This book is delightful.
No really, that’s about it. What else can I say for a thirty-year-old cult classic? I had never read this novel but, like you, I had heard about it for years from myriad Adams groupies. I did go to see the recent film version, starring Mos Def, among others, on a date with one of those groupies and I loved the film. He complained that the jokes were stale because he knew them all. I found it funny and refreshing, and Alan Rickman is the Voice of God, so what was the problem again?
After finishing the novel I claimed that it was a comedy novel masquerading as sci-fi, then realized that I said that only to excuse myself for liking the book. You see, I’ve always had an aversion to all things science fiction. Anything with stars in it, whether it is wars or trek, leaves me in a cold shudder. I find the story lines, acting, dialogue, and direction, everything appalling. George Lucas has no place here.
Then I realized that I was full of shit. It started when I thought, “I hate sci-fi. Except for Futurama.” But I excused that because, you know, Futurama is a brilliant comedy, just with space and robots and aliens. Not really sci-fi. The I caught myself thinking, “I hate sci-fi, except for Futurama. Oh, and Firefly.” It didn’t take long for me to discover that my “I hate sci-fi, except…” list was a mile long. In addition to those wonderful shows, I love Flash Gordon, Blade Runner and Red Dwarf. I even have very fond memories of the Ken Barry/Sandy Duncan vehicle The Cat from Outer Space.
I’m even a fantasy nerd! I own all of Buffy and Angel on DVD, I collect the comics and Labyrinth is sitting on my DVD player right now! None of us are innocent. I may sneer at fans of Hans Solo, Captain Kirk, and Frodo, but I’d watch anything that Joss Whedon told me to.
It did not surprise me to learn that Adams wrote for Monty Python in the 1970s. I grew up watching Flying Circus and the related movies, which my parents supported. I think that Python, more than any other comedy show, is the glue that binds disparate groups of nerds together. Their kind of humor, topical and absurd, childish and mean-spirited, but always intelligent, is a proto-type for people like Whedon bringing humor to the genres of sci-fi and fantasy. I will never love Star Trek, because it isn’t thought provoking or funny to make up for the shoddy production and poor acting. But I will accept that, in some cases, I do like science fiction.
Monday, November 24, 2008
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Book 2: Boys Will Be Boys: The Glory Days and Party Nights of the Dallas Cowboys Dynasty
Yee-haw y’all! Remember the drama of Aikman, Irvin, Smith and Prime Time? Well strap yourselves in because Jeff Pearlman has pulled together every heart-wrenching story of hard knocks, pathetic losses, glorious plays and unbelievably scandalous behavior to deliver the thrilling, and often hilarious, story of the Dallas Cowboys dynasty of the 1990s.
Pearlman knows his audience well enough to start off with a bang. Did you know that at training camp in 1995 Michael Irvin stabbed a teammate in the neck with a pair of scissor? Over his place in the line to get his haircut? There is no more perfect metaphor for the downhill slide of the once mighty Cowboys who, by 1995, were showing the effects of three Super Bowl wins in four years, as well as all of the hard partying that accompanied it.
In 1989 the Dallas Cowboys were a dismal, but well-respected franchise. Dismal because of the team’s mediocre talent, respected because of Coach Tom Landry, who, despite many losses, was well loved for both his record and his hard-working Christian ethics. The face of the franchise was changed forever when the team was bought by devilish Arkansas oilman Jerry Jones, who immediately fired Landry and replaced him with University of Miami coach Jimmy Johnson, who was known less for his hard work and more for his helmet hair and the unabashed thuggery of his players.
Johnson and Jones represented a completely new way of football, one that allowed for players to party as hard on the field as they played on. And no disrespect to Landry, but Johnson was a new kind of coach, one who did not care about the race of his players. In an era where college coaches recruited black men, just not too many of them, Johnson was only interested in talent, no matter the package. He was also a brilliant drafter/trader of players. In some of his first acts as head coach, he drafted Troy Aikman and traded the legendary Herschel Walker for a bushel of veteran journeymen and high draft picks. Despite a losing first season (1-15!), Johnson built a team on the shoulders of future Hall of Famer's quarterback Troy Aikman, running back Emmitt Smith and receiver Michael Irvin.
It’s clear that Johnson and Jones were well aware of the Cowboys off the field antics with drugs, alcohol, strippers and prostitutes. Jones’ own love of booze and whores frequently saw him partying as hard, and often with the same women, as his players. Johnson, despite a love for drinking, only cared about winning. As long as players were on time, alert, and practiced hard, he didn’t care what they did at night. Michael Irvin was widely praised for being able to drink and fuck all night, but still be the first and last person at practice and in the weight room. Johnson was a tyrant of a coach, but the kind of tyrant who could mold players into champions. Under his tutelage the Cowboys won two consecutive Super Bowls, in 1991 and 1992.
