The Story of Edgar Sawtelle - A Shakespearean Tragedy

I finally read The Story of Edgar Sawtelle. Calm down Suze Orman, I did not buy the book (nor did I charge an unholy number of items at the Gap Outlet last week – you weren’t there, you can’t prove anything). My dear friend and writing partner, Kris, shipped the doorstopper of a book to me all the way from Germany. God Bless her.

I think of the book as having three distinct parts. I devoured the first part. David Wroblewski develops the relationship between Edgar (a mute boy), his parents, and the fictional breed of dogs they raise and train at such a languid, pleasurable pace, I felt almost guilty reading it – it was the fictional equivalent of an expensive Cabernet and a box of dark chocolate truffles. In the second part, however, it stopped tasting so good. The language was still beautiful, but the story seemed too drawn out, and I was frustrated by Edgar’s choices. I was, again, invested at the end, but I’m afraid I binged. I gobbled it up because I had to know what happened, without considering the consequences of eating too fast. The book ended abruptly for me, and without satisfaction. I didn’t for a minute regret having spent time with it, but I was disappointed it didn’t turn out the way I wanted (kind of like stepping on the scale after the aforementioned Cabernet and chocolate). Much of the book seemed too convenient – when Edgar needs to know something, his father’s ghost shows up and tells him; when Edgar needs to know something else, the old woman in town, who just happens to have the gift of prophecy, shows him; when Edgar still is unsure, his dogs perform an act that points him to the truth. And I took issue with the characters, who struggle with choices that seemed apparent to me. Of particular note, I felt I didn’t know enough about Edgar’s uncle, Claude. There was no explanation for his truly evil behavior, and that unnerved me. Where was the character background? The Freudian analysis?

I poked around online looking for answers and I learned a hard lesson…I’M A MORON. The Story of Edgar Sawtelle has convenient plot devices, larger than life characters that make unnerving decisions, and an ending that recognizes good doesn’t always triumph because The Story of Edgar Sawtelle is a tragedy in the truest sense. The Story of Edgar Sawtelle is Hamlet. Again, I’m a Moron. Now that I know, I don’t understand how I didn’t recognize it at once (especially since, I’m ashamed to admit, I majored in Theatre with a Shakespeare emphasis – in my defense, the Bard has taken a backseat to Encyclopedia Brown and The Magic Treehouse kids these past few years). Edgar is Hamlet. Almondine, Edgar’s faithful canine companion, dismissed by Edgar in a fit of jealousy and contempt, is Ophelia (I don’t have to spell out what happens to her - like I said, it's a tragedy). Edgar is tormented by his father’s ghost. Edgar’s uncle, Claude is…Claudius. Duh. There is a reenactment of murder by poison, a death resulting from mistaken identity, and a “king” from another land coming to rule the dogs. The Sawtelle dogs are exceptional because they can make their own choices – in effect, they decide whether “to be or not to be.”

So now that I know, I can’t decide if David Wroblewski is brilliant, or a copycat. But, I will say the book makes sense now. In fact, I think I might read it again with Hamlet in mind and let myself get lost in the tragedy and dilemma facing Edgar. Like Shakespeare, the author has an exceptional command of language (though not in iambic pentameter) and I wouldn’t mind losing myself in the pages a second time. Plus, despite my initial reservations, I actually liked the dogs.

When this book is made into a movie, I hope Hollywood has the sense to cast the talented and soulful Freddie Highmore (from Finding Neverland, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and The Spiderwick Chronicles) as the soulful and conflicted Edgar. (Thank you, Kris, for the suggestion.) He was made for this role the way Johnny Depp was made to play Captain Jack, and if the movie is directed with care (I’m thinking Ron Howard or Ang Lee), I see a golden statuette recognizing his portrayal. A character actor should fill Claude’s role. I vote for someone along the lines of Neil McDonough, or that one guy who looks like a Robert Patrick/Christopher Walken hybrid after a hard day's work (can anyone help me?). Tim Roth could be exceptional, as well. Edgar’s father, Gar, doesn’t say much, and when he does speak his words are measured. I saw Tim McGraw on SNL this past weekend and, I gotta tell you, I think he could maybe make a good Gar. I haven’t seen him in any movies (Flicka and Friday Night Lights weren’t my cup of tea) so I could be waaaayyyy off base. I'm most concerned about the casting of Edgar’s mother. I can imagine some starlet trying to make this her “no, really, I’m a serious actress” movie. Trudy (as in Hamlet's mother, Queen Gertrude - sheesh) is the lone female character in the movie (besides the dogs and the prophet and the little girl in the cafe) and she needs to be strong. Maybe Ashley Judd or Sandra Bullock? And finally, there are the dogs. I picture a German Shepherd, Rottweiler, Retriever, Akita, St. Bernard, Mastiff mix—the dogs need to be big and broad-chested with intelligent eyes. And, most importantly, they must be real. Computer generated dogs will not cut it.

Three Cups of Tea...Read It!

Here's the thing about Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin . . . you just need to read it. No matter your political affiliation, religious beliefs, social status, gender, ethnicity, race, age, or favorite breakfast cereal (mine's Cheerios . . . I'm old school), it will speak to you. Within the pages of the book, "hope" and "change," which have saturated our airwaves the past two years, cease existing as words and take shape as tangible ideals.

