Namaste (sniffle)

Its been three days.  Three days, and I have not been able to go more than 10 minutes without thinking about the Lost finale.  I know I sound obsessed and geeky, but there’s a reason I am still thinking about it.  The story is so complex and is delivered in such a unique fashion that it takes much longer than most shows to process and understand.  During the course of every day that has passed since the airing of the finale, I have peeled back more and more layers of the shows meaning (with help, admittedly), gaining a new appreciation for the show each time.  And now the real melancholy has set in.

I feel that I am, in this moment, at the apex of my understanding and caring for this show.  After the finale was over, though I knew I would never watch a new episode of Lost again, I also knew that my work wasn’t finished—I had some thinking to do, and it would take awhile.  But now, I feel like I’ve grasped it, on all levels.  There is nowhere to go but down now.  Like the death of a loved one, they gradually leave your every thought until one day you realize you haven’t thought of them in weeks.  That’s just the way it works.  So, while today is the closest I have ever been with the show, and that should be celebrated, it is also the first day of the degeneration of this relationship, and that is to be mourned.

Now, that I say I have grasped the show on all its levels is not to say that I have all the answers.  There are some answers that were simply not ever given.  What’s important to understand is that those missing answers were clearly not what was important about the show to begin with.   As any avid Lost viewer will tell you, nothing is ever accidentally included or omitted on this show.  So, if the show didn’t answer a particular question, it was either because it was deemed ultimately irrelevant to the final message of the show, or because it was meant to be open to interpretation and keep the viewer wondering.

I stated in an earlier post that I was worried about whether or not the finale would live up to what I thought it should be.  I realize that I was missing the point.  Granted, it just so happens that I have come to think the finale was nearly perfect, but the point is that it really doesn’t matter what I think.  I was worried because I care about the show, but it is an entity of its own, and [the writers] has always known best.  We, the viewers, began demanding answers as soon as the pilot had rolled credits, yet the writers abstained, knowing what should be revealed and when.  If we had had it our way, we would’ve had all the answers right away, and would have never needed to accompany the characters on their journeys of growth.  You see, the show is what it is, and should not be compromised or changed (read: dumbed-down) in order to appeal to a larger audience.  This is a show that requires both intelligence and compassion to enjoy and digest, and not all viewers are equipped to do that with a work of fiction.  Those that are not may want to look elsewhere for entertainment (read: Two and a Half Men).  However, for those of us that truly “get it,” Lost really is a gift, and I feel privileged to have experienced it.

As for the emotional impact of the finale, it was massive.  The first time I saw it, I teared up at nearly every “awakening”, except for Sayid and Shannon’s, though at the time I didn’t even understand what the awakening really indicated.  Then later, when I watched the finale again a couple days later (while Bridget was at work and the boys were taking a nap), alone and now understanding, I bawled like a baby.  Seriously.  I haven’t cried like that in a long time.  While probably mostly due to stress and exhaustion unrelated to the show, I was overcome while watching these people find each other, themselves; redemption.

And as much as I would like to keep writing about the show to try and keep it alive, I realize that by doing so I would be missing one of Lost’s most important lessons:  knowing when to let go.

P.S.  There is another show I have watched for years, 24, whose series finale was a couple nights ago.  While I have enjoyed the show for all 8 of its seasons, watching the 24 finale one night after watching Lost’s finale was like watching a tee ball game the night after going to game 7 of the World Series.

LOST but not Forgotten

SPOILER ALERT!!!

Don’t read this post if you have not yet watched the series finale.  I don’t want to ruin it for you!

I finally get it, now, almost 6 hours after the finale ended.  I can safely say that this show (both the series and the finale) is the best, most elaborately written, most moving television I have ever seen.
I was immediately touched by the show’s sentimentality–I teared up at each “awakening” the characters had.  In truth, I have always been surprised by how much this show has tugged at my heart strings–I mean it’s a TV show for crying out loud, how poignant can it be?  Turns out, very.

In my earlier post I stated that I didn’t know what kind of finale I wanted LOST to have.  I know now that I wanted it to be about the characters all along.  I cared more about these “people” than any characters in any book, movie or show that I have ever seen, and that is due both to the length of time we have known them, and the depth at which the show went to show us who these people really were.  Sure, the Dharma Initiative mysteries and the hidden “easter eggs” helped to drive the series along and kept the buzz alive, but the root of the show has always been the survivors themselves.

I want to share some of the questions I came up with initially, as well as the answers that I have since settled upon.  If I don’t answer a question you have, or if you disagree with a theory of mine, please leave it in a comment below.  I love brainstorming about this show!

What was “real” and what was “purgatory”?

