There is something so cinematic about Nick Hornby's writing. It isn't surprising that so many of his books have been optioned and that he also recently wrote a screenplay. His characters all feel real, but in a fanciful way.
In Juliet, Naked, we are given a scenario that, if over simplified, would come across as wildly unrealistic. A woman in her late thirties, living is a seaside town in Northern England, is unsatisfied with her 15 year relationship with a man obsessed with an obscure rock singer who disappeared from the public eye 20 years prior. The woman then, in an act of spite towards her long-term partner, posts an unfavorable review of the release of the obscure rock star's demos from his most famous album, Juliet. The striped down version is known as Juliet, Naked.
The woman's review sparks the interest of the real musician, who then e-mails her. They continue their e-mail flirtation for a while. Her long-term partner then cheats on her with a woman who teaches at the same college as him, and gives the woman a reason to leave - guilt free.
The rock star, now living Pennsylvania with his estranged wife and their six-year-old son. We learn the rock star has several children he hardly sees, all with different mothers. After his marriage ends, and one of his estranged daughters' suffers a miscarriage in England, he travels to London to see her, but also to meet his internet flirtation - Annie.
The aged obscure ex-rock star, Tucker Crowe, suffers from a heart attack while in London. Yadda yadda yadda - he asks Annie to take him to her quaint little sea side town to recuperate. Here he meets Annie's ex, Duncan, who is his biggest fan.
Anyways - Annie falls for Tucker, Tucker seems to like her as well...and the end is open for our own interpretation.
This story might seem silly and contrived, but there seems to be an honest sense of reality here. Mainly having to due with fan perception versus reality.
We all claim to know what's happening to our favourite stars, or those we love to hate, because some jerk-off from TMZ or Perez Hilton tell us. The truth is that we cannot presume anything. And that those living their lives out loud, in front of the cameras, are creating their own imagine, but those who hide have stories we cannot know.
The other aspect of the story that struck me was the relationships it presents. The main character, Annie, is given a chance to redeem herself after spending 15 years with a cold and dull man who's only passion was for a rock star who hadn't produced anything new in over 20 years. The fact that Annie got to know the real Tucker, the man Duncan would never understand, is part of the nice little package that draws the two points together. Meaningful relationships vs. Superficial fantasies.
The book ends with message board postings from the Tucker Crowe fan page. The messages suggest that Tucker releases a new album after his long absence from making music, and the posters, including Duncan, rip it apart. There is one curious post from a woman who goes by "Uptown Girl" who states that she and her husband love it. The romantic in me hopes that this woman is Annie. Even if Tucker isn't her husband, it is my wish that she finally makes herself happy.
Normally I wouldn't read a book like this. A fake book. I understand that it is, a "real" book - in that it has text and a story (sort of). I read this because it is a tie-in to one of my favourite TV shows Californication starring David Duchovny. This book, Good Hates Us All, is Hank Moody's best novel, his "Gatsby" as his friend Lew Ashby put it. The novel that was optioned and brought him to California from New York.
The book I read, by Jonathan Grotenstein, was not this novel. Hank wouldn't have written this. The story seemed contrived and not at all compelling. I Googled Mr. Grotenstein and discovered he is a professional poker player and has written at least one book...about poker. Stick to what you know, Jonathan.
It would have been more interesting if the network had put one of the writers of the show on the project. Have those who write Hank's dialogue write his words.
The main character is never named, which I guess is fine, but all the other crazy characters end up named - in a way that makes them hard to keep track of. The story doesn't seem to have a well thought out plot and seems to jump around in a way that makes the reader question what's important and who's important. Things happen that don't make sense and seem like filler.
In the show, Hank's agent, Charlie Runkle, says that all Hank's book have an element of truth in them. In this version of God Hates Us All, I can't find the real life basis. Who is supposed to be Karen, Hank's soulmate? Is it the super model, K.? Or the psychotic arsonist, Daphne? Neither seem to represent a flattering version of Karen.
I read it because I was curious, but now I wish I hadn't - these aren't the fictitious Hank's words, these are the words of some dude trying to be as cool and edgy as he imagines Hank would be.
It just ends up being silly and unconvincing.
Nice try.
Up Next: Juliet, Naked by Nick Hornby (a book I have high hopes for)
There isn't much to say about this book. I find David Sedaris's work delightful. His stories are amusing and honest. He's open with talking about his idiosyncrasies, as well as his family and loved ones.
