Verbisaurus Blogicus

With over 99% of the decade behind us (my decade started in 2000, not 2001), I thought I’d take the time to do a few “best of” lists. Since school’s done for the semester, I hope to put these lists up pretty quick. I’m gonna start with my favorite albums. I will follow this up with a list of TV shows, motion pictures, and novels, but I’ll begin with the least-defensible list. I’d love to hear what your favorites are, too. For the purposes of this list, the albums must have a release date of January 1, 2000 or later.

10. I’m Wide Awake, It’s Morning (Bright Eyes, 2005)
I first listened to this album when a co-worker said, “Here, you might like this.” And I did.

9. Brainwashed (George Harrison, 2001)
Here’s someone who, I swear, never made a bad album. This was his final one, and it’s just as good as his previous albums. I guess there’s nothing on this album that totally blew me away, but each song, taken in and of itself, left me thinking, “that was a good song.”

8. Drunken Lullabies (Flogging Molly, 2002)
This is like rock and roll meets the Renaissance Festival. I have three Flogging Molly albums, and they’re all pretty much the same (so I don’t think I’ll be getting more); but this one’s the best of the bunch. Probably best listened to in an Irish pub following a soocer game. Just a hunch.

7. Don’t Tread on Me (311, 2006)
A fun band that, finally, appeared to have disposed of the rap. This album just seemed to come out at the right time for me. I listened to it in my car rides to and from work in ’05, and it made the car rides quicker. Maybe ’cause I was speeding.

6. Use Your Voice (Mason Jennings, 2004)
I didn’t even know Mason Jennings existed until a year before this album was released, but he’s gotta be my favorite musician of the decade. This is an enjoyable mix of solemn tunes and outright fun ditties. I could probably sing this album from cover-to-cover (does that even make sense?).

5. Surprise (Paul Simon, 2006)
Okay, so I liked You’re the One, Paul’s 2001 effort, but it was kind of slow. I kept wondering if he even bothered to get out of bed to record the thing. I don’t know if he did, but he made up for it with Surprise, for my money, his best album since Graceland. Amazing songs in a rich, sonic landscape (yeah, that’s what the liner notes call it) with, as should be expected from Paul, extremely infectious lines.

4. Songs of Bo ReDoubt (Ryan Sutter, 2006)
I always had this idealized dream of the kind of music my friends could make if all the pieces ever fell together just right, and I think this album is it. When I first heard “Hue & Cry” I thought: “Wow, he actually did it – this is a one of those songs that’s actaully gonna be stuck in my head now!” I really liked it and I kept playing it. In fact, I just checked, and it’s the most played song on my iTunes (and, no, there’s not just 10 songs on there). Oh – the rest of the album is great, too. An eclectic mix harking back to Ryan’s early, weird stuff, plus some great tunes on a variety of deep topics. (Download the album for free at the link provided.)

3. All That You Can’t Leave Behind (U2, 2000)
After waiting nearly a decade for some actual songs from U2 (as opposed to just experiments with electrical equipment), I was quite pleased when I first heard “Beautiful Day” on the radio for the first time, and I immediately went out and bought the album. Though the lead-off track is a great song, there are three or four on the album that are even better. Though the album kind of tapers off at the end, with more of a whimper than a satisfying denouement, it’s still a great album. Too bad they’ve been asleep at the wheel ever since.

2. Century Spring (Mason Jennings, 2002)
See? I told you I liked Mason Jennings. I don’t think I dislike anything he’s ever done, and this album is the cream of the crop. “Sorry Signs on Cash Machines,” “Forgiveness,” “Bullet,” and the title track are all among my favorite songs. This is one strong album.

1. Smile (Brian Wilson, 2004)
I initially listened to this as a favor to a friend, but within the first two minutes, I was hooked. This is pretty much what an album should be – a cohesive, coordinated, concept. It’s not quite pop and it’s not quite avant-garde; it’s whole is better than any genre. It’s – as one of my co-workers titled it – the Dark Side of the Beach Boys. “Mrs. Oleary’s Cow,” incidentally, is my favorite track on the album. It manages to excitedly tell the whole story of Chicago’s Great Fire…without saying a word. One of the critics at the link provided above said: “…quite simply the greatest triumph in the history of pop music.” I whole-heartedly concur. Smile made me smile. It’s Brilliant. Just brilliant.