The book is non-fiction - a true account of American Greg Mortenson's failed attempt to climb K2 and his subsequent recuperation in a remote mountain village in Pakistan, which spawned his promise to build a school for the village, and led to 15 years of single-minded devotion to educating the war-stricken and impoverished children of Pakistan and Afghanistan. I know, I know, it sounds kind of dry. But it is not. It reads less like a factual account and more like an action-packed novel with a daring protagonist who just happens to have integrity running through his veins. It's like the love-child of Into the Wild and a biography of Mother Teresa. There is enough action to induce stomach acid (falling down mountains, kidnapping by a radical sect of Pakistani militants) and sufficient facts, figures, and maps to appease a scholar. But above all, there is the story. The story of impoverished communities in the Middle East whose hospitality toward Greg made me examine my own notions of love and acceptance. The story of children, their villages and parents and siblings destroyed by years of civil conflict, foreign wars, and American missiles, who scratch figures in the dirt because they have no school but want to learn. The story of radical Madrassas sprouting up across Pakistan and Afghanistan, built with blood money, certain to educate generations in the art of terror and graduate scores of Jihadists who hate America, unless the children have the option of attending real schools. The story of Muslim leaders agreeing to educate girls, because they recognize the importance of education for the future of the individual, the nation, and the world. The story of a Pakistani girl (who, ten years ago, had never attended school) now studying to become a doctor for women. And the story of Greg Mortenson who, through sheer determination and love for humanity, began raising money, building schools, paying teachers, and otherwise attending to the real human needs of the people of Pakistan and Afghanistan. While living out of his car. The story of hope. The story of change. The story of peace.

I don't presume to know how the book will affect you. For me, it engendered many feelings. I was embarrassed that I had to keep referring to the map at the beginning of the book because I never learned Middle Eastern geography. I was ashamed that in the days after 9/11, I was scared of the turbaned men on the BART train with me--that I considered myself progressive, and yet subconsciously equated Muslim with Terrorist. I was so incredibly thankful for my life in America, for my education and my opportunities, which I admit, I've taken for granted. The book talks about teachers and children climbing a ladder to reach the second story of their school, because the stairs were bombed out. I couldn't help but think about what would happen in America. Here, parents would be outraged if their child's school didn't meet each and every building standard. Here, most kids would be thrilled if they couldn't reach their classroom. I was inspired by Greg. I believe that one person can make a difference. I was frustrated at our government's lack of humanitarian aid, but simultaneously so proud to be an American, because, as citizens, we can be a beacon of light around the world.

Greg is speaking at Chico State University in April. I'm thrilled it's already sold out (and also sad I didn't get tickets in time). I encourage you to read this book, and see him speak if he comes to your area. I worry that the subject matter of the book will put some people off - that more people would be initially interested if it was about inner-city schools in the U.S., not about the Middle East. But it is so much more than a book about the Middle East. It challenges, educates, and inspires. For me, it shifted my perception. It clearly demarcated the notions of "want" and "need." It led me to pick up trash in my neighborhood and seriously consider whether I "needed" to add another pair of jeans to my closet. Given the result of the election, I think Americans are ready to embrace a spirit of volunteerism. Even if you think are not, please, read the book. It exemplifies pioneering spirit and perseverance at its best.

Oh...and just to keep with the theme of this blog. I know of no plans to make a movie (though that would be great, because it would reach more people), but in the event a movie is made....I see Brendan Fraser as Greg Mortenson. Read the book and let me know what you think.

To learn more about Greg's foundation, the Central Asia Institute, or to make a donation, visit: http://www.ikat.org/ To learn more about Three Cups of Tea, visit: http://www.threecupsoftea.com/

The Medium

In The Year of Magical Thinking, Joan Didion eloquently and elegantly describes the time following the sudden death of her husband (writer John Dunne). When you read the book (or listen to it, in my case . . . I have a long commute), which is nothing short of unflinchingly honest and beautifully lyrical, you’re surprised by her admission that she didn’t think she could write about what she was feeling in those post-death days - those days after life changed "in the instant." Rather, she recalls thinking if only she had film and editing equipment, she could organize her thoughts and memories properly; that her particular kind of grief required image and sound—moving snapshots of a lifetime together. Of course, she did eventually write about it and the result is a type of written photo album capturing her very soul, with events and places meticulously described and feelings framed, labeled and on display. It is nothing short of gorgeous.
So on my drive to work today (on a “highway” that, I kid you not, I’ve had to stop on more than once to let chickens cross . . . we’re quite rural here in Northern California, a point Ms. Didion would no doubt appreciate, having grown up Sacramento when it was still farmland) I thought about storytelling and the various mediums through which it is achieved. And I came to a conclusion . . . the medium can make or break the story. I still have my doubts about Revolutionary Road as a movie. The book is replete with self-observation and inner dialogue. How will this translate? Will the movie have voice-over narration? Will it be Leonardo DiCaprio’s voice? If so, can he manage to remove the slight twang that accompanies so many of his spoken words (even, unfortunately, when he’s attempting a decidedly un-twang-y accent. See, Blood Diamond). As for The Year of Magical Thinking, Didion’s story is so intensely personal I can't imagine it would resonate in film quite as much as it does in print. In fact, Ms. Didion turned the book into a stage play, which is the perfect complementary medium to an intimate, one-narrator, first-person, personal tale of emotion.
But you already know that I have some concerns about turning books into movies. Here’s my epiphany for the day. Technically, it’s my second epiphany, the first being that it’s pointless to iron a linen shift and then sit in the car for an hour. In any event, here’s my on-topic epiphany. Some movies would make better books. When discussing books and movies, usually people are concerned with whether the film adaptation has been faithful to the book. But I don’t know that I’ve ever heard someone say a movie, which was not a book first, should be translated into print. But I’m saying it. And I’m giving you a stellar example. M. Night Shyamalan’s The Happening. This movie showed up in our mailbox the other night (yes, we’re a bit slow on the movie front, two small kids and all that) and I was actually fairly excited. My husband has notoriously bad taste in movies. Let me just give you one example: Dog Soldiers. Dog Soldiers, with the tagline: "Six soldiers. Full moon. No chance." Dog Soldiers, which features a scene of a man morphing into a dog, but the budget must've already been spent on that tagline, so the camera stays focused on the table while a man falls behind the table and rises back up clearly wearing not much more than a plastic dog mask you could pick up at Walgreens. After weathering Dog Soldiers, you can imagine my excitement when I opened the DVD sleeve and saw The Happening. I wouldn't say I'm a die-hard M. Night Shyamalan fan, but I enjoyed The Sixth Sense, loved Signs, and was one of few who couldn’t stop talking about the larger social message in The Village (nature or nurture in the extreme). Lady in the Water was terrible, but not Dog Soldiers terrible, so I figured the odds were on my side with The Happening. So, we watched, and I found the idea fascinating. People suddenly become confused and take their own lives in what is first considered a terrorist attack but is soon understood to be something environmental and unexplainable. In the midst of this crisis, a young married couple (an adequate Marky Mark and flat-as-pancake Zooey Deschanel), facing an unidentified marital calamity of their own, must save their lives while making sense of both their external and internal worlds. The personal parallels the world at large. The almost imperceptible change in their relationship is but a microcosm of the larger environmental change. Like I said, great idea. But I didn’t buy it. It’s as if M. had this brilliant idea and then just started shooting without working out the backstory. I know I was supposed to understand the couple’s angst and disconnect, but I had a hard time caring because the characters weren't developed. And the big secret regarding what was causing the suicides was resolved too quickly. Everything was a bit too tidy and shallow. But imagine if, instead of creating a storyboard, M. had opened a Word document and written a short story - a story exploring the impact we have on our environment, both personal and at large. A story that could, through the written word, navigate both the nuances of the protagonists’ relationship and the history of our impact on the planet. The movie wasn’t much of anything. But the story was brilliant. I think it just needed the right medium.