I wrote a blog on My Quarter-life Crisis blog in the summer called What Would David Sedaris Do? My topic was about how one writes about people they know without making them mad, upsetting them, or making them uncomfortable.
One of Sedaris's essays is about how his sister felt uncomfortable telling him a story, as she was concerned he would run off with it as if it was his own to tell. He mentions how his family, after his successful books, would end all their stories by saying, 'You can't write about this,' or 'This is just between us.'
The same essay makes mention of one of his books being optioned. The concern wasn't that the screen writer and actors would get his family all wrong, but that shockingly, they would get them right.
I pretty much recommend anything by David Sedaris.
Next: God Hates Us All by Hank Moody*
This book is full of essays so new they feature commentary on events that happened only a few months ago. Unlike Klosterman's last essay collection, Eating the Dinosaur is full of new, never been published pieces. In order to review a book like this I should really just say something about each essay:
1. Something Instead of Nothing: This one is about why people answer interview questions. Aside from self-promotion, it's strange to answer questions in an interview type situation. Subject matter aside, Klosterman breaks up his arguments in a strange way, he writes several mini-chapters within each essay. 1, 2, 3, 1A, 2A, 3A, 2A, 2B etc. it's a bit annoying to read something like that. I mean it's an interesting way to write, but a bit hard to follow at times. You have to remind yourself of what you just read a few pages back, "Oh, were back to that topic..."
2. Oh, The Guilt: This one is about Nirvana's In Utero and The Branch Davidian disaster from the 90s. I didn't know about the Branch Davidian thing, so the references were a bit lost of me. The gist of the essay is that Nirvana tried to make an album that people would hate because they felt guilty for being so popular, or something to that effect. There is reference to the show Lost that I enjoyed. It was about how the character of Jack was listening to a song off of In Utero before he was about to try to jump off a bridge - due to his guilt over leaving the island. Sorry if my geekdom just went into overdrive there for a moment.
3. Tomorrow Rarely Knows: This one is about the problems that arise when considering how time travel might actually work. Most of the references are about how time travel has been used and portrayed in films. The title of the book comes from this essay, as Klosterman discusses travelling back in time: "What's the best reason for exploding the parameters of reality? With the possible exception of eating a dinosaur, I don't think there is one."
4. What We Talk About When We Talk About Ralph Sampson: This one is about a basketball player who failed to dazzle in the 80s. I didn't get much out of this one.
5. Through a Glass Blindly: This one is about voyeurism. Klosterman talks about being about to see a woman in a neighbouring apartment through her window, and how she would be able to do the same. He never saw anything creepy or wrong, and enjoyed just seeing her doing everyday things. He had no desire to create some sort of story for her. I thought he probably should have bought some drapes, but that's just me.
6. The Passion of the Garth: This one is about that period in Garth Brooks' career when he became "Chris Gaines." This one is pretty amusing - I never really knew too much about it when it happened, but I knew it was a failure. The essay explores other artists failed attempts to create a persona.
7. Football: I read this and I don't know why.
8. ABBA 1, The World 0: About how everyone loves ABBA. Also, another Lost reference/joke in this one. I love that Klosterman watches Lost.
9. "Ha ha" He said. "Ha ha": This one is about how annoying laugh tracks are, and I understand why. But I have realized that I tune out laugh tracks. In the essay he mentions that laugh tracks are still used by shows such as How I Met Your Mother and Big Bang Theory, and I honestly can't recall really noticing ever. Even last night I didn't notice the laugh tracks while watching those shows. I read this essay last week, so you'd think I'd be more aware of them, but I'm not.
10. It Will Shock You How Much it Never Happened: This one is about Pepsi's recent rebranding. They used Barack Obama and the recession to sell pop. Trying to engineer false optimism. He also ties in Mad Men, a show about a 1960s advertising firm.
11. T is for True: This one interested me the most because it mentions Weezer and Rivers Cuomo. This essay is about three people who are very literal when it comes to what they create and say. He uses German filmmaker, Werner Herog, Rivers Cuomo, and Ralph Nador as examples. The issue with Cuomo is that his songs are all very literal. The lyrics usually talk about very specific events. Klosterman discusses that this is how Weezer's songs have always been, but fans, or former fans have only been annoyed by it since Pinkerton. I believe Klosterman is defending Cuomo, but I'm not so sure.