The bizarre antics of the Cowboys did not just stop at cocaine and hookers. Defensive back Charles Haley, already crazy when he played with the 49ers, went insane in Dallas. He was known for masturbating in the locker room and in team meetings, saying things to his teammates like, “You know you want to suck it.” Now stop. Go back and read that sentence again.
Haley was not the only Cowboy with a legendary member and sexual appetite. Team members frequented the finest strip clubs in Dallas, but one they became notorious around the city, they started their own house of ill repute, known as the White House, in a quiet Dallas suburb. Within the White House Cowboy players could bring strippers, prostitutes and groupies for an orgy of sex, drugs and booze. Michael Irvin was well known for orchestrating sexual scenarios, by instructing women, in ones, twos, and threes, on what to do to specific teammates. Irvin and another player, Erik Williams were both later arrested for sexual assault (Irvin’s second arrest; after his first, for drug possession, he came to court in a floor-length mink coat). They were not convicted.
Do not think that the sum of the Cowboys was scandal. Much of Pearlman’s book in dedicated to their amazing play on the field. Non-football fans should not be afraid; Pearlman writes about games with great passion and in language that laymen can follow. If you do not watch football, you will still understand what happened in the game for the Cowboys to win, or lose.
For each of the players highlighted, and there are far more than just the stars of the team, we learn about their childhood, high school and college career, and what brought the to football and the Cowboys. Each story is simple and short, but it turns each player into a full human being, and not just a coke-snorting millionaire caricature. Pearlman also shares a lot of feel-good stories of the players’ charity, and not to just the standard groups of sick kids, but to other Cowboys staff and players. A standout story is that of cornerback Larry Brown. Days after his son Kristopher was born premature, doctors discovered that the infants brain had dissolved. The Browns chose to pull the plug, and in desperation of what to do and how to act, Brown took a private jet to play with his team that Sunday. On arrival, he found his teammates on the filed with “KB” stickers on their helmets. Brown played that day and the Cowboys won, dedicating the rest of their season to his son.
Brown’s story is incredibly touching, as he, a workmanlike player but no star, went on to become a Cowboy hero and MVP of their final Super Bowl win in 1995. After Super Bowl XXVIII, Jerry Jones was fed up with Coach Jimmy Johnson taking what he felt should be shared credit for the Cowboys’ back to back wins, and fired him. He replaced Johnson with Barry Switzer, former coach of the University of Oklahoma Sooners, who had been forced to resign in disgrace.
Switzer was both a wonderful and terrible fit for the Cowboys. His relaxed “we’re all friends here” attitude was a relief to a team that had suffered under Johnson’s tyranny, but Switzer had a lot less coaching acumen. On top of that, he loved wine, women and song as much as his players and boss. It was in the Switzer era that the White House opened, that players started getting arrested (for assault, for DUIs, for drugs), and that egos went unchecked. Coach Switzer didn’t care if players were late to practice or slept through meetings. He supported Jones’ hiring of Deion “Prime Time” Sanders, a man so talented that he could afford to be lazy in practice, which set a bad example for the younger members of the team.
Most importantly, Switzer could not form a positive relationship with Aikman. Aikman felt that Switzer was a fool and a patsy for Jones, and that many team losses were his fault (all true). Switzer also made the grave mistake of punishing Aikman for accusations of racism by an assistant coach (whose pump had been primed by Sanders), which split the locker room in half. On one side were Aikman and his best friend and team brother, Michael Irvin, as well as all of the veteran players who followed them, on the other were Sanders and the younger players who admired his skill and flashy ways. It was a schism that the team did not recover from.
In Switzer’s first season the Cowboys made the playoffs, but did not advance past the first round. In his second year, the Cowboys made the Super Bowl. For this Super Bowl the Cowboys invented the “Port-A-Skank” concept, by hiring limos to bring favorite prostitutes from Dallas to Tempe, Arizona, so as not to fall prey to local, untrustworthy women. Super Bowl XXX is also noteworthy for the poor play of the Cowboys in the face of the Pittsburgh Steelers, as well as being the first big game the team had played in front of an audience that was not primarily Dallas backers, The tide had turned against “America’s Team” and they one mainly due to mistakes made by the Steelers, as well as several important interceptions by cornerback Larry Brown.
After Super Bowl XXX the team was in a downward spiral. Jones finally faced the truth, that his old friend and new drinking buddy Switzer was simply not equipped to run a team. It was widely discussed with the amount of talent on the Cowboys, anyone could have coached them to a Super Bowl win. Switzer resigned (he and Johnson are now both professional sports analysts), and was replaced by an even more incompetent coach, Chan Gailey. Stars Aikman and Irvin were forced to retire by injuries. Jones, convinced he was a drafting genius, continued to overpay for underperformers. The dynasty was done.
