I am so psyched! One of my favorite books, No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy, did very well at the Academy Awards by winning four Oscars. One Oscar in particular, Best Adapted Screenplay, was well earned. We went to see the movie this past fall, and it followed the book word for word. I actually mouthed dialog as the movie proceeded, and once, aloud I said, “It’ll do till a mess gets here.”
I find it odd that a book I read in the summer of 2005 can be so recent in my memory. I hate to admit this, but sometimes I cannot remember the last book read; usually, because I am already deep into another. McCarthy’s book made quite an impression since I remembered the plot and dialog two years after reading it. Unfortunately, something did not stick.
There was an inconsistency in our memory and the movie’s ending. I’ll not tell you the ending, but let’s just say we had a totally different one in mind. So, too, did the audience in attendance that night. There were plenty of confused faces with discussions from different groups as we made our way to the exit. Most of the people we mulled through had not read the book, yet remained perplexed by the ending.
We rushed home to consult the book which had precisely the same ending. Why the discrepancy in our minds? I say “our” because hubby also read the book and could not remember the ending. Well, after four months of ruminating, I have the answer.
In our reading, we both choose to accept the book as a work of literature and not a genre piece. By this I mean, we were reading a critically acclaimed author where one expects thought provoking prose, instead of a pure western genre such as Louis L’Amour or Zane Grey. In addition, we focused on the main character Sheriff Ed Tom Bell, who narrates the book, instead of the bad guy Chigurh. I think this is where the movie and book differ.
I want to reiterate the movie followed the book exactly; unfortunately, the emphasis was placed on the bad guy. This misplaced emphasis led the movie into a genre piece and away from an artsy work. The problem lies in the literary (artsy) ending where the audience is waiting for the genre’s trademark, happy ending. A finale complete with hero on horse in the sunset’s silhouette.
The movie might have enjoyed one more Oscar for Best Leading Actor had the emphasis been placed on Sheriff Ed Tom Bell. But, hey, four Oscars are nothing to sneeze at.
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
No Country for Old Men (copy)
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Arbor Day Anyone?
We planted two pecan trees this past Arbor Day, February 15, 2008. It is our habit to plant at least two trees during the February month. We moved in Oct 31, 1995 and since have lost 13 pecans, 1 holly, 1 black walnut, and 4 dogwoods. As you may have guessed, the display case holds a Shel Silverstein biography and two of his poetry books for children. The man was quite a character and I hope y'all try his work.
The tree shape is from his children's book, The Giving Tree. 
A young boy discovers a tree is perfect to play in, on, under, and around. He eats fruit from it and takes naps under it, then the book becomes menacing. The boy grows older and keeps taking from the tree until there is only a stump. I just want to slap the selfish man, but the tree keeps forgiving him. It makes me cry, every time. Um, excuse me...
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
Born Standing Up (copy)
I was born at the perfect time. While reading Steve Martin’s new book, Born Standing Up, I was reminded of this. The timing of my birth made it possible to see the first episodes of Saturday Night Live uninterrupted. See, I was much too young to go out on dates. My only privilege at the time was a late Saturday night spent in front of the television. Popcorn between crossed legs, I giggled, slapped my sides, and constantly cracked up without so much as a squeak. I didn’t want to wake my parents.
I remember seeing Steve Martin’s act while sitting on the floor of our red-shagged den. Practically hugging the Buck stove for heat, I was unsure what I was seeing. Wearing a suit and sporting salt-n-pepper hair, a man was in place ready to perform stand-up. This was an odd sort—unlike my favorites, Bill Cosby and George Carlin. Where was the laid back 70’s manner? Where was the t-shirt and jeans?
In my young eyes I saw an old nerdy man. He would really have to be funny to break down my natural ageism. And, well, his first joke was a dud. It wasn’t funny but then he put a fake arrow through his head and told it again. I was rolling on the floor! He was silly, and I was giggly, the perfect combination.
By the time of Martin’s first appearance on Saturday Night Live, he had been in stand-up for 13 years. He tells in the book he actually appeared on the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson 16 times before he hit it big. These were his salad years, and boy he was skinny. Ba-da-dum... crash!
The book begins with Martin’s confession: “I did stand-up comedy for eighteen years. Ten of those years were spent learning, four years were spent refining, and four were spent in wild success.”
He goes on to explain those years were a blur, and he is no longer that young man. “In a sense, this book is not an autobiography but a biography, because I am writing about someone I used to know.”
After reading half the book, I thought I would stop and start another book. I was unsure it deemed entertaining enough to recommend. My expectations, just like that 1978 night in front of the television, were searching for funny.
Just as his comedy act begins to improve, so too, does the book. One must wade through some name dropping, but I am sure Steve Martin would say, “Well, Excuuuuse Me!”
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Wanna Play? Nonfiction Meme!
I’ve been tagged, that means I’m IT! Na-Na-Day-Boo-Boo! Iliana tagged me for a non-fiction meme created by Gautami.