Ok, so I’m pretty sure I get it that they are in purgatory at the end, and then all “move on” together.  But a burning question I had right away was, when did this purgatory begin (from a chronological, story-timeline perspective)?  Was the entire flash sideways actually purgatory?
I believe the answer is yes.  Here is my theory:  We are first presented with the “flash sideways” (the story where the plane never actually crashes) when Juliet sets off the bomb in the mineshaft, thus leading to believe there is a cause/effect relationship between the two events;  bomb goes off, eliminating the future cause of the crash, right?  That’s what they were going for, so that’s what we were led to believe happened.  But I now believe that this is not true.  What happened, happened–they crashed, that cannot be undone.  We were just cleverly misdirected, not realizing we were now viewing them in purgatory, a purgatory that exists long after Jack takes his final breath and watches the plane successfully leave the island.

In purgatory, where the hell did Jack’s teenage son come from?  Come to think of it, how is it he and Juliet were married?  Come to think of it more, why do they ALL have different histories, histories that are different even all the way back to before the crash?

If they are in purgatory, and if it a place “created by the survivors as a way to find each other again, those they love” (according to Christian at the end), then why would they have histories that are different than what actually happened in their lives?  Like Jin and Sun:  in “real” life, they were married before they got onto the plane in Sydney, yet in the flash sideways, they are not married yet.  Why would that be different?  I’m still fuzzy on this one, even after checking out some chat forums to hear others’ ideas.  I’ve heard that Jack dreamed up his son because he wanted to be the father his father was not, but there’s no real evidence to support that.  Let me know what you think, I would love to hear some ideas.

Where were Michael, Walt, Ecko, Daniel and Charlotte at the end?

This one took me a bit, but I think I have the answer.  Farraday and Charlotte had not “awakened” yet in purgatory.  Eloise asked Desmond if he was going to take her son, to which he replied he was not, though he did imply that someone else would.  That someone else could be Charlotte.  They would “realize” each other, and move on together.  Similarly, Ben decided to stay behind for Alex, to be a father to her that he never was in life, in hopes that she may accept him and they too could move on together.  Ecko, Michael and Walt were not loved by those within this group at the church, and were thus not “awakened” by them.

Why did the writers deny, early in the series, that the characters were actually dead?

Because they weren’t.  Everything that happened on the island really happened.  Again, they all died at different points in life–Jack on the island, Locke before going back to the island, and others like Kate and Sawyer sometime later in their lives.  Many fans have posted both that they hated the finale and that the writers lied when they denied the characters were dead or in purgatory.  They did not lie because, at that point, the characters were very much alive.

These were my questions and the best answers I could come up with.  What do you think?

May 23, 2010, or as it will henceforth be known, LOST finale day

Man am I nervous. More nervous than excited. More anxious than thrilled. I have spent the last hour trying to mentally prepare myself for the LOST finale tonight. I know that will sound sadly pathetic to many out there, but the truth is I (as well as most all other LOST-ies) have invested a huge amount of time and thought into this TV series. The scary thing about it is there are so many things left unanswered, and only 2.5 hours (in reality, more like 1.5 hours) left in the shows life.

I’m not saying that I need everything answered in order to feel fulfilled by the show or its finale. On the contrary, that wouldn’t fit. What worries me is the potential letdown factor. Most shows have a finale that is used to tie up a few loose ends, but LOST is different; its like a freight train that has been picking up speed and intensity as it progresses. Logically, one could think that a finale that is anything less than the culmination of all that inertia is a failure. Then again, I’m sure there are many who would prefer a return to simplicity–an ending that weeds out all the mind-bending intricacies of LOSTworld, like numbers and polar bears and time travel, and puts the final focus on the characters and their relationships.

What worries me is that I don’t think it can do both those things, and I don’t even know which I would prefer.

Plus, finales in general are cursed. They are so hyped that they are set up for failure. And while everyone looks forward to the finale, you kind of don’t, really. You kind of despise it–Its the Jack Kavorkian episode, killing off a series so it isn’t doomed to degenerate.

So, my conclusion? I have decided to give the LOST finale the freest reign and the greatest benefit of the doubt I have ever given any artistic medium in my life. I simply will not let the finale ruin what has been 6 years of the most intriguing television I have ever watched, no matter the direction it takes. It is just another episode. If I like it, terrific. If not, oh well. It doesn’t have to make or break the series for me. And the great thing is now that I have assumed that mindset, I can return to being optimistic, and fully expect the finale to blow my mind (and emotions).

Seven albums I’m currently obsessed with (AKA Seven albums with which I am currently obsessed (Grammatically Correct) )

Number Seven, To the Races by Eric Bachmann

If I were writing this piece three months ago, this album would be number one or two on my list. And given my relatively short attention span, the fact that this album is still on the “obsessed list” speaks volumes for it.