Pearlman’s book is largely compiled from interviews with over 100 former Cowboys players, including Michael Irvin, and coaches, including Johnson and Switzer, and even owner Jerry Jones. Unfortunately, he does not cite his interviews, but does include citations for hundreds of articles and other media. His writing style is relaxed enough to keep the book moving at a quick pace, but there is no analysis present. Pearlman does not deal in great metaphors, he tells a story.
Occasionally, Pearlman’s easygoing style is a little disconcerting. In our post-Sports Guy world of sports writing, Pearlman falls prey to the desire to have a conversation with his readers, rather than reporting to them. For example, on Michael Irvin, “Did he love sleeping with two, three, four, five (yes five) women at a time in precisely choreographed orgies? Yes.” Parenthetical asides like that one are sprinkled liberally throughout the book, and although they do create an atmosphere of camaraderie and amazement with the author, they also serve to force the reader out of the narrative in a very annoying way.
What really stands out about Pearlman’s writing is his humor. It is clear that he is a fan of his subjects (particularly Aikman), but that does not stop him from being critical about his subjects, on and off the field. When they are bad, he punishes them, but he does so with such overall good humor that the book does not feel like a grudge or polemic. With chapter titles like “Nut-Huggers”, “Anal Probe” and “Super Bowl XXX (aka: Attack of the Skanks)”, it is impossible not to laugh along with Pearlman. Luckily, as with those bad, bad Cowboys, there is a lot of heart here too. Enough heart to be a saving grace.
Pearlman knows his audience well enough to start off with a bang. Did you know that at training camp in 1995 Michael Irvin stabbed a teammate in the neck with a pair of scissor? Over his place in the line to get his haircut? There is no more perfect metaphor for the downhill slide of the once mighty Cowboys who, by 1995, were showing the effects of three Super Bowl wins in four years, as well as all of the hard partying that accompanied it.
In 1989 the Dallas Cowboys were a dismal, but well-respected franchise. Dismal because of the team’s mediocre talent, respected because of Coach Tom Landry, who, despite many losses, was well loved for both his record and his hard-working Christian ethics. The face of the franchise was changed forever when the team was bought by devilish Arkansas oilman Jerry Jones, who immediately fired Landry and replaced him with University of Miami coach Jimmy Johnson, who was known less for his hard work and more for his helmet hair and the unabashed thuggery of his players.
Johnson and Jones represented a completely new way of football, one that allowed for players to party as hard on the field as they played on. And no disrespect to Landry, but Johnson was a new kind of coach, one who did not care about the race of his players. In an era where college coaches recruited black men, just not too many of them, Johnson was only interested in talent, no matter the package. He was also a brilliant drafter/trader of players. In some of his first acts as head coach, he drafted Troy Aikman and traded the legendary Herschel Walker for a bushel of veteran journeymen and high draft picks. Despite a losing first season (1-15!), Johnson built a team on the shoulders of future Hall of Famer's quarterback Troy Aikman, running back Emmitt Smith and receiver Michael Irvin.
It’s clear that Johnson and Jones were well aware of the Cowboys off the field antics with drugs, alcohol, strippers and prostitutes. Jones’ own love of booze and whores frequently saw him partying as hard, and often with the same women, as his players. Johnson, despite a love for drinking, only cared about winning. As long as players were on time, alert, and practiced hard, he didn’t care what they did at night. Michael Irvin was widely praised for being able to drink and fuck all night, but still be the first and last person at practice and in the weight room. Johnson was a tyrant of a coach, but the kind of tyrant who could mold players into champions. Under his tutelage the Cowboys won two consecutive Super Bowls, in 1991 and 1992.
The bizarre antics of the Cowboys did not just stop at cocaine and hookers. Defensive back Charles Haley, already crazy when he played with the 49ers, went insane in Dallas. He was known for masturbating in the locker room and in team meetings, saying things to his teammates like, “You know you want to suck it.” Now stop. Go back and read that sentence again.
Haley was not the only Cowboy with a legendary member and sexual appetite. Team members frequented the finest strip clubs in Dallas, but one they became notorious around the city, they started their own house of ill repute, known as the White House, in a quiet Dallas suburb. Within the White House Cowboy players could bring strippers, prostitutes and groupies for an orgy of sex, drugs and booze. Michael Irvin was well known for orchestrating sexual scenarios, by instructing women, in ones, twos, and threes, on what to do to specific teammates. Irvin and another player, Erik Williams were both later arrested for sexual assault (Irvin’s second arrest; after his first, for drug possession, he came to court in a floor-length mink coat). They were not convicted.
Do not think that the sum of the Cowboys was scandal. Much of Pearlman’s book in dedicated to their amazing play on the field. Non-football fans should not be afraid; Pearlman writes about games with great passion and in language that laymen can follow. If you do not watch football, you will still understand what happened in the game for the Cowboys to win, or lose.