Dig Out Your Library Card

My friends tell me I’m optimistic to a fault sometimes. Silver linings? Shoot, the clouds above my head have platinum linings. With bling. When life hands me lemons, I’m likely to make homemade lemon tarts and distribute them to my neighbors. So, in the midst of this financial train-wreck, this market-equivalent-of-the-movie-Glitter, it should come as no surprise that I’ve found something positive. I’ve rediscovered a forgotten treasure. The local library. I’d become so accustomed to ordering books online or grabbing a couple of titles at Target or running to the big-box-book-store (say that five times fast) at lunch, that I’d been neglecting the library. Now, though, with Suze Orman and her fantastically white teeth yelling at me every other day from the TV, and food prices going up faster than Hilary Clinton's blood pressure after a Palin rally, I’m trying to tighten my belt and get what I can for free. Hence, my visit to the library this week. The library is a bit like the local outdoor market. You never know what’s going to be available. You might plan on making plum sauce for dinner, but end up serving chilled melon soup, instead. That’s what happened at the library. I wanted to check out The Story of Edgar Sawtelle. Not only were all copies checked out already, there were also over 70 hold requests in line before me. Looks like I’ll be buying the book (don’t tell Suze) if I want to read it sometime before 2010. After my initial disappointment, I remembered Revolutionary Road by Richard Yates – the 1961 book made into a film coming out this fall, starring Leo and Kate. And it was available! I have to shout out a huge thank you to the man or woman who decided to make this book into a movie. If not for your interest, I don’t know that I would have ever heard of this book, or this author. The book is a masterpiece. No wonder Yates, who never achieved huge commercial success, was known as a writer’s writer. Revolutionary Road is so….real. And it’s heartbreaking. Frank and April Wheeler’s sense of suburban suffocation and loss of self is palpable (NPR has a brilliant discussion of the book’s theme). It permeates every page. And it’s entirely relevant (and rather depressing in a “what has become of my life” sort of way). If not for the 9:00 dinners, constant drinking and smoking, and absence of cell phones, the Wheelers could be living in any number of subdivisions in any number of cities in America today. They could be your neighbors. They could be you. Yates has incredible insight – putting words to feelings that most Americans have felt, but don’t know how to articulate – like the revulsion a man sometimes feels at the sight of his children, even though he loves them; like the immense hopelessness one feels when faced with the same mundane, unimportant job every day; like the awkward tension seeping into a room when friends realize they have nothing to talk about anymore. Each character is meticulously described. And I don’t mean simply hair color and shirt style, etc. I mean I know these characters. I could tell you how they would react in any number of situations. And, more importantly, I know why they act the way they do. I have no doubt Yates created intricate biographies for each of his characters before putting pen to paper, and we, the readers, now reap the benefits of his diligence. For the movie to do the book justice, it will have to be detailed. Each word and set piece and thread of cloth must live and breathe the story (I’m thinking of The Ice Storm). If it does, I think the movie just might work. Sam Mendes is at the helm, and if past movies are any indication, he pays attention to the details - almost in a hyper-stylized way (see American Beauty; Road to Perdition). Kate Winslet could tell an entire epic with one look, so she’s a natural choice. I’m more apprehensive about Leo. Frank Wheeler is the cornerstone of the book – he must be perfect for Yates’s vision of American disillusionment to come across. My fingers are crossed that he pulls it off. In any event, though, I’m thankful the movie was made, because it will introduce an entirely new generation to this book. And we have much to gain. As do our therapists.

All Hail The Magical Tights

It's 65 degrees and raining! Clearly, my tights have magical powers.

Wake Up Mother Nature!

I’m wearing tights today for the first time in, oh, nearly half a year. Sure, it’s supposed to hit 93 degrees today in Northern California, but that’s not stopping my homage (or at least my legs’ homage) to Fall. I think maybe Mother Nature’s still reeling from the summer of fires, storms, earthquakes, and hurricanes (and let’s not forget the biggest natural disaster, Madonna dating A-Rod) and has forgotten to usher in Autumn (either that or she drank too many beers at Father Time’s Labor Day party and hasn’t yet recovered). Even the campaign signs in my neighborhood (popping up at such a rate that I wonder if, like Gremlins, they multiply when doused by the lawn sprinklers) and pumpkin-shaped peeps on the grocery store shelves haven’t prompted her to cool things down, so I figured I’d break out the tights and do my part. Fall is my favorite season. The kids are back in school, my lawn turns green again, my cat starts growing back his fur, and I can begin forgetting the magnitude of the SF Giants’ failure. What’s more, I can look forward to the Fall Movie Season. This Fall, theatres will show no fewer than 11 movies based on books. Here’s a quick list of the movies and my initial thoughts (warning: approaching stream of conscious, river of uninformed first impressions, and rapids of unrelated opinions):

Appaloosa – Entertainment Weekly describes the two main characters as “laconic.” I had to look it up. It means “using few words.” So the two main characters are men of few words. In a Western? Shocking. When was the last time you saw a Western with a couple of chatty Cathys? The movie could prove a lesson in subtlety, though, given the two fabulous, understated actors playing the leads – Viggo Mortensen and Ed Harris. But wait…scratch that…Renee Zellweger is in it, too. So much for subtlety.

