Elsewhere: “Review: ‘Bartleby Snopes’ May 2012 Fiction” on Ruelle Electrique

It’s been a long hiatus but I’m now back as resident literary critic for the arts and culture blog, Ruelle Electrique. As a “comeback” blog post, I reviewed fiction from the online literary magazine “Bartleby Snopes,” which publishes two short stories a week, then holds a contest at the end of the month to decide readers’ most favorite fiction piece from that month’s selection. My vote goes to Obama (whoops, sorry, that’s my primary election ballot), err, Stephen Ornes’s lighthearted nightmare “A Virus,” in which a father’s parenting nightmare comes true and snowballs into an absurd grotesque story.

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Review: “The New Yorker” May 21, 2012 Fiction

“The Proxy Marriage” by Maile Meloy

An accessible read about the ups and downs of unrequited love, seen through the eyes of pianist William. Spanning several years, the story centers around William’s secret love for high school friend Bridey, an aspiring actress blind to her friend’s affections. William remains tight-lipped about his affection for all the typical reasons we mask or withhold from expressing true feelings of love (timidity, fear of the unknown/unpredicted response, etc.). William’s angst is further compounded when Bridey’s lawyer father asks William and Bridey to stand in as proxies in wedding ceremonies for soldiers in Afghanistan and Iraq and their fiancees back in America (proxy marriages, we learn, are permitted by Montana law). What results is a proxy relationship of sorts for William. Though not binding them legally, the numerous “I do’s” Bridey and William share through the years hold significance for William. He feels a significant, almost husbandly, sense of betrayal when Bridey marries another man. But all is not lost, as Bridey conveniently (story-wise) gets a divorce, paving the way for a final opportunity for William to affirm his love for her. Overall, a lighthearted read. I’m not particularly averse to love stories or happy endings, so the story read fine to me (though one does wish the ending had more to it).

Review: “The New Yorker” February 27, 2012 Fiction

Thomas McGuane’s “A Prairie Girl”

A cursorily told story that leaves you quite a few bites from satiation.

Former prostitute Mary Elizabeth enters into a marriage of convenience with Arnold Tanner, the gay son of a wealthy banking family. It’s part of a scheme, we learn:  Her childhood home had been foreclosed upon, and a sort of revenge comes full-circle when she inevitably drives Arnold’s parents out of the picture and, after an amicable divorce from Arnold, takes over the Tanner bank herself.

Sparseness is not McGuane’s friend here. The play-by-play narration is ultimately the culprit, never incenting the reader to fully invest, as it were. It’s as if with each elicited “So what?” from the reader, the story’s reply (just like Mary Elizabeth’s oft repeated dismissal) is:  ”What business is it of yours?”

Review: “The New Yorker” February 13 & 20, 2012 Fiction

“Citizen Conn” by Michael Chabon

Enjoyable read, told in Chabon’s usually entertaining and accessible comic-book-nerdy style.

A rabbi at an assisted living facility (our narrator) finds herself mediating a long-standing chill in relations between two former creative partners, Morty Feather and Artie Conn, legends in the comic book world. The story goes that the latter had long ago essentially sold out their partnership, and with it any royalties they may have received. Atoning for his past misdeed–precipitated by Morty’s impending death–Artie makes earnest, but ultimately misguided, attempts at reconciling with his former friend. It’s a commonplace turmoil in relationships–one party clueless about any wrongdoing on his part (and when making amends, grasping for the wrong clues), while the other feels it unnecessary to have to drop any clues. Though in this case, Morty does leave behind, albeit postmortem, a clue–an explanation tragically lost on Artie. Artie glosses over the real reason behind his deceased friend’s anger, not because he chooses to but just because he can’t perceive it. He never understands the epiphany spelled out for us by our narrator–that it was not the fortune but rather his friendship that Morty felt Artie had thrown away.

Review: “The New Yorker” February 6, 2012 Fiction

“Los Gigantes” by T. Coraghessan Boyle

Out of all the T.C. Boyle stories I’ve ever read, I can’t for the life of me remember one I truly ever loved. This one follows in that tradition, though for whatever reason I liked it more than his usual fare.