As I seem to be too busy these days to formulate a thorough review of recent reads, I hereby opine on these books in a supremely low-quality form of verse. If it seems like there’s an unusual preponderance of books on American History, it’s because I’ve had to read them for my current class:

Into Temptation, the new film written and directed by Patrick Coyle, takes its viewers on a trip through guilt, sin, and redemption. The film explores the causes and effects in a person’s life that lead, ultimately, to desperate decisions.

     If it sounds like heavy subject matter, it is. But the film manages to not get bogged down in pity for its characters, though it relies heavily on religious motivations and traditions. Those who have never been Catholic, and particularly those who have never been religious, may find it difficult to sympathize with Linda’s desire for absolution.

     Linda, played by Kristin Chenoweth (better known as Olive from Pushing Daisies) is a prostitute seeking to get all her affairs – excuse the pun, please – in order before she ends her existence. Though her actions belie it – it’s been 19 years since her last confession – she’s apparently never mentally left the Catholic Church, and she looks for solace by visiting a confessional booth just as the priest is hoping to end his shift.

     The tale of her life, frustratingly excised from the scene, coupled with his impending need to perform mass, leave the priest at a loss for words – so much, in fact, that he neglects his duty to the wayward soul. Linda leaves, without being forgiven, and Father Buerlein (played by Jeremy Sisto) spends the rest of the film searching out this fallen Catholic.

     Buerlein’s search is a maddening race against the clock. He knows only Linda’s birthday (she intends to take her life on her birthday) and the sound of her voice. He tries to sketch her appearance, but seeing her only obliquely through the screen of a confessional booth, he knows only the shape of her mouth, her neck, and her chest (donned, appropriately, with a cross nestled in a plunging neckline). Buerlein seeks out the assistance of neighbors, taxicab drivers, bartenders, and fellow priest Father O’Brien, played by Brian Baumgartner (better known as Kevin from the Office), whose cynicism and greed paint a striking juxtaposition between the two religious leaders. In time, Buerlein has no other choice but to go literally into temptation, and our hapless hero soon finds himself hobnobbing with pimps, prostitutes, and criminals as he visits night clubs, adult stores, and seedy back alleys.

     Again, for non-believers, the characters challenges may seem a little trite and his difficulties unfounded. But without the limitations and structure imposed by his religion, the film would have little to go on. As it is, Buerlein openly expresses his own doubts and his unease with the rigidity; in one scene, he tells a parishioner he isn’t sure if prayer even works. In another, appalls his congregation by using unsavory words. “Let’s say a prayer for the bastard who mugged me,” he says from the pulpit.

     Into Temptation transpires in Minneapolis, and it offers many scenes and shots of places familiar to Twin Cities residents. The film is beautifully bookended with flashbacks to Linda’s childhood, both of which shed light on the story that unfolds in between. Apart from a pointless subplot featuring the return of Buerlein’s former lover, the story is tight and the pacing adequate. Go see this film before it leaves the few theaters it’s in.

Bottom Line: B

As the 1990s began, I realized I was reading LOTS of books. I was probably averaging about one book a week. But I noticed something: I was only reading non-fiction. In fact, the only fiction I had read up to that time (excluding children’s book, such as Dr. Seuss) were the novels that had been read to me in class, such as Charlotte’s Web and The Secret of NIMH. Well-meaning friends and relatives, mistakenly assuming I liked fiction, purchased novels for me, and they sat on my shelves for years…until I finally dumped them off at the Goodwill. In fact, of the 50 or so novels that people bought for me when I was a kid, the only one I ever took it upon myself to read was Stuart Little. Authored by the same man who wrote Charlotte’s Web, I figured it must be good.

So, in 1990, I decided that if I was to consider myself literate, I would need to start incorporating fiction into my reading diet. I set up a plan wherein I would read one novel every month beginning in September 1990. I wanted to make sure I read modern classics – works of fiction that had become timeless treasures in our libraries.

I pretty much had no idea where to begin. I looked at a list of “great” books that I found posted on a library wall. I hadn’t heard of any of them, so I wondered how great they truly were. Then, in a flash of brilliance, I decided to cull from that rocking list of historical events from the past half century: Billy Joel’s “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

I’m sure you recall that insightful line where Joel poetically intones: “Rosenburgs H-bomb Sugar Ray Panmunjon Brando the King and I and the Catcher in the Rye.”