12. FAIL: Is an essay about Ted Kaczynski (The Unabomber) and the points he makes that are correct, but irrelevant now because he murdered people. Klosterman is in no way defending the Unabomber, just stating that some of the things he wrote about in his manifesto weren't entirely crazy. I also learned why he was known as The Unabomber. "Un" is because he sent letter bombs to Universities, and the "a" is because he sent them to airports.
Well that is my review of Eating the Dinosaur. Hope it serves you well.
Up next: Dress Your Family in Corduroy and Denim by David Sedaris.
The Wild Things is something of a companion piece to go along with the new film, Where the Wild Things Are, directed by Spike Jonze and written by Spike Jonze and Dave Eggers. This novelized version of Maurice Sendak's illustrated children's book, Where the Wild Things Are, provides an expanded story and landscape for the story.
In the acknowledgments section Eggers writes that it was not his intention to write the book like Sendak's, nor was it his plan to translate the film into a novel - it was to be a fusion of all versions of the story. Now I have not yet seen the film, so I cannot speak to the similarities and differences, at least not yet.
The story is like a twisted Wizard of Oz/Alice in Wonderland type tale. The young boy, Max, is dissatisfied with his home-life. He runs away and happens upon an abandoned sailboat. He sails off into the ocean until he reaches the island where he meets the wild things. He declares himself their king, but that doesn't equal a peaceful kingdom. Things on the island aren't much better than things were at home. In fact, at home he didn't have to worry about his family eating him.
In the end, there's no place like home.
It's never really said that Max's time on the island is a fantasy or dream (or nightmare, really). Max believes that he's been away from home for what feels like years - but that might speak to childhood. As children we feel like time goes so much slower than it does when we're adults. On the island Max tried to be the adult - the one in charge - the king, but in the end he was just a little boy who wanted to go home.
The book is for everyone, not just the kids. It's definitely a book about childhood - which is something every adult needs to be reminded of every so often.
I'd been holding off on reading this book for some time now - mostly because it is the basis of one of my favourite films. I'd always heard that the books took place in England, rather than Chicago (like the film) made me scared that the differences between them would be too vast.
To my surprise much of the dialogue is the same and the characters - only in the book they're British, Laura's hair is dark, Rob's last name is Fleming, not Gordon, and Marie DeSalle is black, and Marie has a more prominent role in the book.
There are differences, don't get me wrong, but I was surprised how well the film followed the book - a rarity in adaptations.
I'm at a place in my life right now where I am reevaluating things - my past, my future. Though I doubt I'd ever have the balls to call up guys from the past to ask why they didn't want me - the concept has crossed my mind. I understand why someone would want to do that - even if it's painful.
This book took me longer than it should have to read. Fall makes me tired, I can't seem to speed through books the way I did in the summer.
Anyways, there isn't much to review here - Nick Hornby just seems to tap into the real in ways that average people understand - that must be why so many of his books have been turned into movies.
I'll begin this review by stating that after reading this book, I'm not sure I could handle the movie. The images in my head were enough - do I really need to see this truly terrifying and sad tale play out on the big screen? I may give it a go, but I'm scared to see it.
It was a really good book - but really sad. The story is simple, yet complex. A father (the man) and son (the boy) walk along an abandoned highway (the road) headed south to escape the cold. Oh, I should mention it takes place in post-apocalyptic America. There are no names for places and things anymore - just ash and death.
They encounter many disturbing things - things that showcase the darkest side of human nature. The side that allows for some moral flexibility when it comes to survival. Who are the good guys? Who are the bad? The man and the boy are the good guys, but the boy often questions this when they are forced to act selfishly in order to survive.
There are no chapters in this book - which reflects the story. A life with no order. No days of the week, no months, no years, no knowledge of seasons. Though it makes it hard for the reader to know where to stop, it allows for an interesting flow.
The story is about a father-son relationship in peril. The man, while trying to survive himself, is protecting his son, and wants to keep his innocence (several attempts are made to shield him from the horrors of this new world).
I can't really say much else without giving away the ending. But I will say this, The Road is both hopeful and hopeless. There are no laws in this world. Just ideas of good and bad, good and evil.
If anyone sees this film in October, let me know how it is. I need to know if I can stomach it or not.