I was immediately struck by the sparseness of the album. All the songs are just a couple vocal tracks accompanied by an acoustic guitar, with some occasional splashes of harmonica or piano or fiddle. There is little to no percussion on the record, but that is not to say the album is lacking rhythm. Bachmann uses varied and unique picking/strumming patterns to give the songs a very real texture. I found this helps create a structure to each song, while still allowing the ethereal nature to remain intact.

The magic ingredients that really set this album apart are Bachmann’s vocals and lyrics. His voice and delivery are very unique and unrefined, honest and self-unaware. In terms of music theory, he hits his marks just fine and is a pleasure to hear, but what is so striking is that you firmly believe that he is there solely to get his musical message across to the listener. While the melodies he writes are beautiful, Bachmann isn’t trying to wow you with vocal fireworks. It’s as if the melodies emerged organically from the lyrics—as if you couldn’t imagine hearing these lyrics with another tune. I guess what I am trying to say is that this albums stands out to me because it makes me feel more than other albums do.

Number Six, Into the Wild (Soundtrack) by Eddie Vedder

This album may not be on this list if it weren’t for my 20 year feud with Pearl Jam.

Let me explain. Ever since the emergence of Pearl Jam in the mid-90’s as a grunge super-band, I have always refused to jump on the PJ bandwagon. Everyone and their mom was talking about how PJ was the best thing since sliced bread, and I decided that the coolest and most rebellious thing I could do at the time was to vow never to be a fan (I have since decided that my musical identity is safely intact enough to repeal the Pearl Jam Embargo). So, when I heard this record, it was such a dramatic shift from one end of the spectrum (refusal to listen) to the other (can’t stop listening) that turned what may have just been another great album in my collection into one I have to always have immediate access to if needed.

I was tricked by the cinema industry into hearing this album. I watched Into the Wild, and took note of the music, thinking “This sounds like something I would really like”. I didn’t find out until later that it was Eddie Vedder who both wrote and performed the songs. I got a copy anyway, out of morbid curiosity, and was blown away by the contents. First off, what a huge departure from Pearl Jam! In fact, I dub the singer of this album Vedder-Two–he cannot be the same person that wrote and sang Evenflow.

Secondly, having seen the movie, it amazed me how Vedder was able to capture the feeling of the film so well. You take the same journey while listening to the album that you do watching the film. Ups and downs, from hope and promise to loneliness, to despair, to peace.

Finally, I was struck with the fragility of Vedder’s voice, and his mastery of lyricism. These are some unbelievably well written lyrics. Just listen to Guaranteed, the closing track of the album—I was going to include an excerpt of the lyrics, but I can’t decide on which verse, they are all so eloquent and terrific.

Number Five, Easy Tiger by Ryan Adams

This one sticks to the simple formula: good lyrics + solid melodies + great arrangement/performance = One helluva album. Adams doesn’t do anything here that is mind blowing; he isn’t trying to reinvent the wheel. He just has an ability that most artists do not have—he can write an entirely good song. Some songs have great lyrics, but boring melodies. Some have great melodies but words that don’t make sense. Adams gives you the entire package with every song on the record. I mentioned in the Bachmann review that I couldn’t imagine his songs played to a different tune. The same holds true here—I have a hard time deconstructing Ryan Adams songs because they are so intricately constructed with all the elements relying upon each other.

One unique thing about Adams’ music is how he deftly dances around the country/alt country genre without ever really falling headlong into it. Just when you think you have him pegged as alt country, he comes out with a Halloweenhead or Fix It, tracks that are straight up rock and roll; similar (in a different way) to how Wilco shrugs off that label with their dash of Radiohead-ness.

Number Four, Sigh No More by Mumford and Sons

This album is entirely unique, new and fresh in today’s music scene, but is in the oldest genre by far: English Folk. This is the debut album from this quartet who breathe new life into an antiquated genre. I think it is safe to say they are number one in the English Folk scene, since they are the English Folk scene. The standard fare on each track is the lead singer Marcus Mumford on acoustic guitar, while also playing a kick drum with one foot, and a tambourine with the other. The other three members play piano, banjo and stand-up bass, and all sing back-up vocals. The result is soaring four-part harmonies on every song. Think Nickel Creek, only all male, and from the wrong side of the English tracks; grittier. Impossible to not sing along and tap your foot with, this album will be stuck in your head for weeks, as it has mine

Number Three, Oracular Spectacular by MGMT

Combine the psychedelic rock of the 70’s with rampant synthesizers, keyboards, electric guitars, house beats, and unique vocal melodies and you have the closest description of MGMT I can come up with.

It’s strange that I find myself liking this album so much because I typically don’t care much for synthesizers OR house beats, but Kids is one of my favorite tracks on the album, composed almost entirely of those two things. My only two nitpicks are that many of the lyrics are unintelligible because they are bathed in reverb (though I do think that sound is part of their “style”) and the album falters with the last few songs. The first two thirds of the album are fantastic, but the last third seems to lose its musicality; it gets weird for me. Unfortunately, this is what happened on most of their follow up album, Congratulations, but that is another topic for another post.