The Duchess – Thankfully, it’s not a Fergie documentary, but a movie based on the book Georgiana, Duchess of Devonshire by Amanda Foreman and starring Keira Knightley. I haven’t decided if I think Keira Knightley is a great actress, a good actress, or just adept at choosing the right scripts, but I have a feeling I’m going to love this movie. Corsets + Ralph Fiennes (or any member of the Fiennes family, for that matter) – my husband grumbling in the seat next to me + smuggled Junior Mints = an enjoyable movie experience. I haven’t read the true-life tale, but Knightley’s last turn in a page to screen story (Atonement) was riveting.

Blindness – The ads made me think of Children of Men, but that’s probably due to Julianne Moore’s presence and the post-apocalyptic look of the sets. I’m interested in the fact that the characters in the book don’t have proper names, just descriptions (i.e. Girl With the Dark Glasses). In fact (get ready for a shameless plug), my friend and I recently wrote a novel using the same device…and if you’d like to read more about our characters (The Pecker, Babies Don’t Spit Up, Sweat Rings and Man Slippers), head on over to http://www.fictionlimbo.blogspot.com/. I feel a tad dirty now . . .

What Just Happened – I know nothing about this film except that it’s a Hollywood satire, adapted from a book, starring a mess of people (Robert De Niro, Sean Penn, Bruce Willis, Catherine Keener, Robin Wright Penn). Never heard of the book, barely heard of the movie, but De Niro as a producer doesn’t seem like terrible casting.

The Secret Life of Bees - Can I just tell you how irritated I am that I used my “internet buzz” metaphor already . . . I should have planned better. In any event, I LOVE this book. I LOVE this book so much that I read all the book club questions at the end and had a little schizophrenic conversation with myself about plot and character development alone in my bed around 2 a.m. (Sue Monk Kidd’s second book, The Mermaid Chair, however, was a colossal disappointment. Truly a book to cast away.) I think Dakota Fanning is great casting, as is Paul Bettany as the abusive father, and Queen Latifah as the leader of the bee farm sisters. I’m on the fence about Jennifer Hudson as the nanny, though. I don’t think she’s old enough, but, then again, I don’t remember how old the character was supposed to be in the book. I guess she always seemed tired so I pictured her older. And, I’m not sure J. Hud can pull it off. Sure, she was fantastic and deep and moving in Dreamgirls, but she was singing 90% of the time. Would her “I’m Not Going” Oscar moment have been as emotional if she’d had to deliver it as a monologue? Does she have what it takes? Her superfluous role in Sex and the City sheds no light on the question. I’m a huge Hudson fan – I have been since the American Idol days, agreeing with Quentin Tarantino when he called her Un-Bleepin’-Believable (or was it Fan-Bleepin’-Tastic?)—so I’d like to see her shine. I will definitely go see this movie (again, without my husband).

High School Musical 3: Senior Year – Based on the acclaimed novel of the same name, this much-anticipated third installment of the never-stale franchise . . . just checking to see if you’re paying attention.

Quantum of Solace – Technically, I don’t think this, the latest Bond flick, was adapted directly from a book. Of course, the 007 character was Ian Fleming’s literary creation so, in a sense, all Bond films are adapted from a book. Quantum of Solace is the name of an Ian Fleming short story, but I don’t believe the movie is based on the story—I think the title was just hijacked. (It’s entirely possible I could be wrong, but I’m too tired to look it up right now…) A couple of thoughts run through my head when I think about this movie. First, Daniel Craig looks like the adult version of my seven-year-old nephew, which is a bit disturbing because I find Daniel Craig delectable in a rather inappropriate way. Second, I used to see the Bond movies for free when I was in law school because one of my fellow students was the daughter of the producer . . . I miss law school . . . I miss school . . . I wish I didn’t have to work . . .

The Road – The Road comes out the day before my husband’s birthday. We both loved the book (and you know how I feel about the casting) so I expect we’ll see it opening night. And then we’ll mainline some Prozac and hold our children tight until the nightmares cease.

Marley & Me – Blech. It’s a Dooooooggggggggggg Movie. Based on a Dooooooooggggggggg Book (I’m not a fan, generally). Starring Rachel Green--I mean Jennifer Aniston--Owen Wilson, and a Dooooooooogggggggg. And the trailer shows all three running on a beach. In slow motion. I have nothing else to say.

Twilight – I haven’t read the books so I’m scared to say anything, for fear a bunch of tweens will come and put a stake through my heart. But I am nervous for the filmmakers - vampire movies are hard to cast – remember the uproar surrounding Tom Cruise as Lestat in Anne Rice’s Interview With A Vampire?

The Curious Case of Benjamin Button – This movie, based on the short story by F. Scott Fitzgerald, sounds terribly interesting. It’s about a man aging in reverse. And I wager even Brad Pitt cannot ruin the movie, because it also casts the celestial Cate Blanchett and riveting Tilda Swinton (although The Talented Mr. Ripley was all sorts of awful and it had a stellar cast). Ooh, I can’t wait to see the two of them at all the premieres, interviews, and awards shows. Cate with her fickle sense of style and Tilda with her, well, how would you describe these ensembles? I love these women!

Revolutionary Road – The first pairing of Kate Winslet and Leonardo DiCaprio since . . .since . . . what was that movie? Kate Winslet betters every film she’s in. I sat next to Leonardo DiCaprio at Fixx in Vegas. He’s quite tall and manly in person. And Fixx has the most delicious fried macaroni and cheese and crusted mashed potatoes. This has nothing to do with the movie, just thought I’d share. I’m going to pick up this 1961 book by Richard Yates, described as a “cautionary tale . . . full of big ideas that question the viability of the American dream.” Quite a pertinent topic 47 years later. Let’s hope it translates to the big screen.

Happy reading and/or viewing!