For each of the players highlighted, and there are far more than just the stars of the team, we learn about their childhood, high school and college career, and what brought the to football and the Cowboys. Each story is simple and short, but it turns each player into a full human being, and not just a coke-snorting millionaire caricature. Pearlman also shares a lot of feel-good stories of the players’ charity, and not to just the standard groups of sick kids, but to other Cowboys staff and players. A standout story is that of cornerback Larry Brown. Days after his son Kristopher was born premature, doctors discovered that the infants brain had dissolved. The Browns chose to pull the plug, and in desperation of what to do and how to act, Brown took a private jet to play with his team that Sunday. On arrival, he found his teammates on the filed with “KB” stickers on their helmets. Brown played that day and the Cowboys won, dedicating the rest of their season to his son.
Brown’s story is incredibly touching, as he, a workmanlike player but no star, went on to become a Cowboy hero and MVP of their final Super Bowl win in 1995. After Super Bowl XXVIII, Jerry Jones was fed up with Coach Jimmy Johnson taking what he felt should be shared credit for the Cowboys’ back to back wins, and fired him. He replaced Johnson with Barry Switzer, former coach of the University of Oklahoma Sooners, who had been forced to resign in disgrace.
Switzer was both a wonderful and terrible fit for the Cowboys. His relaxed “we’re all friends here” attitude was a relief to a team that had suffered under Johnson’s tyranny, but Switzer had a lot less coaching acumen. On top of that, he loved wine, women and song as much as his players and boss. It was in the Switzer era that the White House opened, that players started getting arrested (for assault, for DUIs, for drugs), and that egos went unchecked. Coach Switzer didn’t care if players were late to practice or slept through meetings. He supported Jones’ hiring of Deion “Prime Time” Sanders, a man so talented that he could afford to be lazy in practice, which set a bad example for the younger members of the team.
Most importantly, Switzer could not form a positive relationship with Aikman. Aikman felt that Switzer was a fool and a patsy for Jones, and that many team losses were his fault (all true). Switzer also made the grave mistake of punishing Aikman for accusations of racism by an assistant coach (whose pump had been primed by Sanders), which split the locker room in half. On one side were Aikman and his best friend and team brother, Michael Irvin, as well as all of the veteran players who followed them, on the other were Sanders and the younger players who admired his skill and flashy ways. It was a schism that the team did not recover from.
In Switzer’s first season the Cowboys made the playoffs, but did not advance past the first round. In his second year, the Cowboys made the Super Bowl. For this Super Bowl the Cowboys invented the “Port-A-Skank” concept, by hiring limos to bring favorite prostitutes from Dallas to Tempe, Arizona, so as not to fall prey to local, untrustworthy women. Super Bowl XXX is also noteworthy for the poor play of the Cowboys in the face of the Pittsburgh Steelers, as well as being the first big game the team had played in front of an audience that was not primarily Dallas backers, The tide had turned against “America’s Team” and they one mainly due to mistakes made by the Steelers, as well as several important interceptions by cornerback Larry Brown.
After Super Bowl XXX the team was in a downward spiral. Jones finally faced the truth, that his old friend and new drinking buddy Switzer was simply not equipped to run a team. It was widely discussed with the amount of talent on the Cowboys, anyone could have coached them to a Super Bowl win. Switzer resigned (he and Johnson are now both professional sports analysts), and was replaced by an even more incompetent coach, Chan Gailey. Stars Aikman and Irvin were forced to retire by injuries. Jones, convinced he was a drafting genius, continued to overpay for underperformers. The dynasty was done.
Pearlman’s book is largely compiled from interviews with over 100 former Cowboys players, including Michael Irvin, and coaches, including Johnson and Switzer, and even owner Jerry Jones. Unfortunately, he does not cite his interviews, but does include citations for hundreds of articles and other media. His writing style is relaxed enough to keep the book moving at a quick pace, but there is no analysis present. Pearlman does not deal in great metaphors, he tells a story.
Occasionally, Pearlman’s easygoing style is a little disconcerting. In our post-Sports Guy world of sports writing, Pearlman falls prey to the desire to have a conversation with his readers, rather than reporting to them. For example, on Michael Irvin, “Did he love sleeping with two, three, four, five (yes five) women at a time in precisely choreographed orgies? Yes.” Parenthetical asides like that one are sprinkled liberally throughout the book, and although they do create an atmosphere of camaraderie and amazement with the author, they also serve to force the reader out of the narrative in a very annoying way.
What really stands out about Pearlman’s writing is his humor. It is clear that he is a fan of his subjects (particularly Aikman), but that does not stop him from being critical about his subjects, on and off the field. When they are bad, he punishes them, but he does so with such overall good humor that the book does not feel like a grudge or polemic. With chapter titles like “Nut-Huggers”, “Anal Probe” and “Super Bowl XXX (aka: Attack of the Skanks)”, it is impossible not to laugh along with Pearlman. Luckily, as with those bad, bad Cowboys, there is a lot of heart here too. Enough heart to be a saving grace.
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
The End of the Affair
Oh my God! Is it real? Can this be happening?