On Oracular Spectacular, MGMT manage to be profound while remaining playful and uncaring how they are received. They made this music because it entertained them, and that’s all they cared about. I suppose that is a true sign of greatness—entertaining yourself while boggling everyone else’s mind.

Number Two, Sea Change by Beck

Probably the oldest record on my little list here, I didn’t come across it until very recently. I had heard Lost Cause on a couple movie show soundtracks, but never knew this was its home album. For the most part this album was all new music for me, and what a wonderful surprise it was. I typically can only handle “Funky Beck” in small doses—Where Its At and Loser are good and all, but in moderation is how I have to listen to him. This album is very different. Musically acoustic guitar-driven, lyrically heartbreak-driven, and actually sung by Beck, this record is a definite departure from the funk-rap persona by which most know him. Heavy on strings, melody and emotion, Beck delivers one of my favorite albums of the last 5 years. He manages to keep his raging originality, only instead of his typical medium of nonsense lyrics and spoken-word, he replaces that with beautiful yet unique melody and arrangement. I found out about this album on someone’s “Top 50 albums of the decade” list, and while some of their other picks were complete crap, this one is spot on.

Number One, For Emma, Forever Ago by Bon Iver

Obviously everyone is moved in different ways by different things to different degrees, but this album hit home with me emotionally in a way that no other ever has. Looking back throughout my life, I have favorite albums, or can identify touching songs because they are tied to a moment or event in my life. This is the first album I have ever come across that touched me because is so deeply made me re-feel those events. It wasn’t a part of those memories, it embodies them. Hell, I can’t even write songs to do that for myself, yet For Emma, Forever Ago is able to do that for others. Remarkable.

Many of the songs are sang in falsetto, which may turn some listeners off, but I believe that the fragility in the vocals is essential to the vibe of the record. Knowing that the album was written out of heartache supports this feeling to me. Justin Vernon, after having his heart broken, isolated himself at his family’s cabin in the remote woodland of Northern Wisconsin. It was there that he wrote and recorded the album, in the middle of winter. I can’t imagine anything more desolate than being alone in a cabin, in the woods of winter Wisconsin with a broken heart, for three months.

He also recorded the album with very basic recording materials, adding to the authenticity of the music. As far as I’m concerned, he somehow magically captured some of that heartache on tape, and it pours out every time I play that album.

***And yes, I titled this post as I did so people could not argue with the validity of my selections***

You know you like Coldplay.

I found myself listening to some old Coldplay today, and was reminded of how good they are.  I know that hating on Coldplay has become the favorite past time of those in the music scene, but I don’t see how that can be based on their musical ability.

Lets start with a concession and all be honest here:  Viva La Vida sucks.  It is self indulgent, and, for the most part, forgettable.  But, if we go back to a time before Chris Martin tried to become Bono Jr., you will hear some really fantastic music.  They are still the same people now, capable of making more great music in the same vein as their early triumphs but only now they have been misled by ego, the public, music media, record companies, producers, or all of the above.  Coldplay-Current is not the same band as Coldplay-Vintage, and it makes me sad, because none of the parts of the machine have changed, just some wiring somewhere.  Get a mechanic in there!

Commence chronological journey….NOW:

Parachutes. Calm down all you Coldplayers, I know it isn’t their real first release (there was Ode to Deodorant and all that crap).  However, this is their first widely released album, and Parachutes without a doubt marks the point in Coldplay history where they discovered their true identity as a band.  Melancholy, radio-friendly, melody-driven pop rock.  Simply from a commercial standpoint, the album was massive:  3 hit singles in Yellow, Shiver and Trouble, with the first being possibly the biggest hit of the decade.  Used in millions of movie soundtracks, and selling well over a bajillion copies, Parachutes was a pretty decent mainstream debut.

A Rush of Blood to the Head.  This is the album that catapulted the band from stardom to supernova-epic status, for three reasons.  First, they conquered the dreaded sophomore slump–the public has a comfortable handle on what your group is after hearing your first album, and has pigeon-holed you, whether consciously or not  (it is a band’s nature to fight against this notion, which will later prove to be the catalyst of Viva La Vida).  CP stayed well enough within the confines of their fans’ preconceived notions of what they should sound like, while still expanding their musical landscape.

Secondly, they somehow managed to have even MORE hit singles on AROBTTH than on Parachutes:  In My Place, The Scientist, Clocks (the biggest hit of the next decade), and Politik.  The argument on whether or not In My Place is possibly (ironically) out of place on the album (artistically speaking) is irrelevant–it still received major radio airplay***.

And third, they started writing more epic sounding songs, songs meant to be played in huge arenas with throngs of clapping people.  Clocks and Politik are anthemic and grandiose, and have a kind of self-aware swagger to them.  Even The Scientist, the personal ballad of the album, seems to beckon a sing-along.

