Ian McEwan, funny man

Tonight, Ian McEwan read from his new book On Chesil Beach at the 92nd Street Y. The novel has gotten mixed to negative reviews, but McEwan is a wonderful reader and gave great voice to the selections he read. He read for almost an hour, introducing his two main characters and then reading a hefty selection from each of their perspectives. Though the poor review still give me pause, hearing him tonight reinvigorates me to read Amsterdam and Enduring Love, which have been on my to-be-read list for a while.

It didn’t surprise me that I enjoyed the reading, but what I didn’t anticipate was how funny McEwan would be during the Q&A. His sense of humor is a bit dry, soft pedaled, and thoroughly enjoyable.

A few of McEwan’s thoughts…
On independent bookstores: “Intense outposts of civilization.”
On reading groups: “The lifeblood of literary fiction.”
On how much of his work is autobiographical (paraphrased): It wouldn’t be possible for a Martian to write about sex on earth without having experienced sex with an earthling. I freely admit to having had sex with earthlings.

Writers who have influenced him include: Saul Bellows, Phillip Roth, Norman Mailer, John Updike, and William S. Burroughs, and he relies on visual details to evoke emotions in his writing. With up to 40% of the brain involved in visual processing, he believes these details are the most effective method of reaching his readers.

In addition to appreciating the opportunity to hear a wonderful novelist read from his work and speak about his experiences as a writer, I love that so many other New Yorkers also appreciate it. Waiting for the reading to begin, I started talking with the woman next to me about our favorite books, respective book club reading choices, and the new movie adaptation of Lady Chatterley’s Lover. These random connections are priceless.

Knocked Up on a Saturday Night

Last night I went to see Knocked Up, along with about 400,000 other New Yorkers (seriously, people were sitting in the aisles at the Sony Lincoln Center. What is this, a Star Wars premier?). The movie didn’t have as many full on belly laughs as I had hoped or predicted, but it’s still worth seeing if you like the Judd Apatow school of funny. The excellent cast is definitely part of its charm; in addition to my favorite Apatow clan regulars (Seth Rogen, Jason Segel, Paul Rudd, etc.), I really enjoyed Alan Tudyk as an E! executive. Funniest of all, though, was Kristen Wiig (apparently of SNL fame, though I didn’t know that since I almost never watch SNL). She only has a handful of scenes, but she steals every single one she’s in. Hi-larious.

I also made an appearance at my friend Michael’s birthday party, which was fun. I love other people’s parties as a chance to catch up with friends I don’t get to see much.

The Line of Beauty

I just finished reading Alan Hollinghurst's The Line of Beauty, which came highly recommended by Anne and Josh. Because I trust their opinions so much, I anticipated loving this book, too. It's 1980s London, and the novel's protagonist, Nick Guest, moves in with an Oxford friend's wealthy, politically influential, and conservative family, where he adopts a life he wasn't raised to anticipate. As a novice to the systematic social rules and demands, he both relishes and scrutinizes his role in this new world. Surrounded by temptations, he falls into typical patterns of excess while trying to live up to a vague but keenly-felt sense of obligation. Hollinghurst tracks Nick's life over four years of sexual awakening, social climbing, experimentation, and tragedy.

It took a while for me to be firmly pulled into The Line of Beauty, because Hollinghurst's style is somewhat cold. This coolness, though, smartly reflects the carefully created facades employed by so many of the characters; the style helps pull the reader into the world Nick inhabits. The writing throughout is beautiful, and I second Anne's and Josh's raves.

It needed more skating

I went to one of Broadway's latest movies-turned-legit productions tonight--Xanadu: On Broadway. I went in knowing that it would be ridiculous and hoping that it would be utterly enjoyable nonetheless. To start with the positive, I really liked the two leads. Kerry Butler (Shelly in Bat Boy: The Musical and Penny in Hairspray) has great comic timing and embraces the silliness in her role without going over the top. James Carpinello (Saturday Night Fever) isn't the world's greatest singer, but he was very charming and strong on his skates. Some of the directing and staging was very clever, and people who love the music from the movie will love much of it here, too. I also loved the fact that the finale includes a skating ringer who wears head-to-toe sparkles, skates rings around the cast, and is never seen in any other part of the show. The randomness is in keeping with the musical as a whole.

