December 2003 Archives

Happy Holidays, all! Hanukkah's a-comin', and will be well under way before I write in this journal again, in all probability, though I hope to get in another entry by Christmas.

(By the way, if you're looking for Hanukkah/Xmas gifts and haven't checked in here in a while, scroll down and click on some of the books listed below.)

By way of a gift, allow me to pass along to you a little something I cooked up a couple of years ago: the original version of a section from Chapter 8 of The Verb 'To Bird', "An Owl for the Moping." My rant on the subject of animated Christmas specials was originally presented in somewhat more depth, but my editor, the eagle-eyed and savvy John Corenswet, convinced me that it took an even more-roundabout-than-usual route to my point, and would therefore only serve to cause confusion. He was right, but I hated to make the cuts. I'm cheered, however, by the fact that I can present the original version--the demo version, if you like--of the section for you here. Enjoy!


Yes, dammit, we're Americans, and as a result, even our most basic family rites revolve around that glowing box in the living room that Chris Van Allsburg so aptly represented as "the Wretched Stone." It's not Christmas unless we get to watch our Christmas Specials on television.

Some, admittedly, are more wretched than others. Frosty the Snowman, never a favorite in my childhood, has only become more annoying as I've grown up. It's tough to make a good thirty-minute show out of a two-minute song, sure, but instead of adding material, Frosty tries to get by with repetitive animation, repetitive jokes, and a plot that isn't even as complex as most Road Runner cartoons.

What makes Frosty's failure even more galling is that its producers, Rankin-Bass, had done it right only a few years before with Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Both follow the same formula:

Step 1) Select popular Christmas carol. Let's note that "Frosty" really isn't a carol; in terms of Christian significance, it makes "Rudolph" looks like Handel's Messiah. The song has nothing to do with Christmas whatsoever, unless you want to see Frosty as an allegorical Christ-figure, in whom only those who come to him as children can believe. You can argue that this parallel is extended when he symbolically accepts the cup that is set before him by saying that his followers must enjoy his presence "before I melt away," and when he refuses to compromise his principles as he leads his flock through the town, only to be accosted by the unbelievers and minor officials of the region; you can also argue for a certain Christian symbolism in his departure and his promise to "be back again someday." You can argue all that, but why would you want to?

Step 2) Sign up celebrity narrator. Frosty gets Jimmy Durante, Rudolph gets Burl Ives. In another context, I might prefer Jimmy over Burl, but as a children's singer/storyteller, I've certainly got to give Burl the nod here.

Step 3) Add characters to extend the carol's basic storyline. Rudolph pulls out all the stops here: we meet Rudolph's family, the whole reindeer community (including Clarice, the love interest), Santa and his wife, Hermie the wanna-be dentist and the other elves, prospector Yukon Cornelius, the Abominable Snow-Monster, and King Moonraiser and his entire island of Misfit Toys.

Honestly, I think the whole "misfit toy" thing is pretty ridiculous, and it's partly for ornithological reasons. One birdlike toy complains, "How'd you like to be a Bird That Can't Fly? I swim," and leaps into a fishbowl to demonstrate. Well, what's wrong with that? Isn't it normal for some birds? Penguins, say? Plenty of birds are more able in the water than on land--loons and ducks, in particular. The Ruddy Duck is flat-out unable to walk, but it swims perfectly well, and I dare say other birds (like grebes or anhingas) are more at home in the water than in the air, too. After all, you can float without a lot of effort, but staying aloft requires some serious energy expenditures. The Bird That Can't Fly is no misfit.

In fact, none of these toys are misfits. Out of the whole bunch, the only one I feel even remotely sorry for is the Boat That Can't Stay Afloat--that's a significant hindrance to a toy boat's raison d'etre, no question there, but it can probably be fixed with a cork and a little Krazy Glue. Everybody else on the Island of Misfit Toys is just a garden-variety whiner, complaining about problems that are both trivial and laughably easy to solve.

The misnomer-burdened "Charlie"-in-the-Box can change his name with a simple form or two, or just go by a nickname--he doesn't really even need to make a legal change--and he'll still spring out of his box regardless. The Choo-Choo with Square Wheels on his Caboose should consider that a caboose is detachable, or even replaceable; it's not like a vestigial tail. Similarly, the Water Pistol That Shoots Jelly will only shoot jelly if you fill it up with jelly, and who'd be stupid enough to keep doing that? GIGO, man, it's a basic principle. The Polka-Dot Elephant should say it now and say it loud, "I'm Polka-Dot and I'm proud." (Is this show intended to make kids insecure about their physical traits, or what?) And unless the Cowboy Who Rides an Ostrich has been stapled to his mount, he can damn well climb off it and find a horse. Frankly, I think the main reason these toys haven't been accepted in the past isn't that they're misfits--it's that they're too bloody stupid.

Other than the malcontents above, though, Rudolph's newcomers are fairly interesting. Frosty, on the other hand, adds only a few characters to the song's cast: an annoying "evil" magician, a surly rabbit who mimes everything he wants to communicate, a bunch of interchangeable moppets, and Karen, a too-cute kid for whom Frosty gladly sacrifices himself, only to rise again from the dead when--hmm. Maybe the Christian allegory isn't so far-fetched after all...

Step 4) Add songs. Here's where Rudolph really cleans up. Frosty contains the eponymous song, and that's it. We get reprise after reprise, accompanied by the same animation cels of the kids marching along behind Frosty, over and over, thumpity-thump-thump, gag me with a broom. For Rudolph, on the other hand, Johnny Marks, the composer of the original "Rudolph" song, was given the job of writing a slew of other tunes, including "Silver and Gold" and "Have a Holly Jolly Christmas," winners both, at least as performed by Burl Ives.