Goodbye Mr. Newman

I’m certain I can’t add anything new to the Paul Newman conversation. And yet, I feel compelled to interrupt regularly scheduled blogging to make note of his passing. My world stopped for a moment when I heard of his death. I was at a park decorating for my son’s birthday party when my BlackBerry buzzed. I scrolled through my email while scattering confetti, and opened a message from one of my closest friends. The first line read, “There’s something about Paul Newman dying that’s very very sad to me.” Until then, I didn’t know he’d died, as I’d been devoted to cupcakes and treasure hunts for the previous 24 hours. The news winded me. It’s strange, really. I didn’t know him. I haven’t seen all his movies. I don’t even use his salad dressing. Still, I echo my friend’s sentiment that a world without him feels . . . different somehow.

Books Are Going To The Dogs

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you’ve probably heard Oprah announced her (adopt a loud, deep, excited voice and show the whites of your eyes) NEW BOOK CLUB PICK! It’s The Story of Edgar Sawtelle by David Wroblewski. Oprah’s site describes the book as an “epic” novel about the “kinship between people and dogs.” Today I received an e-mail from Oprah, commanding me to “Show Us Your Sawtelle Dog!” The e-mail goes on to explain, “Author David Wroblewski wants you to create your own image of a Sawtelle dog so much that he won't even reveal what breed his own dog is! So, what does a Sawtelle dog look like to you? Is your dog one?” Apparently, “for generations, the Sawtelles have raised and trained a fictional breed of dogs,” described as having a “thoughtful presence.” I admit, I haven’t read the book. Ok, I admit I haven’t even bought the book. I’m still consumed entirely by I, Elizabeth (the English have won the war against Spain and now Elizabeth can concern herself with more domestic affairs, like executing those who don’t ask her permission before marrying. And she's getting old, so now I've started picturing Judi Dench. Go figure.). I admit I tend to cringe when faced with the prospect of settling in with a “dog” book. Ever since I had my first bout of deep depression after reading Where The Red Fern Grows, I’ve steered clear of the canine literary genre. I will read this book, though, if only because the entire world will be talking about it and I’d like to join that conversation. For the time being, however, having not read the book, I can’t say what a “Sawtelle dog” looks like to me (so, in an act of doggie-owner narcissism, I've posted a photo of my Husky, Misha). But I am interested in the question itself. No doubt this book will be made into a movie (first-time author, Oprah stamp of approval, animals and kids . . . I’m sure a script is already in the works). And if the breed of the dog is not revealed in the book, what kind of dog will be used in the movie? Dollars to doughnuts whatever breed is picked, people will be disappointed, having already created their own vision.

Cast Away

My older son is learning about homophones—words with the same sound but different meanings. What word describes both a shiny object you wear on your finger and the sound a bell makes? Ring. What refers to both a drink and the last name of a fool-pitying, gold-chain wearing, Rocky-punching, over-exposed 80’s cliché? Tea/T. You get the idea. So, it occurred to me as I was helping him with his homework, that the word “cast” has multiple meanings. According to dictionary.com, it means, inter alia (sorry, that’s a fancy schmancy law school Latin phrase for “among other things” that has become part of my lexicon): (1) to throw off or away; and (2) to allot a role to (an actor). When I started this blog, I intended to discuss the intersection of movies and books. “Cast” in “Cast That Book” carried the second meaning. But a book I recently finished has prompted me to explore the first meaning . . . to throw off or away. I’ve read a number of books over the years that I wanted to “cast” into the trash can, off my bedside table, out the window of a moving train. Lately, I’ve been lucky in my literary explorations; maybe because I tend to read books recommended by trusted friends or reviewers. I also feel safe dipping back into the well of an author I know and love, an author who has proved himself or herself to me before, an author like Pat Conroy or John Irving or Amy Tan or Barbara Kingsolver or…usually…Isabel Allende. Oh Senora Allende, how it pains me to complain about one of your books, especially after recently spending a glorious week immersed in Zorro. But complain I must. I just finished Portrait in Sepia, the companion book to the marvelous novel, Daughter of Fortune . . . and it was . . .uh . . . not good. That’s harsh, I know. I originally wrote, “and I didn’t enjoy it,” but that’s not accurate. I’ve “not enjoyed” my fair share of books, but still appreciated and even recommended them. Pillars of the Earth, in all its paternalistic and violent glory, comes immediately to mind. Portrait in Sepia, on the other hand, felt lazy and chaotic, the literary equivalent to making an entire second movie out of deleted scenes. It’s a slim novel by Allende standards, and yet it never seemed to end. I didn’t identify with any of the characters (thrown together like reheated leftovers), because none of them had a strong voice…even the narrator. In fact, the narrator was . . .well . . . boring. She was a witness to murder, orphaned, and stuck in a loveless marriage and yet . . . boring. She didn’t move the story forward; rather, the story happened to and around her. Further, the translation seemed clumsy. (The only good parts were, well, the “good” parts, if ya know what I mean….Allende knows her way around a fictional bedroom). Had I read this book first, I’m not sure I would have picked up another Allende novel, which would have been a travesty. If you are new to Allende, please, cast this book aside and pick up another (Daughter of Fortune, Zorro, House of Spirits). You’ll thank me.

Back On My Soapbox

Gwyneth Paltrow was on Oprah yesterday. She's got a smokin' post-baby body that she actually admits working hard for (2 hours a day, 6 days a week). She's got mid-length shiny blond hair, an infectious smile, warm eyes, and a calm yet energetic presence. And she loves good food. I ask you, my friends, why isn't she playing Elizabeth Gilbert in the screen adaptation of Eat Pray Love?! Don't get me started....

