Good Grief

Here is the number one reason why traditional marketing and/or advertising models are failing: this guy.

The whole thing is just wrong. Or is it me? Being one of the ‘target’ market he’s talking about, I can honestly say I’ve never been interested in: catfights, freakish people turned into fabulous people, train wrecks (unless it’s in Unbreakable), or dates gone horribly wrong unless they involve Michael Vartan, Jennifer Garner, and some kick-ass spy gear.

I read, I watch movies, and I do a lot of shopping for shoes, but that doesn’t mean a fellow who admits to smoking, drinking and gambling in his first corporate post can “reach” into my “untapped” market.

Sigh.

TRH Movie – Little Children

It’s no secret that I love going to the movies, the popcorn, the big screen, the big, comfy chairs. What I hate about going to the movies? Everyone else at the theatre. If there’s one thing I truly despise, it’s when the other people in the theatre ruin the movie-going experience for me. The jerks. If it wasn’t the woman who arrived three minutes to screen time looking for 4 seats together, it was the knuckleheads beside me who talked through the entire movie.

“There’s Kate Winslet!”

Yes, and there are her nipples. I don’t need a running commentary of what they look like, I can also see them on the screen there, 40 feet tall and pointing directly at me. Oh, and if you’re going to wear a giant parka, please take it off before the movie starts, not during, and then please don’t lie it across me so that I’m wearing it as a blanket. And then, if you could be so kind, please don’t HIT ME THROUGH THE WHOLE MOVIE as you eat your popcorn. Seriously, my left arm is black and blue.

So. Annoying.

Annnywaaay. Tara and I went to go see Little Children on Saturday evening. Todd Field’s second movie, the follow-up to In the Bedroom, Little Children deals with some of the same themes, characters with fatal flaws, families in crisis to an extent, illicit relationships with violent consequences, etc. It’s also loooong, like In the Bedroom, which I wouldn’t have minded if the movie going experience didn’t make me want to lose my mind.

Kate Winslet plays Sarah Pierce, an unsatisfied housewife with a toddler who isn’t necessarily convinced she should be a mother. She and house-husband, failed lawyer, ex-football star Brad Adamson (the truly hunky Patrick Wilson) begin an affair that for better or worse, brings them to conclusions about their own lives that will change them forever. The second interweaving storyline involves a pedophile, Ronnie McGorvey (Jackie Earle Haley), an ex-cop Larry Hedges (Noah Emmerich), and the furor over the convicted sex offender returning to the quiet Massachusetts town to live with his mother.

The characters interact, but on a very small basis, they slip in and out of each other’s lives, more to keep them glued together and relevant than any other reason. I guess the film is more of an exploration of human nature when it’s pushed into extreme situations, what happens when happiness is tied to deceit and turns into unhappiness, the state of modern marriage, society’s obvious and necessary fear of sexual predators, and so on.

I’m batting two for two in terms of seeing films in the theatre that I both like and respect, first The Departed, and now this one. If I have one criticism of Field’s directing, it’s that he’s always looking for that one cool shot, you know, the shadow in the picture frame-type stuff that is more to prove to the audience that he’s cool than anything else. He could have shot the film clean, with none of the fancy-dancy camera moves that pulled me out rather than kept me in the picture, but on the whole, that’s a small criticism of an extremely well acted, well scripted and well directed movie.

#62 – One Good Turn

A few months ago, Publisher’s Lunch noted that of all the fall books coming out this year, Kate Atkinson’s new novel One Good Turn was among the most highly anticipated. And for once, the hype has substance behind it (ahem, The Historian I’m looking at you, I couldn’t even finish that abysmally written thing). In fact, Atkinson, like Ishiguro (although not as literary), is such a deft novelist that by the end of the book you’re marveling at her skill with a story as much as you are her ability to write in the stream of consciousness form in such a controlled and subtle way.