A) What issues/topic interests you most in non-fiction, i.e, cooking, knitting, stitching, there are infinite topics that has nothing to do with novels? I read a variety of nonfiction for fun such as history, memoirs, travelogues, biographies, true adventure and crime. Right now I am really enjoying micro-histories on topics such as pigeons, rats, oysters, cotton, etc. where one learns the origins of a subject through to modern times. I pick up how-to books only when I exhaust my neighbors’/friends’/family’s knowledge.
B) Would you like to review books concerning those? Yes, I do it all the time! Since I publish weekly in local newspapers, I do mostly nonfiction to encourage male readers. Studies show newspaper readers are mostly male and males mostly read nonfiction. When I write about a fiction book it is usually aimed at book club readers or monthly themes such as Christmas and Valentine’s Day.
C) Would you like to be paid or do it as interest or hobby? Tell reasons for whatever you choose. No, I will not accept money for reviews! My writing is totally on a volunteer level and although I may type the articles at work I read the books on my own time. If I was a reviewer, yes, but I’m only a librarian.
D) Would you recommend those to your friends and how? I recommend all types of books through my articles and face-to-face. I see no difference in recommending fiction and nonfiction. To me, I’m suggesting good reads no matter the story.
E) If you have already done something like this, link it to your post. I’ll go back to my latest...How Starbucks Saved My Life, The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, and Fame Junkies.
F) Please don’t forget to link back here or whoever tags you. Iliana at Book Girl Thanks!
Now, time to break the rules…I’m supposed to tag 10 people. If you read to this point, consider yourself tagged. *running away so you can’t get me*
Saturday, February 16, 2008
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Our Man in Havana (copy)
He is just a man, an ordinary man, one who keeps to himself. He sells vacuum cleaners during the day and spends teatime at the Wonder Bar with his friend Dr. Hasselbacher. Raising a teenage daughter, he seems never to be alone, but he is. He carries with him a slight ache for the ex-wife who left him for another.
As a salesman for the Phastkleaners Vacuum Company, his money is tight. His salary lacks the elasticity to indulge his beautiful, young daughter’s requests. This month she wishes for a horse. Next month it will be new outfits for her seventeenth birthday. Mr. Wormold is in need of a raise.
Who knew London had their eyes on him and during his most vulnerable time?
It is a normal, everyday day when the stranger enters his shop. The stranger asks some odd questions such as, “You are British, aren’t you?” with a “British passport and all that?” Yes, Mr. Wormold is from England and currently working in Havana, Cuba. The stranger explains that he likes to do business with British firms.
At this announcement, Wormold feels comfortable and begins to show his new friend the showroom models. They proceed to the Turbo, run along the wall to the Turbo Jet, suggest a Midget-Make Easy for the office, and then round the room, ending at the top-of-the-line Atomic Pile. Here Wormold stops to display the snap-action coupling.
Later that day, Wormold, by happenstance, meets the stranger again at the Wonder Bar. The
stranger offers him a job as London’s newest secret agent 59200/5. His new side job comes with perks, too. Agent 59200/5 can hire his own secret agents which will be paid through London.
Ah, here is an answer to his financial woes. With a few drinks, pen, and paper, five new sub-agents are born. They may live and reside in Cuba, but it is by Wormold’s own imagination they participate in espionage. Unbeknownst to these phantom operates, a horse, stable, and new membership to the Havana Country Club has been made in their names.
This is not your typical 007 spy, and I love it! Graham Greene’s Our Man in Havana is extremely entertaining even though it was written in 1958; uncannily, prior to Fidel Castro’s rebel forces overtook Batista’s dictatorial government.
Thursday, February 07, 2008
Happy Chinese New Year!
If you gave up on those New Year's resolutions,
here is your chance to start all over!
Wednesday, February 06, 2008
Annoying Intro (copy)
It was a dark and stormy night, literally, as I opened my copy of Graham Greene’s Our Man in Havana. I began the book weeks ago, but just could not get past the introduction by Christopher Hitchens. Who is this character, and why should I care about what he thinks of the book?
Ah, after Googling him, and reading the passage in Wikipedia—where I recognized his photo—I learn he is a British author, journalist, and critic. His latest book, God is not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything, was number one on the “New York Times” bestseller’s list in 2006. Hum?
The fire-department radio siren was signaling a severe weather alert and I was giggling at the book. Seems our hero, Mr. Wormold, is a vacuum cleaner salesman, and his new line of vacuums includes the Atomic Pile. One astute customer wants to know if it will absorb all radio activity including Strontium 90. As the car alarm sounds under the carport, I am miles away on a Cuban street. I happened to be reading about the wolf whistles which Wormold hears as his 16-year-old daughter, Milly, makes her way through the streets.
Seems I can be lost in Havana with Greene—so much so, I ignore a raging storm—or I can be bored to tears with Hitchens. In a storm I’ll take Greene any day.