God Save The Queen Blanchett

I’m knee deep in I, Elizabeth by Rosalind Miles . . . which is to say I’m 280 pages into the hefty tome. I cannot put it down, not for yoga, not for movies, not for a walk with the dog. (I will not set it down in the house; I would not drop it for a mouse…) I might be enticed to set it aside if Colin Farrell showed up in my bedroom, just maybe. It isn’t simply that the book is interesting and beautifully written…it’s also that if I put it down for more than a day, I will have to start over. There are scads of Lords and Ladies and Duchesses and Dukes and Earls and Queens and Dowager Queens and Lord Protectors and Council members, and if I don’t sit court with them daily, I will forget who they are and why they’re important. To make matters even more difficult, as their positions change, so do their names. An Earl of Sussex or Essex or Fed-Ex named Bob might become Duke Wellington or Colonel Sanders overnight. This can get terribly confusing, especially for me, who for years thought John F. Kennedy and Jack Kennedy were two different people. I’m not so good with names. Thank goodness Miles includes a family tree at the beginning of the book. Above all the identity-shifting power grabbers, however, Elizabeth (whose name changes, as well, from heir to bastard to most honored sister, etc.) rises and shines. She is interesting and smart and beautiful and savvy. She has a knack for self-preservation that modern politicians can only dream of. And she looks like Cate Blanchett. At least in my head, she does. I saw the movie Elizabeth only once, right after I took the bar exam. As you can imagine, I was a little loopy, and the details of the movie didn’t stick with me, stuffed as my head was with the rule against perpetuities and exceptions to the statute of frauds. But apparently Cate’s performance made an impression. I haven’t thought about it in years, but as soon as I started reading I, Elizabeth, I pictured Cate Blanchett as the fair virgin Queen. Perhaps because she, too, is smart and beautiful and savvy. I applaud you, Ms. Blanchett, for embodying the role in such an indelible manner.

Perfection

Wow...I feel like it's been an eternity since I last wrote. In my defense, my 5 year old son broke his arm a couple of weeks ago and we've all been adjusting. He's in a hard cast, now, so I don't feel like I have to follow him around and shield his soft splint with my body. In fact, the cast is proving so durable, I wonder whether we should, as a prophylactic measure, cast all children's arms, legs and foreheads until they're about 7 years old and understand some basic things...like the laws of gravity, cause and effect, and corresponding action/reaction. Yes, I tend to be a bit overprotective of my children. I can't imagine what it would be like to try and protect my son as one of the last persons left on Earth after an apocalyptic event, like the father in Cormac McCarthy's Pulitzer prize-winning novel, The Road. (See how I worked that segue?)

I read The Road earlier this summer, and I still find myself moved by it. I admit, I haven't read McCarthy's other books, so I don't know if all his writing is like this, but I was blown away by his stark prose. The language itself mirrored the landscape in the novel. And never before has the word "okay" been weighted with so much meaning. In case you don't know, The Road follows a father and son as they travel to the coast through the charred country, hoping to find food, redemption, some sign of goodness... The world is covered in ash, the sun doesn't shine, and there are roving bands of cannibals. (McCarthy never says what caused the apocalypse because it doesn't really matter, but I picture a meteor collision, like the one that did in the dinosaurs.) The father's lungs are giving out, but he presses on, teaching his son to be the keeper of the fire...the fire representing the goodness of humanity. They don't say much to each other, but their affection for one another is apparent, as is the father's single-minded desire to provide for his child and keep him safe, while also instilling in him a sense of dignity and honor. He wants everything for his son that I want for my sons, just pared down to the minimum for survival. He's not concerned that the boy play nice on the playground, make the right kind of friends, or eat enough broccoli--he's concerned that the boy not get roasted over a spit, take a human life, or starve to death. I could write an entire thesis on this book.

I'm not sure that I pictured the father and son as I was reading, but somewhere around the end of the book, I got it in my head that George Clooney had signed on to play the father. I was convinced I was right. And I wasn't upset. I thought, "I could see that. He'll need to dirty himself up a bit, but maybe this is his Oscar role . . . something to appeal to his intellectual side before he loses more brain cells in Ocean's Infinity." I think I may have even told people Mr. Clooney had signed on. He hadn't. I'm not sure he was even mentioned for the role. Where did I come up with that? I'm blaming it on the go fug girls, who mention their "intern George" so often he permeates my thoughts (although I suppose if I didn't refresh their blog approximately once every 37 minutes, maybe it would help). The point is, George Clooney is not playing the father. Instead, it's the best casting I can imagine...Viggo Mortensen. I'm so excited - though I'm not sure excitement is the proper emotion for a post-apocalyptic roving-cannibals film. But can't you just see it? One of the most still, present actors of our time in a stark, bleak drama with little dialogue...it's perfect. Think about it...he's played a quiet wanderer in charge of small ones before...a Ranger to be precise . . . and the result was Middle Earth nirvana.

Whoever cast him, give yourself a pat on the back. Was it you, Mr. Clooney?

Bizarro World

Oh Joan Allen, how I love thee. You are talented and beautiful and poised, and I suspect you can both solve trigonometry problems in your head and prepare roasted goose from scratch. So why, pray tell, are you appearing in Death Race as a warden running the "worst and toughest for-profit prison in the country" where your claim to fame is creating "the country's most popular pay-per-view sport, a kill-or-be-killed car race where the inmates race to win their freedom from prison after 5 wins?" Why? Did you lose a drinking game with your agent? Was the contract for Death Race erroneously attached to the end of the script for The Bourne Complacency (in which Jason Bourne decides he's tired of running and settles down in the suburbs, only to fight a nasty invasion of crab grass)? Why aren't you playing Mrs. Fitzgerald in My Sister's Keeper? There is no Upside to my Anger. I am no longer in Pleasantville. Maybe you could jump into one of those monster vehicles from Death Race and barrell your way into the set of My Sister's Keeper and wrench the role away from Cameron Diaz. Now that's something I'd like to see.

