresses Melissa Gilbert and Alison Arngrim, both of which depict co-star Melissa Sue Anderson as aloof at best and downright mean at worst, I thought Melissa Sue deserved a chance to defend herself in her own memoir. Whether or not she’s mean, I can’t say. As I think she wrote her memoir after theirs, she had her chance to get back at them, and she didn’t. She told only one negative story about Melissa Gilbert’s attention-seeking and was fairly neutral about Alison. The aloofness, however, does come through. It’s not so much that she didn’t share intimate details about her life – I, for one, don’t want to read about a star’s experiences in the bedroom – but her tone wasn’t as warm or funny as the other two, and all the friends she mentioned had nothing to do with Little House. Also, the dialogue didn’t always seem natural (how many different people called her “kiddo”?) and it was sometimes written in script form, which was gimmicky.
Mostly, the book summarizes the plots of the episodes in Little House where Mary had a key role and gives a little behind-the-scenes description. Since my main interest is what went on behind the scenes, I usually found the plot summaries excessive, but there was one notable exception: where she discussed the research and method she used in playing a blind character. She went to a real school for the blind for training and said, “If there’s one thing I’m proud of, it’s my blind stare.” She’s right; she did a great job at it. Even if she was as cold as her co-stars said she was, they can’t knock her as an actress.
If she dishes the dirt on anyone, it’s Michael Landon. The other two did this to a lesser extent. All three acknowledged his bad temper, his drinking, and how he left his wife for a younger woman. All three respected him professionally and enjoyed working with him. But because Melissa Anderson also had a role in a TV movie about his early life, I learned more about him from her book. She told about his abusive mother and the cruel streak he learned from her. She describes him humiliating a stutterer on set once – something Nellie did in the plot of one episode. Is that where the idea came from? Melissa Anderson doesn’t say so, but that’s how I connect the dots.
So let me take it a few steps further. One of the plots that the book mentions involves Laura and Albert trying to sell some honey to Mrs. Oleson so that they can pay for Mary and Adam to take a stagecoach somewhere. Mrs. Oleson won’t give them the price they want, so they sell her their whole hive, giving her incorrect advice that guarantees that she’ll be stung, probably multiple times. Now I ask you: where is the morality here? Laura is supposed to be good, and Mrs. Oleson is supposed to be bad, so if Laura takes revenge against her, that’s perfectly acceptable, right? How about if that revenge is dangerous and completely out of proportion to the original offense?
Another plot line the book describes is when Mary slaps Nellie. (Alison Arngrim’s book discusses the slap, too.) Apparently, the audience loved it. Heck, I loved watching the Olesons get their come-uppance every week. But the original books don’t condone revenge; just take a look at Ma’s poem to Laura in Little Town on the Prairie. As Alison Arngrim said in her book, Little House was the most Christian series ever shown in the history of television, but this Jew is wondering what happened to the most central value they profess: forgiveness.
Both Melissa Gilbert’s and Melissa Anderson’s books tell the story of the very last episode in which Michael Landon decided to blow up the entire set so that nobody else could use it. In the show, the characters sing “Onward Christian Soldiers” and then use a wagon load of dynamite to keep their town out of the hands of the new landowner. Is that “Christian” behavior?
The fact is, Michael Landon was religiously confused. He was born Eugene Orowitz, the son of a Jewish father and a non-Jewish mother. According to Torah, that means he was a non-Jew, but a rabbi officiated at his funeral anyway. As Alison Arngrim pointed out, he gave voice to his unorthodox views on interfaith childrearing by marrying her character to a Jew. She also adds, “Then he just simplified things by making himself an angel” (in his next series “Highway to Heaven”).
Now I don’t mean to bash Michael Landon too hard; his mother sounded like the ultimate witch, and it’s incredible that he grew up to be so successful after such an upbringing. I learned in my own writing classes that the best material comes from our dearest wishes and our deepest fears. Taking revenge on people through writing is considered bad form, but those emotions are probably a rich source of material, too. And Michael Landon tapped into all of it: he created his dearest wish by creating the idyllic TV family. He tapped into our worst fears with all the melodrama that was such a departure from the books. And he gave us revenge: Laura versus Nellie week after week. And thousands of people loved it, including me.
This review has gone far astray of Melissa Anderson’s book. It’s interesting only if you really loved “Little House.” I really loved “Little House,” and I love knowing that out of all those crazy Laura/Nellie fight scenes grew a decades-long friendship, which is the lesson you’ll get from Alison Arngrim’s book. But considering that rebellious Rose Wilder may have been the real author of the books and that neither Rose nor Laura got any of the wealth created by the TV series, I guess Michael Landon’s dark side is just one more irony of the entire “Little House” phenomenon. ...more
Just learning that this book existed from a GR friend's review last year was enough to set me off on a full-speed-ahead Little House binge, as evidencJust learning that this book existed from a GR friend's review last year was enough to set me off on a full-speed-ahead Little House binge, as evidenced by this shelf, but curious as I was about this book specifically, I was a little put off by the curse word in the title and the knowledge that Alison would "come out" about being raped by her own brother. She was the victim, of course, and was ultimately heroic in becoming a voice for other victims, but I figured it wouldn't make for kosher reading.
