Coming in around 240 pages, what this little number lacks in length it makes up for with… nothing really. It lacks all around.

The story’s protagonist is Cassandra, a down-on-her-luck tabloid reporter who purportedly has talent but has squandered it due in part to a failing marriage, a series of mischarges, a list of bad decisions, and, oh yeah, she’s an alcoholic too. This barely tolerable cliché of a woman is a Korean orphan raised by a strict Jewish woman in Mesopotamia, Tennessee. Can anyone say “issues?” Or, how about “who cares.”

Here is an excerpt from a review by David Pitt from Booklist, the review journal of the American Library Association, which sums it up almost perfectly:

“…a down-and-out reporter stumbles onto the story of a lifetime and risks everything she has to solve a series of murders that will blow the lid off a small-town scandal. Ho-hum, right? Wrong.”

No, not wrong – dead on. Goodnight.

Pitt continues, “No reader is going to look at this book and think: Oh, well, another story about a homeless, broke, alcoholic tabloid reporter of Korean descent, a couple of dead Elvis impersonators, and a tax attorney’s missing wife.”

No, I think people are going to think much, much worse. The book had potential. The story could have been funny and quirky, but a few potentially interesting characters and plot elements is no excuse for uninspired, lazy writing.

Exhibit A:

“If I didn’t find this chimerical man tonight, I was going to risk a confrontation with the venomous Major.”

While it’s not fair to pull a sentence out of context, Nersesian’s use of ridiculous adjectives to populate meaningless sentences should be called out.

The Major referenced in the excerpt above, “Snake Major,” is just one of the ludicrously named yokels hanging around the Elvis-themed bar around which the story hovers. Others include: Roscoe, Zek, and Vern. Entering stage right are Jericho “Jerry” Riggs, and Floyd Loyd. The yuppie children of Cassandra’s two Jewish sisters are: Yale, Downer, Swan, Seven, Theobald, and the girls are Curtis and Micah.

To coordinate with the awful character names, Nersesian creates uninspiring characters. The protagonist is far from lovable, and even harder to like. Her epiphanies, sprinkled throughout the book, are hardly insightful and about as deep and pure as a dog bowl.

The supporting cast is your run-of-the-mill collection of rednecks: drunk, violent, drunk, and stupid. The only character of interest, a disfigured, kind man with a few secrets and surprises fails to add any air to this flat old ball of a story.

This novel, as far as I can tell, is either a brilliantly crafted joke that didn’t need to be told – a parody of a southern who-done-it – or just a book that was churned out too fast by a writer that failed to give the reader reasons to give a shit about his characters.

Arthur Nersesian is the author of nine novels, and is published by Akashic Books, which puts out some great stuff, e.g., Joe Meno. This is the first book I have read of Nersesian’s, and possibly the worst review I’ve ever written, which is fitting. I plan on reading something from Nersesian’s earlier body of work at some point. The man has a solid reputation. He must be good. There must be something in the back catalogue that’s worthy of the praise he gets.

Right?

Links:

Akashic Books: http://www.akashicbooks.com/mesopotamia.htm

For my review of Jay Ryan’s new collection of work, Animals and Objects In and Out of Water, published in Make Magazine, please go to:

http://makemag.com/review-ryan/

 About the book:
150 pages with 140 color illustrations by Jay Ryan, with a foreword by Andrew Bird and an essay by Joe Meno.
 

Links:

Akashic Books: http://www.akashicbooks.com/animalsandobjects.htm

The Bird Machine (Jay Ryan’s screenprint shop): http://www.thebirdmachine.com/

MAKE Magazine: http://makemag.com/

If the life of a band and the mood of an album can be encapsulated in one song, then “Arrived”, the lead track from Mal Madrigal’s forthcoming From the Fingers of Trees would be a fitting choice.

Electricity builds instantly from the opening cord as Spanish-style guitar gently pulls back the curtains revealing a stark, vast expanse of desert.  Gray, dirty mountains loom in the background.  Tumbleweeds and rattlesnakes enter stage left, prodded by a hollow electric guitar.  The camera pans to the right.  A village sleeps uneasy.  Smoke rises in the distance. 

Ennio Morricone is cracking his Italian knuckles somewhere, sitting on the edge of his seat.

Wispy acoustic guitar blends into rhythmic picking and strumming as the electric continues to poke.

A soft voice appears.  Drums fade in low. 

The scene builds lyrically and sonically in a pattern that will be repeated throughout the album.

The wind kicks up.  Prayers are whispered. 

Three minutes in and repeating the words “Will you arrive? Will you arrive?” the electric guitars do just that.  Like a storm rolling in across the plains, it opens up, unleashing the attack you knew was coming.  From over the hills the bandidos flood in.  Hidden soldiers are waiting for them, and a world that was quiet and eerie erupts into fire.