X&Y. Here is where it starts to get a little tricky.  To the astute listener (me) you can hear a real darkness throughout this record, and the beginnings of a movement away from strict melody-driven music to a more rhythm-centric sound.  Guitars and percussion are now in the forefront as opposed to piano and vocals in albums past.  Jonny Buckland used to be the spice sprinkled in the perfect amount upon a song to give it its “voice”, and in this album, he saturates most songs with very effected guitar.  This isn’t necessarily bad, as they probably gained some fans with their newer sound, while losing few because its not THAT far off the mark.  Personally, I like the album, especially its gems Fix You and Swallowed in the Sea, but it took me a few listens to warm up to X&Y, Talk and White Shadows.  I (correctly) predicted that this would most likely be the last album I really liked from Coldplay.

Viva la Vida.  By past Coldplay standards, crap.  They lost many fans with this effort.  Held to the standard of all other music out there in the world, still above average, but I am no longer a fan.  I am indifferent of them now.  I won’t change the station, but I won’t turn it up either.

I applaud Coldplay for trying to evolve, they just missed the mark.  As I mentioned earlier, there is an understandable artistic compulsion to move forward and evolve your sound, especially when feeling pigeon-holed by a fan base.  It is as if walls are suddenly constructed around you; creative claustrophobia.  However, you’re really damned if you do, damned if you don’t in this situation.  You can’t remain exactly the same, or critics will accuse you of pulling a “Nickelback” (I made a funny).  Nor can you change too much, or you will be deemed to have lost your identity.

Maybe Coldplay’s next album will be a return to their older style.  Maybe they will really go off the deep end, Bjork-style, and get so caught up in themselves that they literally implode.  Honestly, either would be entertaining.  I guess my point is that I don’t care.  It’s ok to love their old stuff, and not like their new stuff.  And it is snobbish and sheep-like to jump on the Coldplay bash-wagon when their early stuff really is phenomenal.

***this brings up a theory I have about Coldplay and their discography.  I believe that Coldplay intentionally wrote a “throwback” song on each of their albums as a tool to help ease their fans into the next phase of Coldplay music.  They knew AROBTTH was moving in a direction away from Parachutes with songs such as Politik, and wanted to make the transition easier for the audience.  Even the track placement is indicative of this:  1) Politik, ushering in the newer sound, followed by 2) In My Place, a soothing reassurance to the listener that they are not forgetting their old sound altogether.  Furthermore, that is another reason why Viva La Vida sucks–they didn’t have a throwback song.  Chart it, you will see that I am right.  AROBTTH had In My Place.  X&Y had Fix You.  Viva la Vida has, what?  Viva La Vida?  Melodic, but not the same. Anyway, this is also my argument for why In My Place is not an out-of-place song on AROBTTH, as many Coldplay-ites suggest.

Handmaid Redux

In an earlier post, I reviewed The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood.  As in that post, I will assume you have read the book before reading this review, so beware of what the kids these days are calling “spoilers” below.

I just wanted to re-address one portion of the book after hearing a friend’s response to my original position.  It is in regard to the Epilogue, and here is what I had originally written:

***While I liked the open ending of the book, I did not feel the epilogue was necessary.  It seemed self-indulgent to me, but at the same time, easy to disregard as not a part of the real story.

My friend, Jason, responded with this:

I argee with most, if not all, of your points. I think the epilogue, though, does serve a purpose: it shows that Offred’s world, too, shall pass. It’s also just another layer of desolate hopelessness, because now Offred’s story and world are forever etched in history via the written word. It reaffirms in a meta-textual way what we the readers already know.
Just in case you have not read the book, and are still reading this post (I warned you!) let me give you a quick snapshot of this controversial epilogue.  The story ends with Offred either being taken away to jail (or worse) or rescued, we aren’t sure which–it’s open ended.  This is followed by the epilogue which takes place in the distant future (I can’t remember the exact year) but we are are to assume it is decades, if not centuries, after Offred’s time.  It is written in the style of a transcription of a lecture, complete with notations of where audience applause/laughter/etc occurred.  Imagine a freshman history lecture at Random University, and you get the gist.  The topic of this lecture is the society of Gilead, and more specifically Offred’s tale–where it was found, what it was recorded with, how it was recovered and authenticated, etc.