Our narrator is an exceptionally big man, one of a select-few caged and daily observed and pampered by the government of some ambiguous Latin American country. They are being primed for mating with volunteer giantesses, in hopes that such breeding would produce a super-army of giants (a humorous eugenic experiment borne of paranoia, as the country has many enemies, we are told).

One of the more exceptionally porcine of the giants tells our narrator forebodingly that the dictator of this country–absent throughout the story except via mentions as some blindly revered figure–once bred cattles. We are thus set up for an age-old theme:  Duty to one’s country at the expense of the individual. The lab rat giants and giantesses capitulate simple-mindedly to patriotic appeals from their minders; one has a duty to one’s country (and one’s president) after all, no?

How the narrator breaks free from the herd (as he most inevitably would have to) is quite funny and rather moving (a nice tip of the hat back to a throwaway line about mistaking a Hebrew figure as Greek early on in the story). In one of the story’s most memorable lines, the narrator ruminates, “Am I a beast of burden? Yes. But I’m nobody’s beast but my own.”

Overall, an odd delight of a story.

Review: 2012 U.S. Figure Skating Championships

Jeremy Abbott performing a flying upright spin toward the end of his free skate, set to "Exogenesis Symphony, Part 3."

For many figure skating aficianados, the week of the U.S. Figure Skating Championships is either (for those who find allure in the technical aspects of the sport) their Super Bowl, or (for those who lean more toward its pageantry) a sort of Fashion Week. Sadly one of the only remaining major figure skating competitions broadcast on national television today (compared to the sport’s heyday in the ’90s and early 2000s, when cheesefests galore saturated the airwaves), the national championships have by default become the figure skating event of the season. A showcase of national talent, it’s a great opportunity (and for those without a subscription to IceNetwork.com or Universal Sports, a rare occasion) to view works of art set to ice. Below, in no particular order, are a few standout performances for me from these championships.

Meryl Davis & Charlie White. Arguably the superior ice dance couple in the Marina Zoueva/Igor Shpilband stable, Davis and White glowed with their “Die Fledermaus” free dance routine, a classic and exquisite choice for them this year. Under the Code of Points judging system, much of ice dancing may often have the patina of acrobatics, over-complex and perplexing. But Davis and White make every required twizzle and dance lift mesh smoothly into the choreography (a credit as well to their choreographer, Zoueva). When watching their free skate, it feels like an actual waltz, as opposed to a figure skating routine aspiring to be a waltz. Zoueva has always been a master at picking just the right music for her wards (case in point, Davis and White’s Indian folk music original dance from the 2010 Olympic season, and their regal “Samson and Delilah” free dance from the season prior), and here she hits the mark yet again. In terms of music, I tend to think that there are those fitting for an Olympic year; Davis and White’s music choices make every year feel like an Olympic year.

Gretchen Donlan and Andrew Speroff. An appealing pair with an appealing free skate program to Tchaikovsky’s “Sleeping Beauty. Sadly, being in the penultimate group to skate, their free skate was not broadcast on NBC (though it is available to view on IceNetwork.com). Their performance was not perfect (one can only wonder how much higher in the standings they would have been had they hit their side-by-side triple toe loops and double Axels, and perhaps had a tad more unison in their side-by-side spins), but it was filled with such beautiful highlights (their combination pair spin, their immense throw triple Salchow) and ended with such graceful power. As Peter Carruthers points out rather effusively on the IceNetwork.com webcast, Donlan bears more than a passing resemblance to the great Ekaterina Gordeeva, who won the 1988 and 1994 Olympic gold medals with her late husband Sergei Grinkov; the less-known Tiffany Stiegler also comes to my mind when I look at Donlan. Speerof on the other hand has a gentle, masculine strength about him to complement her fragility. This pair has such a fluid, balletic style, striking such elegant poses, beautiful extensions. This kind of sophistication and elegance is more of what the dwindling U.S. pairs program needs.

Vincent Zhou. The novice men’s title is again held by a precocious young skater. Vincent Zhou is, in some ways, similar to last year’s phenom Nathan Chen (a two-time novice national champion, and this year’s junior national champion). They both have the perfectionist about them (as such, I rather worry about the risks of burnout and injury, as I do with anyone attaining such great heights at such a young age). They also have similar body lines and have an understanding of transitions that most skaters many years their senior struggle to attain. (Though in terms of presentation, Zhou seems the more naturally expressive; but that’s neither here nor there, as both skaters are competing, at least for now, on different levels–though the prospect of a men’s field with the both of them in the future is quite bracing). Zhou’s charismatic “Nut Rocker” short program routine left me smiling broadly after I watched it.