Lyrically, nothing like this is going on.  I’m ruining everything, I know and I’m sorry, but Mal Madrigal’s music has so many cinematic qualities you can’t help but watch the pictures that project on the screens in your mind. 

You feel this album in your stomach.  You feel this album on your scalp and on all of your little mammalian hairs as fireflies float from the speakers and descend upon you, hovering gently just above your skin.  

Diving into the lyrics you see things you weren’t picturing.  This world that spins as a CD and on vinyl is full of canyons, concealing treasures in caves and in shadows.  

The dust settles.  The camera pans away slowly.  The scene in front of you darkens.

Mal Madrigal’s From the Fingers of Trees, will be released far and wide on January 5^th, 2010.

You can pick up early copies at the release show on Saturday, December 26th at the Slowdown in Omaha. 

They will be playing this Sunday, November 22nd, at the Slowdown.

Links:

Official site: www.malmadrigal.com

myspace: www.myspace.com/malmadrigalmusic

Saddle Creek store: http://store.saddle-creek.com/Merchant2/merchant.mvc?Screen=CTGY&Store_Code=SCOS&Category_Code=Mal_Madrigal

the Slowdown: www.theslowdown.com

Let’s move forward now to Grizzly Bear’s song Ready, Able, and Allison Schulnik’s odd and incredible film set to music, formally called a music video. 

The video opens with what looks like a kneecap’s perspective of walking through a field and into a clearing.  There and then we see two multi-colored yeti-like creatures eyeing each other from across a river.  Engaged in what might be a staring contest, but probably something much more significant, one of the creatures deflates and melts into the river.  His colors begin to blend, but not in the way watercolors blend into a brown.  The colors retain their integrity for the most part as they become a part of the water. 

Did I mention that this is claymation, or some similar medium?  Did I mention that the remaining creature has three little creatures that he feeds to a fourth, iguana-like creature that then turns into something resembling a frilled lizard, or Dilophosaurus (if you prefer creatures from the Jurassic period)? 

The remaining yeti-like creature then appears to get abducted or dematerialized by an alien craft.  Similar then to what always happens following dematerialization by aliens, everything goes Technicolor.

I’m not sure what happens now, or in the two minutes that led up to now, but little heads of creatures (possibly the botched rematerialization of the larger creature) are shown on museum pedestals transforming their shapes and expressions.  These shots are mixed with clips of the same creature (maybe), (pre-abduction) and another, less yeti-like, more a sumo wrestler-like creature composed of the same genetic building blocks.

I don’t know what the video “means”.  I don’t know what the song is about, but the combination of the two elicits an emotion that feels like sadness but manifests as confusion.  This video and song stay with you.  What it is and what it means isn’t as important as what it feels like. 

It’s unfortunate that we experience things like this for the first time only the first time.  It’s difficult to process anything during the premiere.  The second time is corrupted by the experience of the first, like in Tom McCarthy’s novel, Remainder.  Reproducing something degrades it.  It never feels like it did the first time, and no amount of money or effort can change that.  A first kiss can keep you up all night contemplating levitation and other wonderfully unrealistic things.  The kiss you get at the end of the day fifteen years later is nice, but it isn’t filled with the wonder of what could be, or what could float.  Maybe it is, I don’t know.

Below is a link to the video on YouTube

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Puph1hejMQE

Below again is a link to an interview/performance from Grizzly Bear on NPR’s Sound Opinions

http://www.npr.org/rss/podcast/podcast_detail.php?siteId=6349255

Grizzly Bear website: http://grizzly-bear.net/

Allison Schulnik’s website: http://www.allisonschulnik.com/

Max, king of the Wild Things, was crowned for good reason.  He is wild, destructive and violent.  Director Spike Jones does paint a relatively clear picture of the causes of this.  Max is the modern child, I suppose.  He is isolated.  His parents have separated, apparently.  His mother has a demanding job, or perhaps a job she isn’t very good at. She has a love interest. This love interest doesn’t come off as being overjoyed at Max’s existence, let alone his presence in the house when he comes by for a quiet night with his mom.  Max’s sister (yes, in the film Max has a sister) is also the archetypal modern girl, a la Claire Danes circa My So Called Life.  Max struggles for her attention, but she, like he, has her own way of dealing with the situation.  She seems to care for Max, but again, she has her own issues she’s sorting out, possibly on the screen in some parallel universe where she meets some other wild things.

This is the setting that opens the film.  It was, to be honest, quite grueling.  It was like listening to The John Tesh Radio Show. Nothing against John Tesh, I just detest his awful show.  Here’s possibly why; I was forced for a year and some change to listen to it in a restricted, high stress environment.  I was not in prison. They don’t play The John Tesh Radio Show in prison.  If they did, and this is just my theory, the recidivism rate in this country would fall through the floor…scared straight, indeed.  My reaction to his show is probably natural.  I probably would have grown to loathe just about anything under those conditions, it just happened to be The John Tesh Radio Show.  