In fact, if anything, the show may have too many songs. In a holiday variation on the once-popular college drinking game "Hi, Bob!" (where the viewers of a Bob Newhart Show rerun must drink every time a character says "Hi, Bob!") my wife and an old roommate once sat down to watch Rudolph and decided to do a shot of peppermint schnapps for every song. When they conceived this game, neither could think of more than a few tunes in the show, but they were soon knocking back schnapps every couple of scenes: first came "Jingle Jingle Jingle," sung by Santa as he looks over the newborn Rudolph; then "We Are Santa's Elves," sung by the Elf Glee Club (minus Hermie); then "There's Always Tomorrow," sung by Clarice to the dejected Rudolph; then "Fame and Fortune," sung by Hermie and Rudolph as they run away... let's just say that by the time Burl had launched into the title song, there wasn't a lot of schnapps left in the bottle, and the audience was blearily sobbing over the hopeless Kafka-esque existence of the Cowboy Who Rides an Ostrich.

(c) 2003 Peter Cashwell. All rights reserved

10:12 PM

Readerville.com has long been my online home-away-from-home, but one minor problem with hanging out in such a wonderfully vibrant community has been the presence of all the friggin' writers.

Yes, we ink-stained wretches are not always easy to get along with, but that's not what I mean. The problem with hanging out with a bunch of writers is that you can never catch up with them. They keep writing books, and there's simply no way to read them all. And even if you could read them all, there'd be a decent chance that you wouldn't like them all. So you're left with the question of what to say about everyone's books; if you praise one, someone else is going to wonder why you haven't read HIS book yet, and still another person is going to be sure you must have hated HER book, and so on and so on. It's like being a guest at a party where you brought presents, but not for everyone there. So to be polite, I've adhered to an arbitrary and not-always-consistent position: I don't discuss Readervillagers' books in Readerville.

Of course, the problem with THAT policy is that when I do read a Readervillager's book and like it, I feel as though I'm not doing enough to encourage others to read it, too.

Luckily, I have another option: I have my own website. This is MY party, and I'll plug who I want to.

The Book of Dead Birds by Gayle Brandeis
A wonderfully sad and hopeful book that takes you through many strange landscapes, both interior and exterior, from the coast of Korea to the desert shores of the Salton Sea. Gayle explores the relationship between races, between sexes, and between mothers and daughters, all in beautiful prose.

Wonder When You'll Miss Me by Amanda Davis
Brash, funny, startling, wrenching—there's no single word to describe this story of a teenager, haunted (literally) by the spectre of her anti-social past, who runs away to join the circus. Though Amanda's death adds a melancholy shadow to this, her only novel, the book itself pulses with life. A tragicomic wonder.

The Midwife's Tale by Gretchen Moran Laskas
The story of a young woman from the West Virginia mountains in the early 20th Century. The descendant of midwives, she learns the skills of the family trade even as the sometimes-miraculous events of own her life drive her away from it. Gretchen lovingly details both the characters and the setting. This one will appeal to fans of Cold Mountain, In Open Spaces, and Housekeeping alike.

In Open Spaces by Russell Rowland
Another family saga, but unlike Gretchen's, this one's set on the plains of Montana and told from the men's point of view; ranching, baseball, and sibling rivalry drive the plot, but Russell's breathtaking portrayal of life on the prairie is worth the price of admission alone. This is the only book both of my parents have loved since Pat Conroy wrote The Great Santini, and it's not dissimilar.

Lily's Ghosts by Laura Ruby
Cheerfully macabre, this one is a young-adult book that's part Nancy Drew, part ghost story, with elements of both creepiness and good humor. I could say that Laura has crossed The Sixth Sense with From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, but I think you can figure it out for yourself. And since it's set in Cape May, New Jersey, the birder's Mecca, I have even more reason to enjoy it.

More Like Wrestling by Danyel Smith
Having grown up in Oakland during the eighties, Danyel paints a vivid picture of the time and place, telling the story of two sisters growing up in a tight but unusual family and social environment. There's heartbreak, violence, love, and betrayal, but most of all there's a real sense of home. If you never thought anyone could make Oakland seem appealing, check this one out and see how wrong you were.

Spilling Clarence by Anne Ursu
From its offbeat opening line to its end, this one's a winner. When a pharmaceutical company spills a memory-enhancing chemical into the environment of Clarence, Minnesota, the townspeople find themselves remembering things uncontrollably—many of them things they would prefer to forget. Original, funny, and moving, with richly drawn characters of every age. (Anne also has a way-cool website, www.anneursu.com, which, like mine, is hosted by the kind folks at FictCo.)

The Music Lesson by Katharine Weber
Katharine's gift is the ability to get the maximum impact from the minimum space; in this book about the theft of a tiny Vermeer painting, it's hard not to see the parallels between author and artist. Tightly plotted, closely observed, shocking and beautiful, this novel combines psychological richness and gripping storyline. And someday it'll make a great movie.

The above is not at all a complete list; a book or writer that doesn't appear here may still provide you with a wonderful reading experience. There are, after all, dozens of terrific writers at Readerville whose books I simply haven't had time to read yet. But from time to time, I'm going to bang a fork against a water glass, demand the guests' attention, and offer a few reading suggestions (and an Amazon link or two). And if you should happen to pick up a copy of one of these books (all of which make GREAT CHRISTMAS GIFTS!, you'll be giving presents to some deserving writers; better still, once you've read them, you'll know that you've also given a gift to yourself.


4:14 PM