Many of you may have heard stories about my newish upstairs neighbors and their epic fights. Fight topics include:
1. His laziness
2. His "ugly ass baby" with "that bitch"
3. His pot smoking
4. How the stuff they fight about is stupid. Really, they fight about their fights.
Today (I'm home sick and the fighting has interrupted my essential daytime sleeping every morning) there was a big blowout about how he lives with her, but loves another woman. Yeah, that seems like a pretty important problem right there. Anyway, she told him to call up Tyrone and not to come back, 'cause he ain't her boyfriend no more! Is it real? Will there really be no more fighting?
Hmm. It seems now that he's been kicked, she's on the phone with every one of her friends, yelling about the break up. I'm not safe yet...
In other, blog post related news, I recently watched both versions of "The End of the Affair", based on the Graham Greene novel of the same title. Despite the newer film having semi-nude Ralph Fiennes in some decently raunchy sex scenes, I vote for the older version. It's far more melodramatic, but it's more linear, which works well for those of us with short attention spans, and it stars the God of All that is Holy and Good, Van Johnson. Praise his name.
(Apparently VJ is still alive in a nursing home somewhere being crotchety and making all of the staff hate him. Can this be verified?)
In other non-blog post related news, I got a second job! A friend of my boss owns a pet-sitting company, so starting next week I'm going to get payed to play with other people's cats and dogs. Considering I love animals and need all of the money that I can get, I consider that a pretty sweet deal.
Many of you may have heard stories about my newish upstairs neighbors and their epic fights. Fight topics include:
1. His laziness
2. His "ugly ass baby" with "that bitch"
3. His pot smoking
4. How the stuff they fight about is stupid. Really, they fight about their fights.
Today (I'm home sick and the fighting has interrupted my essential daytime sleeping every morning) there was a big blowout about how he lives with her, but loves another woman. Yeah, that seems like a pretty important problem right there. Anyway, she told him to call up Tyrone and not to come back, 'cause he ain't her boyfriend no more! Is it real? Will there really be no more fighting?
Hmm. It seems now that he's been kicked, she's on the phone with every one of her friends, yelling about the break up. I'm not safe yet...
In other, blog post related news, I recently watched both versions of "The End of the Affair", based on the Graham Greene novel of the same title. Despite the newer film having semi-nude Ralph Fiennes in some decently raunchy sex scenes, I vote for the older version. It's far more melodramatic, but it's more linear, which works well for those of us with short attention spans, and it stars the God of All that is Holy and Good, Van Johnson. Praise his name.
(Apparently VJ is still alive in a nursing home somewhere being crotchety and making all of the staff hate him. Can this be verified?)
In other non-blog post related news, I got a second job! A friend of my boss owns a pet-sitting company, so starting next week I'm going to get payed to play with other people's cats and dogs. Considering I love animals and need all of the money that I can get, I consider that a pretty sweet deal.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
Book 1: Blonde Faith
100 Books in One Year: Blonde Faith, by Walter Mosley.
In the interest of full disclosure, I should say that I already adore Walter Mosley. I am predisposed to love any of his novels, especially the Easy Rawlins novels. It should be no surprise that I give high marks to the newest Rawlins mystery, Blonde Faith.
For those unfamiliar with Mosley, he has written 11 Easy Rawlins mysteries, beginning with Devil in a Blue Dress in 1990. Describing one of these books in and of itself would be an injustice; they are truly a series and the character of Easy, as well as the city of Los Angeles, and the United States itself, grow throughout the books.
For instance, in Devil, Easy is an unemployed machine worker in 1950s small town of Los Angeles; he and his friends are “Negro” or “colored” and Easy is on his best behavior around the white men who draw him into a mystery beyond his control. By the time of Blonde Faith, the post-Watts 1960s, Easy is a licensed PI, who calls himself “black” and demands “Mr.” And “sir” from the white folks who continue to disrespect his skin color. Los Angeles has finally become a city, with distinctive sections dividing black and Hispanic, and fewer and fewer avocado trees holding back the concrete.
Like the other Rawlins books, Easy is set on the case of a colorfully named friend, Christmas Black, who has disappeared, leaving his daughter, Easter Dawn Black, in Easy’s care. Christmas is a Vietnam veteran, a war that Mosley carefully contrasts with Easy’s service in World War II, and a killer. He disappearance is entwined with the disappearance of a thief named Pericles Tarr and both of them are, of course, linked to Easy’s missing best friend, Raymond “Mouse” Alexander, easily the finest character in Mosley’s universe.