So, in early September 1990 – the same day I began 10^th grade – I likewise began my journey into the world of great literature.

And I was underwhelmed.

It’s not, mind you, that I hated Catcher, it’s just that I didn’t get what the big deal was. This is considered one of the best novels of our century? And it doesn’t even have a plot? Huh? It’s just some kid wandering around New York. Who cares? I mean, I liked his frank honesty about everything – especially how he thought school was phony and nuns were hypocrites…but couldn’t the Salinger have wrapped those insights into a moving tale? Apparently not.

I hoped October would bring something better. For that month, I again turned to Billy Joel for a suggested read, and soon found myself forcing myself to read the dry, rambling, aimless, pointless, X-less (where “X” stands for any quality one may want in a story) waste of paper known as On the Road. In debating with a fellow student about the merits of this novel, she offered this: “Ah, yes, but Kerouac can turn such a good phrase.” Yes, I suppose he can. But far from simply turning a good phrase, I would’ve liked to have seen him turn a good tale. (I suppose this is the opposite problem of the far more readable Dan Brown, who can spin a good yarn but has nary a memorable line in any of his works.)

In November, I read Stranger in a Strange Land (again at the suggestion of Joel) hoping that a Sci Fi tale would at least be palatable. Though I applaud its ability to contain a plot (that’s 1 for 3!), the last third of the book was a mental wasteland.

December equaled The Old Man and the Sea, which easily would have been the crappies book I’d ever read if not for my October experience (see above). A grumpy man with whom I had no concern, struggles to bring a decaying fish back to shore. Whoop-de-fucking-doo.

In January I read Of Mice and Men. Not bad, but certainly not great. In February I read what is probably the greatest example of a botched good idea in the history of sci fi: Fahrenheit 451. In March a read The Metamorphosis, a rambling and belaboring tale that seemed to have something to say, but never succeeded. When I saw it listed on the syllabus for one of my classes this fall, I nearly wanted to drop out of the class (and I ultimately did).

In April, May and June, I read Flowers for Algernon, Johnny Got His Gun and 1984, respectively. And my faith in humanity’s ability to write a good a novel was restored.

Still, I was jaded. In the six years that followed, I read exactly one novel. Needless to say, I’m a lot more picky now.

So long; I’m gonna get back to this book on American History that I’m reading.

 Bottom Line:

The Catcher in the Rye: C

On the Road: F

Stranger in a Strange Land: D

The Old Man and the Sea: F

Of Mice and Men: C

Fahrenheit 451: C

The Metamorphosis: D

Flowers for Algernon: A

Johnny Got His Gun: A

1984: A

In a bold-face plagerism of my wife’s idea, I here offer my thoughts on the latest books I’ve read…

1. Godless (by Dan Barker)

Okay, first of all: great cover!  Second, what’s with that subtitle?  I think I should make a list of books that don’t fit the theme of their subtitle.  Barker spends the first chapter of his book detailing his life as a bible-thumping missionary/preacher/musician, then devotes chapter two (and only chapter two) to a brief synopsis of how he became an atheist.  In fact, it was so brief, I can’t even tell you exactly why he felt the need to examine his faith, or what, exactly, caused him to wake up from theism. 

In the remaining 18 (or so) chapters, Barker jumps from one godless topic to another: in one chapter, he tells of court cases his foundation (the Freedom From Religion Foundation) has battled to uphold separation of church and state.  In another chapter, he humorously points out the implausibility of an ominpotent and omniscient god.  These chapters are fun, informative reading, and they offer the theist LOTS to think about (and give free-thinkers plenty of responses!).  I just found it odd how disconnected the chapters were.  It’s especially weird considering the books begins as a biography – a genre that typically weaves its chapters together very tightly.

