Tagged: reviews
Review of Quiet, by Susan Cain
The film V for Vendetta has a line which goes, “Artists use lies to tell the truth, while politicians use them to cover the truth up.” Growing up, I was under the impression that internalizing the latter sentiment was required in order to call yourself an American. In other words, when I heard the line, the idea that politicians lie was nothing new. But I can’t say I had ever heard the first part, the part about artists deliberately using lies for good, until I watched that movie. Neither a politician nor an artist, Susan Cain attempts to simply tell the truth in her book Quiet. However, Fyodor Dostoevsky (artist) has this to say about telling the truth in his classic Crime and Punishment: “If there’s the hundredth part of a false note in speaking the truth, it leads to a discord, and that leads to trouble.” My experiences have convinced me that Dostoevsky speaks the truth. What we want to know, though, is how does Susan Cain do?
As best I can tell, Cain’s thesis in Quiet is that between the two major and decidedly different personality types (extrovert and introvert), in America the extroverts have convinced everyone that their type–their personality–is the ideal personality. More simply, Cain would like to be Luke Skywalker for introverts and return balance to the force. Unfortunately, there is quite a bit more than a hundredth part of a false note in her book. Two of them warrant attention here.
First, there is a section where she attempts to demonstrate that The West has a history of valuing extroverts, while The East has a history of valuing introverts. How does she go about this supporting this claim? Like any rhetorician, she uses proverbs. One of The East’s proverbs she provides comes from the reputable founder of Taoism, Lao Tzu, and reads, “Those who know do not speak. Those who speak do not know.”** Fair enough. The provided proverb for The West, on the other hand, comes from Ptahhotep. What Westerner doesn’t have a few ol’ Ptahhotep’s sayings memorized? For the fuzzy, Ptahhotep said in 2400 BCE, “Be a craftsman in speech that thou mayest be strong, for the strength of one is the tongue, and speech is mightier than all fighting.”** With writing being a relatively new form of communication back then, this guy may have just been saying the what-might-actually-be-a common western proverb, “The pen is mightier than the sword.” And, from where I sit, that has nothing to do with extroverts or introverts.
Maybe Cain just made a little mistake, but still understands the big picture? I wanted to believe so, too. But then she added, as her concluding proverb for the perpetually extrovert-loving West, “The squeaky wheel gets the grease.” Now, I am under the impression that a proverb is prescriptive in nature, not just a true, clever sentence. I have never heard anyone use that truism in a genuinely prescriptive manner. Maybe I’m sheltered. I’ve told people, mockingly, to squeak if they want something, sure, but I’m pretty sure they understood the tone of my advice included that I thought they’d lose a part of their soul for doing so. I think the bigger problem is that, by definition, there aren’t any proverbs that advise self-promotion and talking endlessly. Quite the opposite. The thing about proverbs is they have to stand the test of time to earn the title. In her research for western proverbs promoting extroverted characteristics, I find it hard to believe she didn’t stumble across “the empty can rattles the most.” But, then, had she included that one in the book, her thesis would’ve lost some bite, I think.
The second false note, which is not exactly false, though it definitely calls into question the gravity of the entire supposed problem, is deep into the book. We find ourselves in the midst of a lover’s quarrel. It seems that extroverts and introverts are often attracted to each other, which can sometimes result in marriage. This causes problems, it seems. For Greg and Emily, the problem is dinner parties. Greg wants to host them. Emily does not. As it turns out, once Greg and Emily learn that Emily’s introversion is not wrong or bad, a compromise can be struck. Cain’s advice? Don’t focus on the number of dinner parties, but the format. She says, “Instead of seating everyone around a big table, which would require the kind of all-hands conversational multitasking Emily dislikes so much, why not serve dinner buffet style, with people eating in small, casual conversational groupings on the sofas and floor pillows?”** A friend of mine recently enlightened me to a witty phrase that defines Greg and Emily’s situation and I think fits here: White whine. Seriously though, ladies, if you have multiple sofas and throw pillows that you don’t mind replacing every other weekend after your friends prove they’re not the refined diners you’d like to believe they are, then I can already tell you’re beautiful–we should chat.
Is there an extrovert ideal in America? Has a (perhaps unintended) consequence been that introverts get lost in the shuffle, or worse yet, believe they should strive to change a part of themselves which cannot be changed and live with the resultant shame? Susan Cain believes so. I’m not convinced. Maybe I’m not her target audience. In any case, I’m attempting to navigate life using something a good friend taught me recently: “Every person has a story. If you listen to it, you just might avoid judging them.” When that doesn’t work, I fall back on Billy Joel’s, “Don’t take any shit from anybody.” But a bibliography containing only two entries probably isn’t robust enough to get published and entice readers. I guess if I hope to ever be published, I’ll just have to make it up as I go.