Little House On The Plasma

I just finished writing a guest blog for a friend of mine. Her blog's all about children's books (www.funbooksforkids.blogspot.com) and, in the process of picking a children's book to write about, I started thinking about my favorite books as a child. Among them were Boxcar Children, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of Nimh, the C.S. Lewis books, and A Wrinkle in Time. But, hands down, my clear favorite were the Laura Ingalls Wilder books. In fact, just a couple of years ago when we finally moved into our permanent home (one can hope...we had moved 13 times in 10 years up to that point. so far, so good...), I unpacked some boxes that had been in storage for nearly a decade, and found the entire Laura Ingalls Wilder series. I did what any self-respecting 32 year old woman would do...I read them in order over the next three days. If you read the books as a child and haven't revisited them as an adult, I encourage you to do so. As a little girl, I was awed and inspired by the adventure and Laura's pioneer spirit (and more than a little proud that my name was Laura, too). As a mother, the books made me tired for poor Ma Ingalls. I was aware of how much work it took just to put food on the table and a roof over their heads. I noticed the discrepancy in class between the settler Ingalls and the farmer Wilders - I wonder if Almanzo's mom thought he was marrying beneath him. And I felt a little ashamed at how wasteful we've become....for goodness sakes, when Pa butchered a hog, they used every part, even playing ball with the inflated bladder.

But this isn't about the Shakespearean undertones of the Wilder/Ingalls union, Pa's fiddle, or pig organs. It's about the fact that not once when I reread the books did I picture Melissa Gilbert or Michael Landon. Perhaps that's because I read the books before I ever saw the television program. Our house wasn't a big TV house when I was growing up (the two exceptions being That's Incredible! and The Cosby Show). I remember sitting in my friend Sandy's living room after gymnastics practice and Sandy's mom turned on Little House on the Prairie. I was confused at first. Why didn't the show start with Little House in the Big Woods? Why were there story lines that I didn't remember from the books? But then I became interested and, I dare say, addicted to the show. I don't think I missed an episode. But even though I knew the show was based on the books, I was able to separate the characters in print from the characters on the small screen. Michael Landon was a great Pa, but the book Pa was shorter and stockier and far more rugged, with mountain man hair and strong arms. It was the same for the other characters, save Nellie, who was played to print-perfection by Alison Arngrim.

I have to wonder (oh my goodness, that sounds sooooo Carrie Bradshaw, doesn't it?), am I part of the last generation that can separate print and screen? Successful children's books are made into movies so quickly these days the literary imagination barely has time to spark. And it seems like older books are turning into film by the ten-fold. Will my kids, for example, have the ability to picture anyone but Daniel Radcliffe when they read Harry Potter? Will Narnia's White Witch be forever associated with the incomparable Tilda Swinton? When Horton Hears A Who, will children hear only Jim Carrey? By the time my kids are able to read these books, chances are they will have already been saturated by movies, ads, plastic fast-food toy tie-ins, revised book covers, t-shirts, and video games. There's nothing wrong with turning a good book into a good film . . . I just wonder how it changes the reading experience in the first place . . .

My Sister's Keeper Stars One Of Charlie's Angels? Huh?

There's a fair amount of internet buzz surrounding the casting of Cameron Diaz in the movie adaptation of Jodi Picoult's My Sister's Keeper. And the bees are angry. She's too young appears to be the collective refrain emanating from the hive. Let me add my voice to the drones. I just finished the book and can't stop thinking about it. If you haven't read it, stop pretending to work, walk away from the computer, and RUN to Barnes and Noble or your local library. If you're punching a clock and can't leave, get thee to Amazon now. Do not pass go. I promise your boss isn't looking.

I didn't know until today a movie was in the works. I was taking a break between reading legal briefs today, and visited La Picoult's website (which is fabulous, by the way - she's witty and real) because I couldn't get the book out of my head (if you've read it, you understand. if you haven't, GO READ IT!). The site had a one sentence blurb encouraging me to watch for the film, starring Cameron Diaz. My thoughts went something like this:
Cameron Diaz? She's way too old to play one of the daughters. Girlfriend is cute and perky, but even surfing every day can't make her look 16, especially without the Timberlake arm candy. I wonder how much fat is in this giant plate of peanut butter crackers I just made? Crunch, crunch - gasp - cough cough cough - she couldn't be playing the mom, Sara, could she? No, there's no way. She's too young. She's too cute and perky. I've lost my appetite. Might as well go back to legal briefs. Oh, wait a minute. She must be playing Julia, the young-ish guardian ad litem who used to have pink hair and falls in love with the snarky lawyer. The world makes sense now. Mmmm...peanut butter straight from the jar is dee-lish.
And then I ruined a perfectly lovely day. I mosied on over to the nice people at http://www.imdb.com/ and there it was. Cameron Diaz as Sara Fitzgerald with Jersey hair. Apparently Joan Cusack is part of the cast, too, but her role isn't listed. She's up near the top, though, so I presume maybe she's playing Julia? Joan Cusack is fantabulous, but she's too old for Julia. These two ladies should do a Freaky-Friday switcheroo and make everyone happy. Joan has the gravitas to play Sara Fitzgerald, and it's high time she sunk her teeth into a complicated role. Let me be clear - Cameron is not a bad actress. I rather like her (though I'm starting to wonder if her booty has it's own pay or play contract - it finds a way to shake or dance in every flippin' film it's in....) - but she's not right for the role. There's the age issue, but there's more. Sara is not cute or perky...Sara is a devastated mother faced with hard choices and, frankly, not entirely sympathetic. I found myself angry at her during much of the book, and that's not an emotion I generally associate with Cameron. Sally Field would have been perfect in her day. Or Meryl Streep (oooh, I got goosebumps just thinking about that). Also, I'm not sure the role can or should be played by anyone who has not birthed or adopted a child. No amount of research can prepare you for the feeling of motherhood - for the pain and joy of wearing your heart outside your chest.

Cameron may surprise us all. She may pull it off and establish herself as a "serious" actress, but much like the Olympian I'm watching as I type this...she has some big hurdles to clear.

Oh, and p.s. - in case you're jonesing for my thoughts on the rest of the cast...Abigail Breslin as Anna seems okay, I guess. I've only seen her in Little Miss Sunshine, but I thought she was pretty good (the movie, on the other hand was overrated - the "little indie that could" of that particular year . . . ). Alec Baldwin as the snarky lawyer, Campbell, is a perfect fit....10 years ago. Jason Patric as Brian Fitzgerald, as the anchor, the most understated, heartbreaking character in the book....I'm somewhat ambivalent. I don't think he's perfect, but the choice doesn't send me into fits of rage. However, Jeffrey Dean Morgan (Denny Duquette from Grey's Anatomy) as Brian would be, in a word, divine.