As it is in the best of Mosley’s books, the action is tied up with a beautiful woman, Faith Laneer, an ex-nun and missionary who had the bad luck to marry a drug dealer and go to Christmas Black for help. While on the case, Easy is also trying to deal with the dissolution of his adopted family. His son Jesus (the little boy he saved in Devil) has moved out and had a baby, his daughter Feather is almost a woman, and Easy is still pining for Bonnie, the lover he sent away to save Feather’s life. All these plot developments have come from previous novels, and Blonde Faith is nothing if not the portrait of a man on the edge, a man who has lost everything and doesn’t really care that happens to him. The novel’s final scene is maddening; it is a completely ambiguous as to Easy’s fate. It is the kind of moment that made me want to drive straight to LA and shake the shit out of Mosley.
Again, for the uninitiated, Mosley’s books are a love letter to the city of Los Angeles. Mosley’s work is valuable in and of itself, but it has special value for bringing attention to a side of LA not seen in other noir or LA books that focus on the wealthy and glamorous. Mosley’s LA is all about tarpaper speakeasies and shotgun houses and backwoods witches and folk that still know each other from the Fifth Ward back in Houston. Black Los Angeles is still a small town, even in the 1960s, and Easy and Mouse are stars of the community, one for doing good and one for being very, very bad.
In addition to the city of Los Angeles, blackness is also a major theme. Easy constantly thinks about and notices the negotiations he makes with other black and white people. There is a steady commentary on race in America throughout all of Mosley’s work, and it only strengthens the drama and expands on Easy’s character. By Blonde Faith, Easy has a few white men that he calls friends, but that does not stop him from considering their race at all times, and noting the ways in which they have to help him get through ordinary situations, like dealing with a security guard that doesn’t think a black man belongs in his building.
Sexuality is as important as blackness in Mosley’s novels. Women never seem to be just pretty, but beautiful, and even those that are plain are so full of sexual energy that they practically sizzle on the page. The titular Faith Laneer is as gorgeous as a movie star, and Easy begins a relationship with a young girl, Tourmaline, who turns heads and almost makes him forget his lost love. Even men in Mosley’s novels are either handsome or sexy, and he ahs a gift for physical description that I find missing in many other novelists. His sex scenes are tense and realistic without being graphic. For a gay man, Mosley seems to truly understand women, and incorporates personality and important character notes into physical description. To wit,
“Most beauty fades upon closer examination. Coarse features, unnoticed awkwardness, false teeth, scars, alcoholism, or just plain dumb; there is an abundance of possible flaws that we might miss on first sight. These blemishes are what we come to love in time. We are drawn to the illusion and stay for the reality that makes up the woman. But Faith did not suffer under the light of earnest scrutiny. Her skin and eyes, the way she moved even under the weight of her fears, were just so…flawless.”
Bam. Read them all friends, read them all.
In the interest of full disclosure, I should say that I already adore Walter Mosley. I am predisposed to love any of his novels, especially the Easy Rawlins novels. It should be no surprise that I give high marks to the newest Rawlins mystery, Blonde Faith.
For those unfamiliar with Mosley, he has written 11 Easy Rawlins mysteries, beginning with Devil in a Blue Dress in 1990. Describing one of these books in and of itself would be an injustice; they are truly a series and the character of Easy, as well as the city of Los Angeles, and the United States itself, grow throughout the books.
For instance, in Devil, Easy is an unemployed machine worker in 1950s small town of Los Angeles; he and his friends are “Negro” or “colored” and Easy is on his best behavior around the white men who draw him into a mystery beyond his control. By the time of Blonde Faith, the post-Watts 1960s, Easy is a licensed PI, who calls himself “black” and demands “Mr.” And “sir” from the white folks who continue to disrespect his skin color. Los Angeles has finally become a city, with distinctive sections dividing black and Hispanic, and fewer and fewer avocado trees holding back the concrete.
Like the other Rawlins books, Easy is set on the case of a colorfully named friend, Christmas Black, who has disappeared, leaving his daughter, Easter Dawn Black, in Easy’s care. Christmas is a Vietnam veteran, a war that Mosley carefully contrasts with Easy’s service in World War II, and a killer. He disappearance is entwined with the disappearance of a thief named Pericles Tarr and both of them are, of course, linked to Easy’s missing best friend, Raymond “Mouse” Alexander, easily the finest character in Mosley’s universe.
As it is in the best of Mosley’s books, the action is tied up with a beautiful woman, Faith Laneer, an ex-nun and missionary who had the bad luck to marry a drug dealer and go to Christmas Black for help. While on the case, Easy is also trying to deal with the dissolution of his adopted family. His son Jesus (the little boy he saved in Devil) has moved out and had a baby, his daughter Feather is almost a woman, and Easy is still pining for Bonnie, the lover he sent away to save Feather’s life. All these plot developments have come from previous novels, and Blonde Faith is nothing if not the portrait of a man on the edge, a man who has lost everything and doesn’t really care that happens to him. The novel’s final scene is maddening; it is a completely ambiguous as to Easy’s fate. It is the kind of moment that made me want to drive straight to LA and shake the shit out of Mosley.