One Good Turn weaves and bobs through the life of Jackson Brodie, the hardhitting cop from Case Histories. Now in Edinburgh for his lover Julia’s play during the Festival (she’s also from Case Histories), he finds himself embroiled in a case and now stands on the other side of the law, more a criminal than a cop. With the same keen eye for detail and remarkable skill at creating realistic yet completely distinct characters, Atkinson’s novel is much more than your typical bash-’em-on-the-head and solve the crime kind of mystery.

Don’t be disappointed, there are dead bodies, lots of intrigue, plenty of coincendences and a pile of action to keep you interested. In fact, I’m not going to say any more except treat yourself and read this novel: you won’t regret it.

IFOA V – Margaret Atwood

The cold is hanging on for dear life. It’s highly annoying and I am quite sick of it. So as much as I wanted to see Margaret Atwood, there was still a part of me that longed to crawl up in my bed and not leave until Monday morning.

I am very glad I went to the reading though. Atwood read from her latest book, Moral Disorder, and told a lovely story about how she borrowed or used the title from Graeme Gibson – it was the name of one of his novels, but as he had stopped writing fiction, the title had languished until Margaret Atwood asked if she could have it. It’s nice to note that even creative (and I am loathe to use the word) geniuses still look around for inspiration and/or input.

Annnywaaay, the story she read was about a high school English teacher, two students (the female protagonist and her boyfriend), and a Robert Browning poem called “The Dutchess”. It was hilarious and she cracked up in the middle of reading it, both because it was a funny story and, I would imagine, because she was talking about a real person. The audience giggled when she giggled. We were giggling with Margaret Atwood.

The rest of the night followed suit. Margaret Atwood, sharp as a tack, laughed all the way through the interview, cracked up, made jokes, mimed smoking dope and generally proved she is one of the smartest people, well, ever. I had never seen or heard her in person before so I never realized the extent of her grand old sense of humour. Of course, she was serious too, but in the end her wit won me over—dry, brittle as a bone but not quick to break, it was kind of like watching your favourite kooky aunt do a comedy routine after having one too many glasses of wine. It was bloody brilliant. She had the audience eating out of her hands.

I can’t get over how great the festival was this year.

Now, I must stop blogging with the Blackberry as my thumbs are about to fall off. Damn internet isn’t working at home.

The Pull Of The Girlie Movie And Other Random Links

1. As discussed by Tara, as relating to Kirsten Dunst, on Fametracker. I giggled so loudly at work yesterday that one of my coworkers said, “Are you okay?” I have one thing and one thing only to say: “Cuba!”

2. Even though it’s not stated explicitly, but it was me who actually sent this package to George at Bookninja, and this post makes me feel good. I know, I’m not supposed to blog about work but how often do you get a shout out on Bookninja?

3. So Misguided also links to Heat, which I’m reading right now too. And she even adds to the awesomeness of the post by linking off to the WWF’s current Living Planet report. I heart this blog very much.

Does the "A" Stand For Awesome?

The true title of this post should be “IFOA IV – Thursday” but that’s so boring when last night was probably the best evening of readings I’ve ever had the pleasure of attending (with the exception of John Irving, which shall stand alone as the single most literary inspiring event I’ve seen; oh wait, and I saw Michael Ondaatje once, and he inspired me to write this, oh, nevermind).

Like the all-girls event Zesty and I went to last year, last night four inspiring, talented and lovely women read from their latest books of fiction: Madeleine Thien, Claire Messud, Jane Hamilton and Janet Fitch. All four of the readings were complimentary, three of which had more traditional themes of war (Second World War, Terrorism, War on Terror, respectively), and the forth, set in the heyday of the punk rock scene in LA, is perhaps war of a different kind (mosh-pit inspired), and all four women were great readers.

More often than not, I’ve read the book when I’ve gone to see an author at the IFOA. I’m thinking that maybe next year I’ll do the opposite and go and see people where I haven’t read their work. It’s a fresh perspective, so inspiring to hear what books actually make the leap from the page into your imagination as told by the author herself. It’s impressive, and I would absolutely read every single one of the books from last night.