Jeremy Abbott. After shattering the US nationals record for a men’s short program score with his Buddy Schwimmer-choreographed short program to a medley of swing music, Abbott bested his free skate score (then a record) from two years ago after his performance to an instrumental version of Muse’s “Exogenesis Symphony, Part 3: Redemption.” (Redemption indeed, after not placing on the podium at last year’s nationals). Abbott has always had a keen respect for dance and choreography–he can include in his resume a diverse range of choreographers, such as Christopher Dean, Tom Dickson, Kurt Browning, Shae-Lynn Bourne, Pasquale Camerlengo, Antonio Najarra, and David Wilson–and it shone through in his self-choreographed free skate performance. The choreography is inspired, marred only by an under-rotated triple Rittberger/loop and a doubled Salchow. I tend to dislike footwork nowadays, but both his leveled and choreographed step sequences had such replay-ability. I watched his performance several times over, enthralled by the beauty of its construction, trying to at first figure out the mystery of it, but after a while just sitting back and letting the enigma of its beauty overtake me. Abbott garnered a couple of 10s in the program component scores from one judge (which are akin to the 6.0s of the old judging system) and received 9s across the board (a phenomenal feat). One can only wish for a performance of this program with the quadruple toe loop-triple toe loop combination Abbott seems to have been landing with more consistency as of late. Despite an extensive international experience (dating back to 2007), Abbott is largely unproven, but holds, based on program component scores from recent judging protocols from this past fall’s Grand Prix series, the promise of matching the seemingly invincible (despite falls, confoundingly) Patrick Chan in artistry.

Michelle Kwan. Kwan was the lone inductee to this year’s Hall of Fame, a fitting tribute given that San Jose (the venue for this year’s national championships) was where she skated her revolutionary “Salome” long program to her first national title, heralding a decade-long reign by the “Kween,” as she is affectionately called by fans. Kwan’s impact on the sport is everlasting, Olympic gold medal or not. Her singular style and expression (ushered forth through the tutelage of her coach Frank Carroll and choreographer Lori Nichol) made her the perfect canvas on which any figure skating choreographer could ever be lucky enough to attempt to paint. Below is a clip of the then-fifteen-year-old, whose winning performance, among a catalog of other exemplary performances, should be required viewing for any skating pupil.

Other notes: I had hoped Joshua Farris, who competed in the senior men’s event, could mesmerize yet again with his “Claire de Lune” short program as he had three times throughout the Junior Grand Prix circuit this fall; it is a beaut that shows off his great line and vast improvements (in terms of carriage and presence) from last year. Thankfully, we’ll be seeing him and the equally beautiful Jason Brown (who also had a disappointing showing here) at the Junior Worlds, where they will perhaps seek some redemption.

Review: “The New Yorker” January 2, 2012 Fiction

“Creative Writing” by Etgar Keret

Such a wonderfully layered piece, bizarre and mutedly beautiful.

After suffering a miscarriage, Maya signs up for a creative writing workshop, where she writes three stories, byproducts of her subconscious. “Isn’t it weird,” Maya bemusedly poses to her husband Aviad, “how my brain didn’t know yet, but my subconscious did?” Perhaps out of jealousy, he follows suit and joins a creative writing course as well, where he attempts to write his own story in the same automatic writing style.

Not much is revealed to us about Maya and Aviad on the surface–Keret masterfully restrains from spelling out any unease between them, save for a brief spat quickly made inconsequential (“She forgave him”). Instead what we are presented with are the couple’s four stories from which we can gather subtext regarding their marriage. It’s a beauty how Keret limns the jarring disconnect between the mundanity of their real world interactions and the evident turmoils in their fictions.