This whole epilogue bothered me because it seemed like a let down; a gimmick.  It seemed to me that Atwood was trying, with a fictional postscript, to bolster the impact of the original story by trying to make it seem “real”.  So struck was I with this opinion, that I didn’t pursue any exploration of any other motives the author might have had for writing it.  Jason took something entirely different away from this extra-ending, valuing it as a teaching tool used to drive home a socio-political lesson.  Looked at this way, I totally get the importance, and could then even take it even a step further:  a commentary on the dualism of history.  While history seems to repeat itself (Gilead as Old Testament, Take 2), it is also doomed to never survive.  All man made cultures are evolutionary by nature and cannot remain rigid, or they will fall.  It also made me think that while Gilead struck me as hell on Earth, no sustaining culture/government is ever all good or all evil.  Gilead was part communist, part Lord-Tenant, and part capitalist, and unfortunately they just took all the wrong parts of each.

Has my position changed on the epilogue, you ask?  Yes, in terms of its relevance, but No in terms of my personal experience with the book.  As I said in my original review, I prefer to focus on the personal dilemma, not the macro-social one, though I admit I was errant to discard the epilogue as “self indulgent”.  Woopsies 🙂

Halfway Through…

Don’t you hate it when you are halfway through a book and then, for one reason or another, get stalled out on it?  That has been the case with Rabbit, Run by John Updike for me.  I have been so busy with the new twins that I haven’t been getting enough sleep (surprise, surprise), and wouldn’t you know it, reading isn’t very easy or fun when you are sleepy.  So, that’s my excuse for the delay, it has nothing to do with whether the book is good or not.  My goal is to finish it within the week and have a review posted by next week.

I’m going to use these nice, attainable goals to help add some structure to my pretty chaotic life.  Simple things like that help me feel more settled and purposeful.  When I have something to work toward, I find it forces me to budget my time more wisely (something I could really stand to do right now).  That said, I should warn you I am not always successful at this.  Still, keep an eye out for the Rabbit, Run review coming up soon.

P.S.  An update on the fam:  The twins are both doing well in their separate habitats, Jacob at home and Joshua still in the neonatal unit.  They are confident Josh will be coming home tomorrow, barring any setbacks!  Jacob is an eating, sleeping, pooping machine.  Literally.  He manufactures poop like no human I have ever met, including myself.  Mikey is doing well too; a couple little “cry for attention” type incidents, but nothing big at all.  He is very sweet and gentle with his new brother–such a sweet big brother!  And Bridget is almost totally healed from the C-section.  She can move about on her own without a problem, and is able to sleep on her side or back.

So, right now all we can do is keep on keeping on.  As Sisyphus would say, “Onward and Upward!”

Twins, home and away

For those of you who don’t know (which is probably none of you, since I think a total of four people read this blog, all of whom know what’s going on in my life) my wife and I had twins last Friday.  Jacob and Joshua were born at 34 weeks, 2 days.  Obviously, this is a little preterm, so they were small, and Joshua was much smaller than Jacob.  Both of them have spent the last week in the Neonatal Special Care Nursery at the hospital, but tomorrow we get to bring one of them home.  We are absolutely thrilled, but were taken a little off-guard at the myriad other emotions we felt as well.

My sister, Martha, once told me that parenthood is all about guilt.  She has a 4 year old boy and a 2 year old little girl at home, so she knows what she is talking about when it comes to parenting.  Still, I kind of dismissed her statement with a laugh and a non-commital “no kidding.”  But let me tell you, how right she was!!!  Of course the statement is a bit on the dramatic side for effect, but I get the point now.  Really, parenting is all about love, and my sister would be the first to agree.  However, what most people don’t tell you is that when you love something as much as you love your kids, an unavoidable side effect is a great big bucket of guilt.  It’s not just guilt, though.  It’s a whole realm of emotions that is just easier to group under the category heading of GUILT.  Anxiety, apprehension, self-loathing, fear, and a bunch more.

I want to admit something that I think many expecting parents who already have one child may be reluctant to disclose:  I was extremely worried about whether or not I would be able to love the twins as much as I love Michael (our two year old).  Every experienced parent simply says “Oh don’t worry, you just will,” with supreme confidence.  That confidence did comfort me somewhat, but I also still kind of felt like an adolescent who just knows that no one could possibly understand how they feel because no one has felt this strongly about their first child.  Now your guilt is threefold—you’re guilty for your current child for making him share you, you’re guilty for your unborn child because you can’t fathom loving anything more than your first, and above all you feel guilty for just thinking about such things to begin with.

***UPDATE*** So, today we brought Jacob home.  We are absolutely thrilled and, of course, absolutely guilt-ridden.  Joshua left alone at the hospital, and Mikey’s little world and schedule totally turned upside down.  As I write this I know we are not the first parents to feel this way, and we know that this too will become comfortable and normal for everyone—us and the little guys.  But I figured it was worth mentioning to the masses in case anyone else felt this way and stumbled across this blog–you are not alone!  And now I get to be one of those parents who can say “don’t worry, you just will.”  As soon as I met my youngest two boys, I was not only smitten, but also very aware of how different they already were from Mikey and each other.