Bottom line: B

2. Why Don’t Penguins Feet Freeze? (compilation)

I purchased this book in a desperate attempt to find something to read before begininning the 4+ hour trip home from our vacation last week.  I’m not sure what to call this type of book (Q and A?  General knowledge?), but this kind of book is usually a safe bet with me.  I’ve read dozens of books like it, wherein a question is asked and then answered.  They’re fun to read, because they’re usually questions that only briefly pop into one’s mind during the day, but when you see the question in print, you think, ‘yeah, I have always wondered that’. Just listing off some of the book titles I’ve read will give you an idea of the kind of questions that are answered: How Does Aspirin Find a Headache?  Why Do Men Fall Fall Asleep After Sex? When Did Wild Poodles Roam the Earth? The cliche (regardless of author or publisher)  seems to be to name the book after one question found in the book.  I find this stupid, as it gives browsers the impression that there’s a whole book dedicated to (in this case) penguins’ feet.  The best books like this that I’ve read are David Feldman’s Imponderables series, Cecil Adam’s Straight Dope Series, and the book What’s the Difference?  This book, I have to say, is the worst of the bunch.  The thing that makes the other books great is the research that goes into them: industry and scholastic professionals are contacted, experiments are performed, and old history is dug up.  Not so this book – this book’s authors spent no time doing such pesky work.  They merely posted questions online, and selected the best (and often conflicting) responses for each question.  In fact, I can’t even tell you the answers to any question in the book, because any info I may have retained is suspect due to the fact that, no sooner did I read one answer, then I read the next answer which pointed out why the first one was wrong.  If you want to read stuff like this, just type your question into Yahoo and see what sort of responses you get from various, um, yahoos. 

(When I got back to Minnesota, I returned this book.  The ‘authors’ didn’t deserve my money.)

Bottom line: F

3. Disbelief 101 (S.C. Hitchcock)

Well, if you’re a friend of mine, chances are you won’t learn anything new from this book.  And that’s not an indictment of the book, no, it’s a comment on your age.  Disbelief is intelligently designed to appeal to the tween/early-teen crowd, and it does a superb job. 

The book is divided into several brief chapters that build on each other, explaining the absurdity of believing in god(s).  The book endeavors to shine light on the flaws of all religions but, as the author notes, ends up dwelling on the three ‘great’ monotheisms.  This only makes sense, as the book was prublished & is being marketed in the US. 

Hitchcock beautifully addresses concerns and fears a young person may have regarding casting aside faith. He even adivses youths on how to deal with their rational thinking should they happen to live in a household where dissenting opinions are forbidden.  This struck a chord with me – had I the audacity to pick up this book when I was, say, ten, the first three pages are probably would have had time to read before my Watchtower-sponsored guilt kicked in and told me to put the book back on the shelf.  But the author, knowing this sort of behavior is rampant amongst fundies, spends those three pages calming his readers & telling them it’s okay to set such ideas aside until free of well-intentioned care-givers who would likely not understand. 

Hitchcock makes the argument that, while phyiscal abuse is not tolerated in this country, mental abuse gets a free ride: punch your kid in the face, and the cops will come to your door.  Tell them that god will burn them forever in hell if they don’t accept Jesus into their heart, and everyone applauds your faith.  Good point. 

Oh, BTW, the best part of the book is the hilarious illustrations.

Bottom Line: A

4. The Invention of Hugo Cabret  (Brian Selznick)

Holy (insert expletive of choice)!  This was one phenomenal book!

I first spotted this book at Border’s a few weeks ago & thumbed through it.  I was surprised to see such a thick book (it’s over 500 pages) in the children’s section.  It looked intriguing, but I didn’t have the cash to buy it.  Fast forward to the mad-dash while on vacation (see above) and I contemplated buying it again.  Alas, I didn’t want to bring such a big book in an already crowded car.  So I finally picked it up from the library on Friday, and I had finished reading it by Saturday afternoon.

Did I mention this is an awesome book? The story unfolds partly in text / partly in pencil drawings.  It begins, like a film, by drawing back the curtain on Paris, circa 1930, and tracking across the city, finally zooming in on a young orphan who lives behind the walls of the train station.  He fends for himself while hiding a couple of big secrets.  His spars with a local vendor he steals from (sorry for the spoiler, but, come on, it can’t be that revealing to learn that a homeless orphan has to steal food), befriends a young girl, and, well, I can’t really say anymore than that without ruining anything.  As the story progesses, the threads of Hugo’s life begin to come together, and the ending – full of surprises – is poingiant, satisfying, and just plain beautiful.  The book ends with an appendix (how many juvenile novels end with an appendix?)…which I actually read.  Yeah, that’s right, the book was so good, I read the appendix.  And it, in turn, offered several websites that I visited to find out more.

If you read this book, don’t do what I did (I flipped through the book before reading it, and, since much of the story is told in pictures, I had an inkling of what was going to unfold); just open to the first page, and begin reading. 

Suspense!  Pathos!  Beauty!  Humor!  I can find no defect in this work of art.

Bottom line: A