And I really like how the IFOA balances the commercial-type fiction, like Fitch’s, with the more literary fiction, like Thien’s, showing that as diverse as the subject matter and styles actually are, the books fit together on that imaginary shelf like peas in a pod. And hell, going and supporting authors at the IFOA makes me feel good, like they deserve the giant round of applause at the end just for sitting in a room for hours, weeks, months, days, years, with their thoughts and a pen, maybe a keyboard, just toiling away to create something that matters.

Tonight, it’s Margaret Atwood, one of my own personal literary icons, which should also be inspiring and all that other touchy-feely stuff I mentioned above.

You Want Me To Do What?

I have caught the cold. I’m running a fever, have a sore throat, and my chest feels weighted down by lead balloons. What can you do? It was bound to happen. I’ve been hyper-lucky with colds this year (read: I haven’t really had any) so I suppose I was due.

But, of course, it comes on the heels of other more pressing issues. I can tell you shuffling around the house in my pajamas is one of my favourite things to do. Shuffling around the house while having a cold in my pajamas, not so much. You can’t enjoy anything when you have a cold: not TV, not a book, not the internet, nothing.

You really can’t enjoy peeing in a jug for 24 hours when you have a cold. Yes, you read that right, I’m peeing in a jug. It’s the most hated of all the clinical tests I have to do for my damn kidneys: the 24-hour urine test. While I understand that they need to see how much protein is being leaked from my poor, beleaguered organ, I absolutely hate this test. I mean, who wants a jug of their pee in their fridge for 24 hours? Who?

Wait, don’t answer that.

IFOA – Sunday III

Aw, Sarah Waters is brilliant, in that top-notch sort of British way. She’s very open and down to earth, and had a lot of really wonderful things to say about The Night Watch and her other novels. It makes all the difference when there’s an interviewer who can penetrate the subject and then let the question stand for itself, then realize that it’s not about them and just let the author answer. There’s patience and authority in that kind of a voice, and that’s what Susan G. Cole brought to the table.

After hearing Waters talk about the agenda, if I should use such a loaded word, behind Tipping the Velvet, maybe I could have been a bit more forgiving in my original impressions of the novel.

Today was inspiring, as I usually find the IFOA, urges me toward working even harder to get something finished.

IFOA Sunday II

We’re sitting in a roundtable at the moment with Nicole Krauss, Colson Whitehead, Deborah Eisenberg and the “moderator” David Eddie. I’m a little disappointed with the benign nature of the questions and the conversation, billed as a investigation of the lines between fiction and non-fiction, and they are stumbling in the mire of such over-discussed issues in the publishing world like James freaking Frey.

I do applaud the authors, especially Nicole Krauss, who had some very enlightening things to say around the idea that the novel is an exchange between the reader and the writer that should be authentic, which is an interesting way to look at a book in terms of both the writer and the reader. And as Zesty put it so eloquently, would her husband really be getting the questions about what’s it’s like to live with her great talent, somehow, I think not. She’s pretty astute, that Zesty. Enough of who Krauss is married to, how about you let her work stand for itself?

But man, after the glowing brilliance of Sarah Waters and Rosemarie Sullivan, the ineptitude of this poor moderator is painful.

IFOA – Sunday I

The first two readings Ami McKay (The Birth House) and Bernice Eisenstein (I Was The Child of Holocaust Survivors) did not dissapoint. Both women told incredible and sincere stories, Ami about women, childbirth and the Halifax Explosion; Bernice about her father, as introductions to their readings. It gives the material another dimension, hearing the stories in the voices that must at least be close to how they sound in their heads.

I’ve read both books (links will be added later), and hearing them now, makes me think back with a different opinion of both. It’s a pretty full crowd too, which is positive as well.

Next up, Rosemary Sullivan and the star power of Sarah Waters…