The Handmaid’s Tale

The second book I chose was The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood.  A work of fiction, this was a change of pace from the first book I reviewed.  Also, while Klosterman’s book was a collection of short essays, this book is in the more traditional novel format.  Since the genre and style of the book has changed, so must my reviewing style, and I will be writing this review with the assumption that you have already read the book.  So be advised, if you aren’t familiar with the story, you will encounter spoilers below.

I finished reading The Handmaid’s Tale almost two weeks ago, and am just now getting around to writing my review of it.  I wish I could say that I consciously did this, purposely taking the time to digest and reflect upon the book.  The truth is, I have just been extremely busy and have not gotten around to it until now.  Now, that is not to say that I didn’t find myself reflecting on the story anyway, I just didn’t plan to take a two week break between reading and writing.      This break, however unintentional, was very useful in delving deeper into the themes of the story, and exploring the symbolism within (I now plan on giving future books a little time to “settle” before I review them).

Unfortunately, I often find myself drawing conclusions about a story while I am still reading it.  While this initially seems intuitive, it actually is a direct affront to many works.  In fiction, the climax of the story typically comes at the end, along with the most unexpected twists.  It is usually the most memorable, and more importantly the most representative part of the plot.  The same hold true in movies, as The Usual Suspects immediately comes to mind:  widely considered to be a great movie, it is actually composed of 95% (in terms of portion/length/time) good movie, and 5% awesome ending.  Had you only watched 2/3 of this movie and walked away, you would probably wonder what all the fuss was about.  The same holds true when drawing conclusions about a book before it’s read in its entirety.  In fact, the beginning of most classic fiction is extremely boring to me—it’s the painting of the backdrop; literature’s equivalent of set design.  To begin drawing conclusions on merit of plot at this point would simply be uninformed, unintelligent, and most of all unfair to the author, yet I still catch myself doing it.  So, my little break helped me overcome this approach and look at the book in its entirety, rather than in portions.

In the case of The Handmaid’s Tale, the setting/climate of the book is arguably a more important character than our protagonist Offred.  It was absolutely essential for Atwood to go into the depth she did about the setting and culture of dystopian Gilead for several reasons.  First, and most obviously, this is a work of western literature/fiction—there is no comparable culture to Gilead in this realm.  The entire concept of this way of life is foreign to most readers, I would suspect.  Secondly, the day to day life of Offred is quite mundane.  While her feelings are not simple, her way of life is, hyper-structured to the point that walking to the market is the highlight of her week.  In other words, the events and items that are of interest to Offred–a walk, a pillow, the smell of flowers—are those that are often overlooked by us since we have so much more stimuli in our lives.  Thirdly, and most importantly, is the need to convey the claustrophobic nature of the world in which Offred lives.  Atwood goes to great lengths to detail every aspect of Offred’s world, down to the stitching of her garments.

On an intangible level, the one word that best describes this story is tension. From the very beginning of the book we are thrown into this strange new world, much like the main character.  Unsettled and disoriented, we the reader are then thrust into a lifestyle where the slightest action is regulated, down to where one even directs their gaze.  As I continued on in the book, I felt the same growing restlessness and oppression Offred must have felt.  The same restlessness any prisoner must feel, especially one who is held in a prison without walls—a prison where there is the possibility of escape, if the captive could only muster the courage to leave.  The mere existence of this environment should be enough to foretell to us the reader that something is bound to give.  Alas, we not only see the actions of Offred become more reckless, but also those of the people surrounding her, which is logical, as they are all residents of this same environment, albeit on a different side of the “bars”.

**One interesting thing I noticed was that there was no clear cut antagonist, apart from the culture/government itself.  It wasn’t Offred vs the Commander, or even Offred vs Serena Joy.  Atwood makes it clear that these flawed characters are just as unhappy and victimized as Offred, possibly even more so.

Another point:  symbolism.  It’s present in many forms throughout the novel, but one image sticks out more than the rest to me–flowers.  Offred shows a clear fascination with flowers, and while she never spells it out for the reader, I believe she is truly remarking on the handmaids and herself.  Beautiful, wild flowers, blooming and wilting as direct consequence to the environment they are subjected to, and seemingly powerless to leave it.  The handmaid as a blossoming flower full of life (hopefully, literally when impregnated), and also often withering in spirit (often ending in suicide); unable to leave on their own.  I didn’t really catch it at first, but I began to notice the repeated in-depth detailing of flowers, especially the ones in Serena Joy’s garden.

While I can definitely see the book’s merit as a sociopolitical commentary, that is probably the element of the novel that interests me the least.  I care much more about what the characters are feeling on an emotional level as opposed to what point Atwood is trying to make about society.  It may be that she is advocating a strict separation of church and state.  Or perhaps her motives are more feminist in nature, implying women have been forced into submissive roles in our culture.  None of those conclusions would be incorrect, they simply don’t hit home with me as much as it does to think about Offred, alone in her prison-room, not knowing the fate of her child and lover.

