Poor People

In an attempt to understand the "characteristics of poverty," journalist and National Book Award winner William T. Vollmann asks victims of poverty worldwide, "why are you poor?"

Some believe it is their destiny and some accept it as the corollary of an imbalanced society; regardless, it results in an inevitable "mutual class invisibility called segregation."

Although Vollmann's tone may at times seem egregiously pretentious and his writing repetitive, Poor People is an introspective, thought-provoking book enriched (ironically) by his distinct, poetic narrative.

“Life is an extended camping trip. With a leaky, inferior tent one runs no more risk of rain than anyone else; but if it does rain, the person in the cheap tent chances soaking in his sleeping bag, and possibly dying of hypothermia.”

Other books by William T. Vollmann: Europe Central, Rising Up and Rising Down

Now you see me

The first 4 minutes of Now You See Me were exhiliarating - the final moments? Not so much.
The cast, firstly, was near-wonderful. The Michael Caine + Morgan Freeman combo took me down a much-needed Dark Night memory lane, Dave Franco does his brother proud (oh, they are so alike, it's heart-warming) and Woody Harrelson is the absolute gem of the Four Horsemen.



I'm a bit inclined - forgive my partisan views - to dismiss Jessie Eisenberg entirely but I must grudgingly admit that he was possibly the best actor in the film. The reason for my Eisenberg-enmity is this video. The interviewer was (annoyingly) untactful at times, but there was no reason for Jessie to be such a dick/misogynist.

Back to the movie - it was gripping and full of clever plot twists... except for, of course, THE FINAL ONE. Maybe it's just me, but Mark Ruffalo's character simply was not COOL enough to be THE EYE; why expose Dylan Rhodes as an incompetent cop, label him the staple antagonist (arguable) and then reveal him to be the hottest shot possible? Alma would've been a better 'eye.' On that note, Dylan and Alma's relationship was so unshippable (forgive me, this is the only time this term will appear on my blog) that it was cringeworthy (ditto). Melanie Laurent was dreadfully undermined.

This film was - in a matter of minutes - transformed from an entertaining spectacle to a classic avenge-my-father-mission with a hackneyed and (I quote) "simply unsatisfying" denouement.

What was the big deal with the eye and all the odd letters on the cards (a Hermit, Death, a High Priestess, and a Lover)? I see the jack-death connection, but the rest are not so obvious?

This is a brilliantly entertaining movie that needs a sequel to patch up gaps.

Beethoven Romance No. 2

So, re-hiking the tortuous path to taking the SATs was certainly NOT how I intended to (disconsolately) spend my summer; however, I am going to use this as an opportunity to become an expert at managing my time so that I can pursue my original summer plans (reading until my brain turns spongy, becoming best friends with the E-string notes on my violin and upping my French).

People are afraid of what they don't understand

I watched Man of Steel this morning - shed a few tears, jumped a couple of times in my seat...
Emotionally, this film inevitably delivers, even if via trite lines such as:

You're not just anyone. One day, you're going to have to make a choice. You have to decide what kind of man you want to grow up to be. Whoever that man is, good character or bad, it's going to change the world.

Yet we must remember that when remaking a franchise as legendary, monumental and meaningful to millions as Superman, such quotes, albeit hackneyed, are also CLASSIC and need to be incorporated -

You will give the people an ideal to strive towards. They will race behind you, they will stumble, they will fall. But in time, they will join you in the sun. In time, you will help them accomplish wonders.

Because of this, it is easier to forgive the implausibilities that crop out throughout the film ('How are you, Clark, only minimally surprised to see your biological father materialize out of nothingness in front of you inside an insular ice cave?' 'How are you, Lois, only marginally disturbed by being inside an alien spacecraft?").

Likewise, it is also preferable to gloss over the minor flaws - such as the extensive fight scenes (maybe this is just me) and recurrent resurrections of Russel Crowe - and allow oneself to be absorbed by the film's spectacular cinematography and grandness.

Henry Cavill presents to us a different Superman - 'darker,' as critics are calling it - the same way Zack Snyder and the rest of his team (NOLAN) give us a deeper insight into Clark Kent's past and his scruples ... 

The film isn't solely a Superman-pity party; we are given opportunities to peer at the 'other side,' realize that (insert 'poor') Zod was conceived by AI and assigned to his patriotic fate, and sympathize. Let's not forget that he also has the best villain accent ever... something about his hard-edged tone is so boulder-y and stone-y (okay I'll stop).

James Franco wrote a review of Man of Steel too, although he somehow found yet another way to make the review 80% about himself (I still love him, though).

So, the film: Impactful? Definitely. A spectacle? Yes. But superbly honed? Debatable... yet infinitely forgivable for its flaws.

I decided to address my condition by writing about it. Master the problem by making it conscious.

So I've been reading Object Lessons: the Paris Review for nearly the entire day - it's a collection of short stories and as you know, the rule of short stories is that you can never read one only once. I'm halfway through the 14th one and suffering because (as with most short stories) it makes no sense (The Palace Thief by Ethan Canin); nonetheless, this book is definitely living up to the editor's claim that it is "useful to young writers, and to others interested in literary technique." All 13.5 of the stories I've been reading so far prove their educational worth in some form.

One can read through these stories and learn much about "the art of the short story" the same way one could observe a class of students, identify the athlete, artist and writer, and learn much about people.



Joy Williams' Dimmer, the incipient story in this collection, exemplifies the wonderful way an amalgamation of poetry and prose can pan out. James Salter's Bangkok, which abandons the use of quotation marks (I love this) and instead allows the characters' conversation to melt into the pulse of the story, is dialogue-dedicated and henceforth instructive. Mary-Beth Hughes' Pelican Song and Bernard Cooper's Old Birds (the latter is the long lost cousin of Adam Haslett's Notes to my Biographer) exemplify how to seamlessly craft in prose a loving and often heartbreaking parent-child relationship. Let's not forget the killer 'gambling' metaphor in Craig Nova's Another Drunk Gambler. 

We've all heard the saying, "Watch and Learn."
Object Lessons shows that it is important, too, to "Read and Learn."