I found the synopses of the stories-within-the-story rather fascinating (too well-conceived magical realist stories or fairy tales perhaps, as it might have been more believable for two non-writers to produce cliched pap, the usual amateur writer fare–but where would the poetry be in that, I suppose). I loved the second story, in which only loved ones are visible to a person, which proves itself a complication in a loveless marriage (nice writerly conflict there, again making Maya not believable as a beginner writer). I was also taken by the melancholy of Aviad’s fish story. Here is a man transformed into something he never set out to be, but who has grown to accept it. Yet, despite habituating–just as perhaps Aviad himself has settled rather absently or passively into married life–there is always a residual longing for the sea.

Hauntingly beautiful stuff.

Review: “Doctor Who” Series 6, Ep 10: “The Girl Who Waited”

This older, tougher, and katana-wielding Amy might just kick the Doctor's whimsical time-traveling butt!

Rating: ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

It all started because there were two buttons.

Expecting “sunsets, spires, and soaring colonnades,” the Doctor takes Amy and Rory to the planet Apalapucia, which unbeknownst to him is quarantined. Specifically, they land in a Twostreams “kindness facility,” where 40,000 two-hearted beings infected with the “one-day plague” (a bacterium that kills its host after one day) are, with the aid of time manipulation, given the opportunity to live out their entire lives in the span of 24 hours. Here’s where it gets “extra wubbly”: The facility has a visiting room which exists in parallel timestreams running at different speeds. A loved one can, from the “normal” timestream, in the same room, observe the afflicted patient (whose timestream runs faster) live life and grow older. It is this somewhat confusing plot device that sets the story in motion, as the Doctor and Rory find themselves on the visitor side (the “Green Anchor” area), while Amy, lagging behind, unknowingly enters the patient side (the “Red Waterfalls” area). When her boys finally get a chance to infiltrate her timestream and rescue her (a matter of minutes to them), they find an embittered Amy who has advanced in age by 36 years.

My favorite "Doctor Who" writer du jour, Tom MacRae. Dear Steven Moffat, please invite him to write more!

It’s a positively “timey-wimey” plot, classically Moffat-esque, but the script was actually written by Tom MacRae, of “Rise of the Cybermen” and “The Age of Steel” fame. I wasn’t much a fan of those two previous DW episodes, but this one was an absolute cracker. In a way it acts as a mirror to Neil Gaiman’s “The Doctor’s Wife” from the first half of series 6; whereas with that, we got to see the Doctor heartbreakingly meet an impossible manifestation of a loved one (the TARDIS), here Rory meets an impossible version (by way of a paradox) of his own wife. This episode might well have been called “Rory’s Wife” (or the more clever “Rory’s Choice,” as I’ve read in another review). I’m a fan of symmetry, so appreciated that much. (I must say though, I wonder how much of the script was actually rewritten by head writer Moffat himself; there were albeit very welcome references to “The Eleventh Hour”; also, the idea of an older version of someone watching a younger version of himself and his life and memories change in front of him is very “A Christmas Carol”).

Kudos to Karen Gillan, who truly shows her acting chops here. I grew fond of her older Amy; so much so that I rather wish Rory and the Doctor decided in the end to forego the younger Amy and instead steal away with the older. Through the years of waiting, the older Amy became not just a survivor but also a genius hacker, resourceful sonic screwdriver maker, a battleworn action heroine (having to face down through the years the faceless robotic maintenance staff, or the “Handbots,” as the Doctor calls them) and eventually, in an impossible and funny way, a cougar (seeing her flirt with Rory in the presence of her younger version incited giggles from me–the thought of a menage a trois between a man and his two wives!). The older Amy is well-designed as a character, down to her makeshift armor and her samurai sword and staff (which she got presumably from the facility by way of the Apalapucians being cultural scavengers). I can only wish my older version of myself were that kick-arse! Her transformation–from having grown to despise her Raggedy Doctor for abandoning her, to rediscovering how to laugh and love again (the kiss between older Amy and Rory was hot–the Doctor is not the only cougar cub in the TARDIS!) to being selfless enough to let her younger self live a full life with Rory–was ultimately narratively satisfying.

I love how this episode, even as a stand-alone, enriched our view of and also advanced Amy’s and Rory’s relationship. We find out endearing and funny tidbits about their young love, i.e. that their first kiss was set to the ‘90s song “Macarena,” and Rory’s brush with guitar-playing. (I actually think it’s this aspect of the episode that makes me wonder if Moffat had rewritten much of MacRae’s script, as Amy and Rory are Moffat’s characters).