I know I am getting long winded here, but let me share one final thought.  The most chilling thing about this story to me wasn’t the society in which they lived.  It wasn’t even the dehumanization of the handmaids that the society dictates, turning them into procreational vessels.  For me the most heart-rending thing to endure was Offred’s slow, steady loss of hope.  Near the end, she even becomes appreciative of her station in life, thankful for its simplicity, finally successfully brainwashed.

***While I liked the open ending of the book, I did not feel the epilogue was necessary.  It seemed self-indulgent to me, but at the same time, easy to disregard as not a part of the real story.

Final verdict:  read this book, but read it with patience.  Don’t gloss over all the imagery (as I tend to do) because in this book, it really is necessary.  Its not just the author trying to be eloquent.

Up next….Rabbit, Run by John Updike

Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs

Cover

I recently decided to start reading again.  Literature, that is.  And while I am not excluding any topics or genres, I am primarily directing my attention toward classic modern philosophy (an oxymoron, I know) and classic fiction.  I have felt an urge lately to become both more self aware and more creative, and I feel this is the best literary avenue to explore that.  My goal is to use this space to write a response on each title I read.  However, these will not be what you traditionally consider to be book reports—I am going to be exploring specifically what these titles meant to me, what reaction I have (if any) and whether or not I feel the content of the book can be of what I consider any use to others.

It is somewhat ironic, then, that the first book I have chosen explores basically the same ideals, only instead of other books being the topic, eclectic modern people/events/entertainment are the focus.  Sex, Drugs and Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman is a collection of essays commenting on multiple pop culture topics; a self-described “low culture manifesto”.  Klosterman writes about all manner of topics, and while the specific subject matter of each essay deals with something seemingly dissimilar from the last, there is a common theme that connects all items in the book:  taking something seemingly arbitrary or meaningless created (or existing) in “pop culture” and extrapolating a deeper meaning from it, which Klosterman then somehow manages to apply to nearly all mankind (i.e. “there are two kinds of people in the world…”).

A prime example of this is in the “dirty” middle portion of the book.  Using internet pornography and Pamela Anderson as his fundementals, Klosterman presents arguably some of his deepest, most widely reaching paradigms of humanity of the entire book.  According to him, internet pornography is almost solely responsible for the advancement of web-related technology, and in turn, the advancement (or de-evolution, depending on how you look at it) of electronic human interaction.  Similarly, he insists that the most important piece of video he owns is Pam Anderson’s sex tape with then husband Tommy Lee, as it is basically a look at society’s subconscious concept of what it means to be a celebrity, and on a larger scale, what qualities today’s society values.

I’m not addressing the validity his arguments—they are parallels that he chose to make for himself—but I will say that they are certainly parallels I would have never come up with on my own.  Whether that statement is an endorsement of a higher intellect or labeling him an absurdist, I really don’t know—he shows flashes of both.  There is no question Klosterman is certainly a fantastic writer, and knows how to manipulate literary device to express exactly what point he wants to get across.   It’s the reader’s job to decide if these arguments are something they can buy into.  But I firmly believe that whether you buy what he’s selling or not, Klosterman could care less.

Many times while reading the book, I got the impression of Klosterman as someone that knows he is smarter than you, and just testing you, the reader.  He reminds me of the type of guy you meet at a party that will debate you in great length over some irrelevant detail or innocuous comment you may have made, just to see if he can get you to change your position on it (and many times succeeding, just to then say “I was just kidding, I can’t believe you changed your mind!”).  In other words, I think he makes many of his observations simply because he can, and is in turn curious about challenging your reasons for believing what you do.  I wouldn’t be surprised if these aforementioned parallels just occur to him as possibilities, and since he is fully aware that these are not common observations made by the layman, he will push them just to see if he can get someone to bite.  Take his dissection of Saved by the Bell for example.  He posits that the cast of Saved by the Bell are incredibly accurate social archetypes, not because they embody a type of person specifically, but because they embody nobody wholly, thus making them more malleable to a greater audience.  Hearing his argument, you initially say “of course, that makes perfect sense!  Why didn’t I think of that?”  But then later, you find yourself thinking, “Wait a second, its Saved by the Bell. a) How deep a connection can actually be made, and b) these characters are so over the top, the same argument could be made that they can’t realistically be related to anybody, ever.”

I just realized that it seems like I am bashing the book, or giving it a negative review.  This is not the case.  While I did at times feel the victim of a little TMI, overall I found the book to be extremely entertaining and enlightening.  I found myself starting to think in the same context as Klosterman—everything seen, read, touched, experienced or encountered is possibly holding the key to understanding…I don’t know, humanity or something…and just needs to be deconstructed.  It’s refreshing and maddening at the same time, but definitely not dull.