I am not a purest when it comes to film adaptations of books.  I won’t go on about where and how violently the film broke the books spine, so to speak. 

The film does succeed in being visually enthralling.  The sets are intricate. The “Wild Things” are flawless.  The film should receive a torrent of awards for this, but this is the only praise I can muster for it.

If anything, the film adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s story brought to my attention how troubled of a child the king of the wild things possibly is.  I wonder how much of this, if any, Sendak intended.  The book came out in 1963, decades before the diagnoses of Attention Deficit, Hyperactivity and Oppositional Defiance Disorders became as ubiquitous as Kleenex.  In the film, the Wild Things come off as manifestations of Max’s chemical, emotional or social imbalances, whatever the case may be.  Perhaps this was already apparent to everyone else, but it was an epiphany for me.  Having read the book to a sleepy child countless times, it never dawned on me. 

In my mind, the film and the book are completely separate, and they have to be. The boy in the story that I read to my son isn’t wild, destructive or violent.  He’s just a little boy that wanted to be where someone loves him best of all.

Below is a link to an interview with Maurice Sendak from NPR’s Fresh Air

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=114044628

As someone with Aspergers, Adam has a difficult time with social interactions, suffers from anxiety, and is a bit possessed with certain areas of study, astronomy in particular.  Adam works as an electrical engineer developing electronic components for toys.  His off work hours are devoted to astronomy and ‘people watching’.

Following the death of his father, Adam attaches himself to Beth, a school teacher and children’s writer.  Beth is sensitive, kind and patient.  She listens as Adam engages in his one-way conversations that broadcast his idiosyncrasies.  Soon Beth begins to discover the wonder of Adam, and develops feelings for him.  The two then begin a rather awkward but tender relationship.

The movie delves a bit into some drama involving the court trial of Beth’s father, a relatively smarmy accountant.  Some have viewed this story line as a flaw, as it takes the attention/screen time away from Adam.  What this story line does do is highlight the most isolating characteristic of those on the Autism spectrum, the difficulty of empathizing with others.  Beth’s world is rattled by her father’s fall, but all Adam can do is focus on the moving pieces of his own life.  This reality is what does the romantic side of the relationship in.

Beth’s role in Adam’s life, tragically and realistically, is one of caring social worker or therapist.  She is instrumental in helping Adam develop some desperately needed life and people skills.  She loved Adam certainly, but in the end it was what she taught him, and not Beth herself, that made the difference in Adam’s life.

Writer/director Max Mayer’s attention in the film to Adam’s passion for astronomy does a terrific job of sending the message that while truly deep relationships might be difficult for people on the Autism spectrum, developing and fostering healthy passions (unhealthy being obsessions) is certainly attainable.

As the father of a child with Autism, I hope my son can live a life that interests him; one where he can contribute some of his talents to society, and be around people that love and appreciate him.  This is the sentiment of any parent really, whether their children, to quote Adam, are NT’s (neuro-typical) or not.

A very powerful performance by Hugh Dancy, and a memorable effort from Frankie Fasion as Harlan, a mentor/guardian/friend to Adam, gives this film some weight that will hopefully be felt by a larger audience outside of those of us already touched by Autism and Aspergers.

Below is an interview with Writer/Director Max Mayer from NPR’s Fresh Air

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=111732938

Last August I saw Bon Iver headline a very short, but good set at Minneapolis’ First Avenue.  Before playing the last song of the night, Justin Vernon apologized to the full room something to the effect of, “I’m sorry. We haven’t been a band that long, and just don’t have a lot of material.” 

He’s honest, I’ll give him that.

The EP begins with Blood Bank, an excellent track that would have fit nicely on For Emma.  The familiar strumming and resonance mixes well with the narrative delivered with his usual mix of charm and vocal range.  I’m sure it has found its way onto a number of road-mixes, including some I’ve already made myself.

The second track, Beach Baby, is again set to the characteristic strumming of Vernon’s guitar and the damn near tear-jerking soulful voice that carried us all away on For Emma.  The song begins to wrap up about 1:40 in with some guitar work that’s as sad and gorgeous as his voice.  Unfortunately, the song is very short.  Regrettably, this is where the album should have ended.

Babys, the third track, feels like a nightmare inspired by a track from George Winston’s Forest album.  I’m a fan of George Winston, but not when I feel like he could have stimulated this.  The piano on this track is relentless in its repetitiveness, like a spoiled six year old hell bent on torturing his parents.  The short reprieve we get from the clanging about half way through makes its reemergence 40 some seconds later that much more brutal.

The final track, Woods, seems like the accidental recording of someone who wanted to try out some new pedal effects.  Repeating the same uninspired stanza throughout the track took me back to the third song, which I can’t bear to mention again.

All this said, I am still looking forward to Bon Iver’s sold out September 19^th show in Omaha at the Slowdown.  More so, I’m very much looking forward to a solid second album from Bon Iver.  I hope it happens soon.