A tearjerker scene, in which older Amy accepts her fate. "Did I ever tell you about this boy I met there who pretended to be in a band?"

There were many whacky scenes–like Rory cutely and absurdly marching out of the TARDIS with his Rory-cam glasses and a giant magnifying glass, or Rory decommissioning a Handbot with a replica of the Mona Lisa–interspersed with heartbreaking scenes throughout–like the scene in which older Amy considers (and ultimately foregoes) putting on lipstick for Rory, while Rory meets his “disarmed” Handbot substitute. And of course there’s the tearjerker of a scene in which the Doctor locks the older Amy out of the TARDIS and leaves it up to Rory to make the decision about which Amy he wants to save. Murray’ Gold’s beautiful music further bolstered the episode.

Overall, “The Girl Who Waited” is a beautifully and cleverly told stand-alone story. It’s lush, on a budget. An episode that I highly recommend be given numerous repeat viewings on one’s iPlayer.

Quotables:

Doctor (and later, Amy): “Eyes front, soldier!”

Check-In Girl: “Or try our roller coaster zone, authentically modeled on the famous Warpspeed Death Ride at Disneyland-Clom.”

Older Amy: “You’re asking me to defy destiny, causality, the nexus of time itself for a boy?”

Older Amy: “I’m going to pull time apart for you.”

Doctor: “Sometimes knowing your own future is what enables you to change it. Especially if you’re bloody-minded, contradictory and completely unpredictable.”

Doctor: “If anyone could defeat pre-destiny, it’s your wife.”

Rory: “Two Amys together. Can that work?”
Doctor: “I don’t know. It’s your marriage.”
Rory: “Doctor.”
Doctor: “Perhaps, maybe if I shunted the reality compensators on the TARDIS, recalibrated the doomsday bumpers and jettisoned the karaoke bar, yes, maybe, yes. It could do it. The TARDIS could sustain the paradox.”

Doctor: “Come on, Rory. It’s hardly rocket science. It’s just quantum physics.”

Younger & Older Amy: “Which one’s Amy 1? I am. No, I am.”

Rory: “I’m not on my own. I’ve got my wives!”

Rory: “Amy, you always say, cooking Chrismas dinner, you wish there were two of you.”

Review: “Doctor Who” Series 6, Ep 8: “Let’s Kill Hitler”

There's a first time for everything. The Doctor being kissed by his "bespoke psychopath."

Rating: ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ 1/2

Leadworth crop circles! Rose, Martha, and Donna! (Sorta). A sonic cane! Hitler in a cupboard!

After an excruciating three-month absence from the airwaves, ”Doctor Who” – and the mad, mad brain of head writer Steven Moffat – is back.

“Let’s Kill Hitler” brings the Doctor to 1938 Berlin and face to face with the biggest war criminal in the universe. And no, I don’t mean the Fuhrer himself (who gets relegated rather whimsically to a cupboard for much of the episode); I’m talking River Song, the half-Time Lady who will one day kill or has already killed (it’s all so timey-wimey) the Doctor on April 22, 2011, 5:02 p.m. at Lake Silencio in Utah.

It’s a cleverly constructed episode that had its own revelations to match the big one of “A Good Man Goes to War” that came before it. I was delightfully surprised by Mels’s concealed identity as Melody Pond. How funny that the Doctor had been searching for baby Melody when she’d actually been hiding in plain sight all along as Amy’s and Rory’s childhood friend (how many people can say they grew up alongside their parents?). And that regeneration! Kudos to the Moff for confirming the idea that regenerations can transcend race. Here, we witness Melody Pond’s second and final regeneration (her first was as a child in New York; and she sacrificed her remaining regenerations to save a prematurely dying Doctor).

So much for "temporal grace!" It was all just a lie, you idiot!

I’m actually rather surprised by this limitation Moffat has imposed upon himself. I had thought the introduction of the idea that River is in fact a Time Lady a clever one that could provide an out for the Moff should Alex Kingston (god forbid the day) ever bow out of the role; that is, her departure could be explained away via a regeneration. Allowing River only two regenerations (both already used up) makes things much more tenuous, but the upside is that River Song will forever be tied with Alex Kingston. Bottom line is that I long for the episodes in which River Song appears. I believe her next appearance will be in 9, followed by 13.