Finally, though, my curiosity about the rest of her book got the better of me, and I'm really glad. This memoir was loads better than Melissa Gilbert's and more tzniusdig to boot. Alison Arngrim really feels like a friend afterward. It's a fast read, and anyone who loved the show will love her descriptions of how they got filmed, including Nellie's notorious ride downhill in a wheelchair. Alison Arngrim is really likable, and the pictures of her and Melissa Gilbert off screen are priceless. Isn't it awesome? Enemies on screen are still the best of friends today. ...more
It’s a testament to my love of Luna Lovegood that I bought and read this book. What does a study on a serial killer have to do with Luna Lovegood? WelIt’s a testament to my love of Luna Lovegood that I bought and read this book. What does a study on a serial killer have to do with Luna Lovegood? Well, as any fan can tell you, the actress who played Luna Lovegood in the Harry Potter films is co-starring in a film called “The Monster Butler,” which is based on the life of this serial killer. She will be playing Fiona Carrick-Smith, the daughter of an aristocrat whose family hires “the monster butler.”
I bought the book because I wanted to learn about Fiona, but as she’s not mentioned in the book at all, I have to conclude that she didn’t exist. The film claims to be “based on the life” of Archibald Hall, which means parts will be pure fiction. Actually, after reading this book, I wouldn’t be surprised if the film was almost entirely fiction. It all depends on whose version of the story you believe.
First, the facts. “The Monster Butler” was born in Scotland in 1924 as Archibald Hall. As a teenager, he showed violent tendencies and kept a shrine of Nazi paraphernalia in his home. (It would be incorrect to call it memorabilia. The Nazis were actually in power when Hall was a teenager.) He committed a series of thefts that landed him in jail, and there he began having homosexual sex. After his release, he decided to upgrade his thievery by landing butler posts in posh homes and robbing his employers. To do this, he developed a more suave persona and renamed himself Roy Fontaine, the surname taken from actress Joan Fontaine. Eventually, he killed five people and was caught shortly afterward. He was sentenced to life imprisonment and died in 2002.
While in prison, Hall/Fontaine wrote two books about his life, A Perfect Gentleman and To Kill and Kill Again. The first part of this book summarizes his account. He describes discovering at a young age that he exuded powerful personal magnetism, resulting in his having many lovers of both sexes. He portrays himself as a clever, sophisticated jewel thief who was able to outwit his victims and the law at every turn. He was even involved in some political intrigue with the Soviets! He paints his first murder as self-defense and then blames the cruel treatment he’d received in jail for turning him into a murderer.
The second part of the book pokes holes in the story. A.M. Nicol, the author of the book, is a criminal defense attorney in Scotland, and he does a creditable job of it by comparing police reports to Hall/Fontaine’s various accounts of himself, which are, of course, contradictory in themselves. You don’t have to get too far in this section of the book before you’re convinced that Archibald Hall was a megalomaniac and a liar. He was not anywhere near as suave or as clever as he believed himself to be. After all, he was caught numerous times. This section also includes some of Hall/Fontaine’s own written confessions, and judging by them, he was so illiterate that he had to have worked with a ghost writer on his books. So probably the only one who believed in “Roy Fontaine, master jewel thief” was Archibald Hall himself.
And then we get to the third part, the “Why Did He Do It?” section. And here is where the book went from 3 to 4 for me. The first chapter of this section, which is all about Hollywood, deserves a 5. Aside from renaming himself after a movie star, Hall/Fontaine copied many plot elements from popular movies of the day into the stories of his escapades, the intrigue with the Soviets being one of them. The book names quite a few of them: “To Catch A Thief” in which a debonair jewel thief played by Cary Grant ends up with the high society girl, Grace Kelly; “Raffles” the beloved butler turned thief. Naturally, all this affected me especially strongly because of the massacre in Aurora, CO. Let me quote from the book:
“Studies show that a link exists between a reliance on film media for information and the propensity for criminal behavior. The greater the reliance, the greater the possibility. . . It goes without saying that the effect is greatly magnified if there is already some mental imbalance. While that certainly seems to have applied to Fontaine, there are other known examples. John Hinckley was convinced that his attempt to murder President Reagan would impress Jodie Foster and would lead him to having a relationship with the female star of “Taxi Driver.” American serial killer Joel Rifkin, who murdered seventeen women between 1989 and 1993, was said to be infatuated by Hitchcock’s 1972 film “Frenzy,” from which he gleaned some practical hints about the mechanics of murder. When eventually arrested, he was found to have Noxzema cream smeared on his moustache to combat the stench of the decaying corpse found in the back of his pick-up truck, an idea imported from the 1991 film “The Silence of the Lambs.” Undoubtedly, then, Fontaine was neither the first nor the last case of such media-inspired delusions.”
Anyone still with me? Does that not shake you up? I went so far as to write a letter to Dark House Productions today, the film company producing “Monster Butler,” urging them not to show the film. I fear they’ll be portraying Roy Fontaine, not Archibald Hall. Roy Fontaine, after all, was a Hollywood creation. His story is much more glamorous and dramatic than the sordid truth of Archibald Hall.
Then there are the actors to consider. The actor playing Fontaine is Malcolm McDowell, whose most famous role was Alex in “A Clockwork Orange.” Among the copycat crimes that film inspired was a gang rape so sick and violent that the director himself had the movie removed from the theatres! It wouldn’t surprise me if the guilt stemming from that incident was a major cause of Malcolm McDowell’s own bout with alcoholism. And the victim will be “Luna Lovegood,” a character probably best loved by female fans who identify with her because we were weird, teased, and lonely. . . easy prey for creepy guys who identify with the sociopathic Alex.
I hate to say something to hurt Evanna Lynch’s career, but I hope they cancel the film. I’m afraid it will give Roy Fontaine all the posthumous glory Archibald Hall ever dreamed of. ...more
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