Again, for the uninitiated, Mosley’s books are a love letter to the city of Los Angeles. Mosley’s work is valuable in and of itself, but it has special value for bringing attention to a side of LA not seen in other noir or LA books that focus on the wealthy and glamorous. Mosley’s LA is all about tarpaper speakeasies and shotgun houses and backwoods witches and folk that still know each other from the Fifth Ward back in Houston. Black Los Angeles is still a small town, even in the 1960s, and Easy and Mouse are stars of the community, one for doing good and one for being very, very bad.
In addition to the city of Los Angeles, blackness is also a major theme. Easy constantly thinks about and notices the negotiations he makes with other black and white people. There is a steady commentary on race in America throughout all of Mosley’s work, and it only strengthens the drama and expands on Easy’s character. By Blonde Faith, Easy has a few white men that he calls friends, but that does not stop him from considering their race at all times, and noting the ways in which they have to help him get through ordinary situations, like dealing with a security guard that doesn’t think a black man belongs in his building.
Sexuality is as important as blackness in Mosley’s novels. Women never seem to be just pretty, but beautiful, and even those that are plain are so full of sexual energy that they practically sizzle on the page. The titular Faith Laneer is as gorgeous as a movie star, and Easy begins a relationship with a young girl, Tourmaline, who turns heads and almost makes him forget his lost love. Even men in Mosley’s novels are either handsome or sexy, and he ahs a gift for physical description that I find missing in many other novelists. His sex scenes are tense and realistic without being graphic. For a gay man, Mosley seems to truly understand women, and incorporates personality and important character notes into physical description. To wit,
“Most beauty fades upon closer examination. Coarse features, unnoticed awkwardness, false teeth, scars, alcoholism, or just plain dumb; there is an abundance of possible flaws that we might miss on first sight. These blemishes are what we come to love in time. We are drawn to the illusion and stay for the reality that makes up the woman. But Faith did not suffer under the light of earnest scrutiny. Her skin and eyes, the way she moved even under the weight of her fears, were just so…flawless.”
Bam. Read them all friends, read them all.
Wednesday, November 12, 2008
Prep
So it turns out that I'm an uppity little joiner. I decided to take part (if the big guys will let me) in the Cannonball Read. It's a quest to read 100 books in a year, and I'm a little late, as it started in September.
I've been journaling the books that I read for years, and I do contribute reviews to both GoodReads and LibraryThing, so I'm not sure why I didn't get involved in this earlier. I do love a challenge.
Another reason that I'm getting involved is my own hubris. I love to show off, and I keep getting annoyed reading other people's reviews on Pajiba. I keep thinking "I could do that" and "I read two books this week"! I'm so damn uppity...
I leave for Austin in the morning and trivia starts in an hour, so my first review won't come up until I get back. It'll be of Walter Mosley's Blonde Faith, which I knocked out while on vacation this week, as I was deciding to join the challenge. I solonly swear that I will not cheat.
I've been journaling the books that I read for years, and I do contribute reviews to both GoodReads and LibraryThing, so I'm not sure why I didn't get involved in this earlier. I do love a challenge.
Another reason that I'm getting involved is my own hubris. I love to show off, and I keep getting annoyed reading other people's reviews on Pajiba. I keep thinking "I could do that" and "I read two books this week"! I'm so damn uppity...
I leave for Austin in the morning and trivia starts in an hour, so my first review won't come up until I get back. It'll be of Walter Mosley's Blonde Faith, which I knocked out while on vacation this week, as I was deciding to join the challenge. I solonly swear that I will not cheat.
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Let the Dead Bury the Dead
It's no secret that I am in love with Keith Olbermann. He's handsome, he knows a lot about sports, and he feeds my fetish for men in their 40s who wear a suit and tie everyday. It's also no secret that I generally watch him with the sound off; he's just too smug, even for me. And for those of you who have heard me preach on one of a million subjects, then you know how self-righteous I can get.
Occasionally his is amazing. His defense of Arrested Development a few years ago was masterful, and his recent and passionate woodsheading of Proposition 8 is worth it as well. Listen:
I'm not a big defender of straight marriage, despite coming from parents who are still together after more than 30 years, so I have no problem with extending those legal rights to gay folks as well. I could care less who wants to get married and I feel like it doesn't affect me in any way at all. But it does, doesn't it? I may wake up someday and want to get married, for love or for legal protection, and feel more passionately about the institution than I do now.
Do I care about the rights of gay and lesbian friends of mine (or people I don't know) who want to get married? Of course. We should all be able to make the same mistakes in the eyes of the law. Marriage is not sacred in this country; it's a legal institution. I saw this video posted on both Quizlaw and the FourFour (links to the side), so there are some legal minded people, and some gay minded people, respectively, who were touched by Olbermann's latest rant. It's a very fine piece.