Eat Pray Love The Movie

I read a piece in Variety a few months ago that prompted me to send a flurry of emails to my best girlfriends, subject line "WTF?!" I'd had that feeling before, like when I learned Pirate's Booty snacks weren't fat free, or my husband washed and dried my new sweater, creating a cozy little cover-up that would fit the cat. Utter dismay. The article was about Ms. Hollywood herself, Phinnaeas and Hazel's mom (and the third one...Henry?), the ex-Mrs. Lovett...Julia Roberts. She of the thousand-watt smile either had signed on or was talking about or had optioned the rights to play Elizabeth Gilbert in the movie adaptation of Gilbert's book, Eat Pray Love (Sorry, I'm a bit sketchy on the details - I think I may have had a mini-stroke after reading the news). I'll admit, I'm a tad obsessed with with Eat Pray Love and all things Lizzie G. Her Oprah episodes are permanent fixtures on my TIVO, I've read and reread and dog-eared and underlined the book. I continue to listen to the book over and over on cd (narrated by Lizzie G. herself, no less), and I bought a copy for every single one of my friends at Christmas. I even gave them out as prizes at Bunco. I stalk people in Barnes and Noble who I see considering the book, touching them on the arm and saying things like, "it will change your life," and "I wasn't complete until I read this book." I buy extra copies every time Costco restocks, just in case....I consider it an emergency reserve for my soul.



It never occurred to me that it would be made into a movie. It's a "feel" book, not a "plot" book, so it doesn't seem like movie material. I often read books and picture the movie version. Some books scream "make me into a film!" from the moment you open then, almost as if the author was simultaneously drafting the first chapter and crafting a mesmerizing opening shot. A few come to mind...Memoirs of a Geisha, Angels and Demons and it's slightly less attractive twin The Da Vinci Code, most books by Jodi Picoult. Other books are so beautiful on the page that translation the multi-plex destroys their literary heart. Case in point, Simon Birch, the movie version of A Prayer for Owen Meany. I was wary when I first heard it was being made. Then when Ashley Judd signed on to play the mother, I thought the casting was just about right, so maybe they'd get the movie right, too. Then I saw it. Ugh. John Irving should have a standing restraining order against anyone connected to Hollywood. Oliver Platt...really? (And lest anyone point this out to me, yes, I know the Cider House Rules movie was actually very well done....)



But let's save the John Irving discussion for another day and think about this Eat Pray Love casting news. So it's going to be a movie...fine. But I cannot wrap my head around Miss "I'm just a girl, standing in front of a boy" playing Lizzie G. Now, the Pretty Woman is talented, I'll give you that, and she certainly has her place in Hollywood...but that place is behind the Mystic Pizza counter or in a bathroom stall at her Best Friend's Wedding or on Hollywood Boulevard in a platinum wig and a micro-mini attached to her tank top by those metal rings my kids use to hold together their math flashcards. Yes, she was good in that movie where she used her boobs to save all those people from contaminated water. (We could have a heated discussion about whether the performance was Oscar-worthy...) But as Lizzie G? As the woman who traveled to three countries to find herself and inspired a revolution of consciousness among women? I don't see it. I can't get past the hair and the teeth and the infectious laugh. Julia plays parts well, but she is still Julia....I find myself watching her and thinking, "wow, Julia's doing a good job in that role," but I don't suspend disbelief and let her become the character. Maybe she's too big a star - too much a marquee name for this type of role. I'd prefer to see a newcomer, an unknown play Lizzie G. But, if that's not possible, then a star with an inner radiance...an inner quality that seeps out...a calm, a peace, an innate Lizzie-ness. And a sense of malleability. The always wonderful Kate Winslet could do a great job. She's on my short list of actors who can make any movie better merely by their presence (see, also, Ed Norton, Daniel Day-Lewis). And I'm probably going to divide people on this one, because she's a love her or hate her kind of woman, but I'm going to go out on a limb and say Gwyneth Paltrow would be lovely. She even looks a bit like Lizzie G., and she's stayed out of the spotlight enough that I don't associate her with any "type" of character. And we all know from that ill-timed picture of her back with the marks from cupping that she, like Lizzie G, explores new frontiers and doesn't stay safely in the mainstream. It would also be a great role for an actor from back in the day. Sort of a reinvention a la John Travolta in Pulp Fiction. How about Elisabeth Shue? Leaving Las Vegas showed us she can act, and she has a softness about her that would complement the story. But Julia Roberts? Do we not remember the debacle that transpired the last time Hollywood paired her with high-profile material (the material, in this case, being Brad Pitt)? I don't want Eat Pray Love the movie to go the way of The Mexican.



And Julia's casting raises another concern...with the Runaway Bride in the lead, who would play the other roles? What about her older lover, Felipe, (now her husband, by the by, for anyone who didn't see Lizzie G. on Oprah)? We're talking about the man who folded and unfolded her, told her she was beautiful over and over again, and to whom she finally opened up after a year of devastation, rebirth and self-realization. I almost can't say it out loud, but what if...good Lord...it's Richard Gere? It just wouldn't work. I never pictured Felipe squinting at Lizzie G. as if he's constipated, while loudly nose breathing. Maybe Liam Neeson could play Felipe, or Peter Skaarsgard, or one of my favorite underused actors, Patrick Stewart (my husband says I have an unnatural attraction to Captain Picard, but that's beside the point...). But I'm afraid that won't happen, because Hollywood will feel the need to make him "pretty."

And the others? Salma Hayak as Wayan the exotic healer? John Goodman as Richard from Texas? The guy from the Mac commercials as her young Indonesian guitar-playing friend Yudhi? Oh, the possibilities are depressing.

So, yea, I'm not all that excited about the woman who played (everyone, in a creepy whisper, now) Mary Reilly stepping into Lizzie G's shoes. But I am thankful for one thing...at least it's not Katherine Heigl.