Unfortunately, not everything was quite so rosy. Mary Testa and Jackie Hoffman provide the alleged comic relief. Despite the fact that most of the audience was howling at their broad, big, and over-the-top scenes (of which there were many), I would rather punch these two women in the face than sit through their bits again. Sadly, too, the show needed a great deal more actors on skates. Kerry Butler skates through most of the show, but James Carpinello only rolls around for a few songs. The rest of the cast laces up only for the underwhelming finale. There should have been not just one skating genius here but many, many extras skating laps around the stage amid disco lights and laser lights galore.

My qualified recommendation sums up like this: one of the people sitting next to me reeked of marijuana. I think a toke or two would probably make this whole affair a lot funnier.

Every weekend should be a long weekend

It was so good to have an extra day to play this weekend. The weather was perfect and I had just the right mix of lazy Netflix-watching time (Alpha Dog and a disturbing documentary about pedophiliac priests called Deliver Us From Evil) and time to catch up with friends. Caryn and Larry were in town for their five-year anniversary, and I got to crash romance-a-palooza for lunch with them on Saturday before they went to a matinee of Avenue Q. It's hard to believe they've been married five years already!

Melissa was in town for the weekend, and I got to have drinks with her and her boyfriend, Jim, on Sunday. I think it's been a full year since we've seen each other which is shameful. It was so much fun to see her again that I think I need a weekend out in Chicago sometime soon. Melissa knows what motivates me, so she promised we could order from Pockets while I'm there.

And, with my extra day of leisure, I got to catch up with Josh and Todd over lunch at Popovers.

Sadly, now I have to go back to work.

The Thirteenth Tale

I started The Thirteenth Tale with fairly high expectations. I've had a thing for historical fiction lately, and this novel is all about a writer and her book-obsessed biographer. A book about books and the quiet stories that we can hear all around us if we only listen properly? Sounded perfect.

Unfortunately, Diane Setterfield, after a strong start, loses momentum half-way through. She's clearly trying to create a spooky atmosphere and sense of longing among her characters, but she lays it on a little thick and fails in evoking the eeriness she strives for. Margaret Lea, invited to write the biography of Britain's most reclusive best selling novelist, Vida Winter, is the protagonist for half of the book. When not playing amateur detective confirming Miss Winter's tale, she mostly fills the reader in on her own sorrow. The root of her sadness, though strongly tied to the book's themes, never rings quite true and left me unsatisfied.

The more compelling portion of the novel is Miss Winter's story. This story-within-the-story comes closest to achieving Setterfield's atmospheric goal, and is certainly the heart of the book. Miss Winter is one half of a pair of disturbed and neglected twins. Their once grand house is literally falling down around them while the mental illnesses and bizarre lifestyles of family members leaves them with only each other for comfort.

I wish Setterfield had trusted her readers a bit more. She spells things out unnecessarily and doesn't let the reader put the pieces together herself. Her mystery is not so complex as to require quite the level of handholding she provides. Ultimately, I enjoyed The Thirteenth Tale, but it didn't quite live up to its promise.

Wondering if Gore will run again...

I just watched Al Gore on The Daily Show. I wish he had been this personable when he was running for president! His new book, The Assault on Reason looks really interesting (The New York Times review made it sound scorching), and I can only imagine how different this country would be if he had been recongnized as the winner in 2000. Like everyone else, I'm eager to find out if he'll run again this time around. I think he could actually kick some ass if he did: let Barack and Hillary beat each other up over the next nine months and then swoop in and snag the nomination.