In other Olbermann news, I've been happy to see that he's appearing on Sunday Night Football this season and that he was a part of MSNBC's election night coverage. I watched the live feed on their site for the big night because it was a lot better than some of the other cable news feeds, and I was happy to see that Keith's smugnedd was kept in check by the rest of the team. Chris Matthews, however, could not keep the shit-eating grin off of his face. It didn't bother me, of course, because I'm a flag-burning Commie who was happy to see Obama win. Now if he would just lean a little more to the left...
Occasionally his is amazing. His defense of Arrested Development a few years ago was masterful, and his recent and passionate woodsheading of Proposition 8 is worth it as well. Listen:
I'm not a big defender of straight marriage, despite coming from parents who are still together after more than 30 years, so I have no problem with extending those legal rights to gay folks as well. I could care less who wants to get married and I feel like it doesn't affect me in any way at all. But it does, doesn't it? I may wake up someday and want to get married, for love or for legal protection, and feel more passionately about the institution than I do now.
Do I care about the rights of gay and lesbian friends of mine (or people I don't know) who want to get married? Of course. We should all be able to make the same mistakes in the eyes of the law. Marriage is not sacred in this country; it's a legal institution. I saw this video posted on both Quizlaw and the FourFour (links to the side), so there are some legal minded people, and some gay minded people, respectively, who were touched by Olbermann's latest rant. It's a very fine piece.
In other Olbermann news, I've been happy to see that he's appearing on Sunday Night Football this season and that he was a part of MSNBC's election night coverage. I watched the live feed on their site for the big night because it was a lot better than some of the other cable news feeds, and I was happy to see that Keith's smugnedd was kept in check by the rest of the team. Chris Matthews, however, could not keep the shit-eating grin off of his face. It didn't bother me, of course, because I'm a flag-burning Commie who was happy to see Obama win. Now if he would just lean a little more to the left...
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Animal Factory
The current issue of Entertainment Weekly has a profile of Mickey Rourke and his performance in the upcoming film The Wrestler. I've really got to get it together to see this film as soon as it hits Atlanta. I even know where I am going to go: Midtown Art Cinema, where I can drink Red Stripe and put garlic cheese powder on my popcorn. I know it sounds gross, but salty flavored powders have always been a downfall of mine. Garlic salt is very popular at Casa de Courtney.
To the point! This article is a little bit fluffy (Rourke's arrest for spousal abuse doesn't report the whole "he shot his wife in the shoulder" thing), but the bones are good. And unlike some of the more recent work on Rourke that I have read, it mentions his return to doing good work in the early years of this century. My favorite that the article lists is Steve Buscemi's Animal Factory, in which Rourke plays an over the top prison diva sharing a cell with leading man Edward Furlong. He's only in a few scenes, but, like always, he steals them. This was Buscemi's directorial debut and it is sold. It also stars Willem Dafoe, who is actually not the creepiest part of this movie. That award goes to prison rapist Tom Arnold. Yep, that Tom Arnold.
Mickey really has been putting out some good work in the last 15 years, it has just been in incredibly small roles in small films. (Buffalo 66 anyone?) Sure, he has still been guilty of some direct to DVD movies, but enough younger filmmakers who remember him from the 1980s have been casting him in small, juicy roles to keep him honest. Thank God he's gotten a second chance. Maybe America will finally understand my obsession.
Thanks to Ted for the article!
To the point! This article is a little bit fluffy (Rourke's arrest for spousal abuse doesn't report the whole "he shot his wife in the shoulder" thing), but the bones are good. And unlike some of the more recent work on Rourke that I have read, it mentions his return to doing good work in the early years of this century. My favorite that the article lists is Steve Buscemi's Animal Factory, in which Rourke plays an over the top prison diva sharing a cell with leading man Edward Furlong. He's only in a few scenes, but, like always, he steals them. This was Buscemi's directorial debut and it is sold. It also stars Willem Dafoe, who is actually not the creepiest part of this movie. That award goes to prison rapist Tom Arnold. Yep, that Tom Arnold.
Mickey really has been putting out some good work in the last 15 years, it has just been in incredibly small roles in small films. (Buffalo 66 anyone?) Sure, he has still been guilty of some direct to DVD movies, but enough younger filmmakers who remember him from the 1980s have been casting him in small, juicy roles to keep him honest. Thank God he's gotten a second chance. Maybe America will finally understand my obsession.
Thanks to Ted for the article!
Monday, November 3, 2008
The Merry Wives of Windsor
I'm trying to deal with my overwhelming laziness when it comes to blogging. I've faced up to it and deleted my two other blogs, the lackluster "Ubiquitous Archivist" and the awesome "Never Get Involved in a Land War in Asia". Because they are gone now I may start posting on those subjects (archives in popular culture and great advice from movies and television) in this space. Feel free to skip any of my archives related diatribes of Scatman Corruthers inspired hating on hippies if you feel so inclined.
Actually, fuck that. Everyone should have to take advice from the Scatman:
Actually, fuck that. Everyone should have to take advice from the Scatman:
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