Moffat’s trademark humor is evident throughout the episode. I love the bonkers Bat signal-like opening, the flashes back to Amy, Rory, and Mels as children, Amy mistaking Rory for gay, how the Doctor and Melody try to outwit each other (I love the banana bit). I also liked Moffat’s “monster of the week,” the Tesselecta, a Justice Department robot that can tessellate into anyone and anything for the purpose of hunting down criminals via time travel. Oh, and did I mention it has a miniaturization ray?

One minor nitpick: Moffat seems to be engaging more and more in recyclage. Amy being seemingly passive for much of the episode and then saving the day at the snap of a finger (via some impossibly clever deduction), like in “The Beast Below,” is getting to be rather formulaic. Also, Moffat seems to cleave heavily to the chicken-and-egg paradox to explain things away, i.e. Mels (the daughter) brokering the beginning of Amy’s and Rory’s (her parents’) relationship; “You named your daughter after your daughter.” But like I said, nitpicks.

What We’ve Learned:

• This is the first time Melody Pond (at least as an adult) meets the Doctor. This is the episode in which she takes on the name “River Song” and receives her TARDIS diary from the Doctor. We learn that she becomes an archaeologist to be able to track down the Doctor.
• The Silence is in fact a religious sect with a vendetta against the Doctor. They believe “Silence will fall” once a question – the first question, hidden in plain sight – is asked (presumably, “Doctor who?”). There is also mention of an “Academy of the Question.”

Questions:

• Does River’s imparting her own regenerations resolve the 13-regeneration limit for the Doctor?
• I still can’t get my head around the chronology (which is not surprising, given this is “Doctor Who”):  How did Melody get from New York in the ’60s to Leadworth in the ’90s?
• When exactly did River (or Melody) kill the Doctor? As a child? Why the spacesuit in “The Impossible Astronaut?”
• What did the Doctor whisper into River’s ear? Does it tie in to what River whispered into the Doctor’s ear in “Forest of the Dead?”
• Apart from religion, is there a connection between The Church, the Headless Monks, and the Silence?

Quotables:

• “I don’t do weddings.” -Mels (interesting for her/River to say, given that episode 13 is entitled “The Wedding of River Song”)
• “A significant factor in Hitler’s rise to power is that the Doctor didn’t stop him” -Mels
• “I’d love to, he’s gorgeous, he’s my favorite guy, but he’s, you know, gay.” -teenage Amy, talking about the impossibility of being with Rory
• “Oh, hello. Sorry, is this your office? Had a sort of collision with my vehicle. Faults on both sides. Let’s say no more about…it.” -The Doctor to Adolf
• “Oh shut up, Dad! I’m focusing on a dress size!” -Mels, shushing Rory as she’s about to regenerate
• “Goodness, is killing you gonna take all day?” / “Why? You busy?” / “Oh, I’m not complaining.” / “If you were in a hurry, you could have killed me in the cornfield.” / “We’d only just met. I’m a psychopath. I’m not rude.” -Melody / The Doctor
• “Come on, there must be someone left in the universe I haven’t screwed up yet!” -The Doctor, trying to find the right companion for the TARDIS voice interface
• “Ladies and gentlemen: I don’t have a thing to wear. Take off your clothes!” -Melody
• “I’m trapped inside a giant robot replica of my wife. I’m really trying not to see this as a metaphor.” -Rory
• “You’re dying. And you stopped to change?” / “Oh, you should always waste time when you don’t have any! Time is not the boss of you. Rule 408.” -Melody / The Doctor
• “Kidneys are always the first to quit!” -The Doctor (a nice reference back to “The Doctor’s Wife”)

Elsewhere: “Review: ‘An Old Junker: a senior represents’ by Howard Junker” on Ruelle Electrique

Word.

Ruelle Electrique just published my review of “An Old Junker: A senior represents,” by Howard Junker. For his latest effort, the former ZYZZYVA editor has taken on the role of bricoleur, constructing an entertaining nonfiction novel out of blog posts he’d written between the period of 2006-2010. By presenting us his “greatest hits” (with blog entries reordered into more cohesive categories), Junker provides a funny and engaging composite portrait of an editor.

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