****
*Dostoyevsky, Fyodor. Crime and Punishment. New York: Modern Library, 1950. Print.
**Cain, Susan. Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking. New York: Crown, 2012. Print.
Review of Noah
My goal is simply to get you into the movie theater. Now that that’s out of the way, let’s get to it.
According to Genesis, Adam lived to be 930 years old. Noah was born only 126 years after Adam died. Noah was 600 years old when the flood occurred. Altogether, then, the flood occurred only 1656 years after creation, which was only 726 years after Adam–the first man–died. For me, when put that way, Darren Aronofsky had an immense task ahead of him.
They say the president has a difficult time telling the public about foreign policy because there is so much he can’t say. The same thing is true for any deliberate attempt to re-tell the story of Noah. Aronofsky’s challenge was not deciding whether to use the NIV or King James translation of the story, no. His challenge was to determine what Noah would’ve known–Noah, a man who again, as the story goes, was separated from Adam by a mere 126 years.
Are there parts of the movie that surprise and baffle the movie-goer? Yes. Does the film blatantly disregard the account of the flood preserved by the book of Genesis? Yes. Does the film comically address certain plot holes in the story that viewers would probably have forgiven if ignored? Yes. But the film does not miss the theme of the original story. That’s what makes it remarkable. I could try to summarize the movie and explain how it does this, but then I’d miss my mark, now wouldn’t I? You have to decide for yourself whether he accomplishes this feat.
Oh, and there is an amazing stop-motion creation sequence that is sure to please just about everyone with a soul that you will not find anywhere else. So kuddos to Aronofsky for including that.
In the end, forget every detail you think you know about the story except its “why”. Then fill your mouth the filmy, powdery texture of impossible-to-duplicate movie theater popcorn mixed with diet coke, and “Enjai ta picture show!”
The Motion Picture
Our widening eyes betray our excitement. The air conditioner kicks on as we finish up our cereal. It’s ten-thirty. We’re going to go see a movie after she comes home from work. We feel like framing the note she used to share this fact with us, and yet, somehow we know this wouldn’t be a strong enough commendation. Instead, we re-read it a hundred times and blacken our fingertips as we vigorously review the showtimes in the day’s newspaper.
Scanning the areas she’s most likely to notice upon entrance, we clear the table of dishes, pick up a few pairs of shoes from the hallway, and make a few lines on the carpet with the vacuum. It’s perfect. Nothing will detour the event.
During the car ride, the escape begins. Upon purchasing the tickets, we forget that an entire world exists outside the theater. The pit stop before heading into the theater is where we last think about eating or drinking ever again. The previews, the last time we consider looking any direction but forward. The final removal of light marks the beginning of what we hope will never end. Good-bye pain, good-bye disappointment, good-bye change, good-bye ambiguity, good-bye senselessness, good-bye sadness, good-bye despair. Hello clarity, hello love, hello passion, hello happiness, hello resolution, hello caring, hello hope.
Hello hope.
One Track Mind
Is it wrong to admit that the real reason I don’t max out my credit cards is because I want to be able to buy tickets to Metallica–no matter what–the next time they come to town?
Review of The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman
Timeless and universal.
I have a rule. Well, Ecclesiastes has a rule that I believe is true. It goes like this: “There is nothing new under the sun.” When it comes to “get rich quick” or “relationship” books, it is impossible for me to not use this standard. If a book claims that it has come up with a new way to make money or keep a relationship strong, then, generally, I discard it promptly. I just simply refuse to believe that mankind’s soul has changed in any appreciable way in our existence. That being said, Chapman’s The Five Love Languages: How to Express Heartfelt Commitment to Your Mate is nothing new. And that is good.
The book’s largest flaw is that it is a book. It really could have been a flyer; I’m picturing a large picture representing perfect bliss overlayed by a few sentences at the bottom. The sentences being something like this:
People express and feel love in different ways. It seems that there are five ways. They include physical touch, quality time, acts of service, gifts, and words of affirmation. Try to speak your partner’s language(s).
Really, though, I’m proud to say that there is an even more fun way to help you figure out your love language(s). How I like to think about these five languages is via one language: song. Want to know which language is yours using songs? Then continue reading.
To start, if you think Kevin Costner defeats Errol Flynn in the battle of Robin Hood’s, we all know the only reason this happened is because Errol didn’t have Bryan Adams’ classic ballad “Everything I Do (I do it for you)” to accompany his swashbuckling sword fights. And your choosing Kevin means that your language is likely “Acts of Service.”
On the other hand, if everyone in the room but you noticed that you sat up during Moulin Rouge as Ewan McGregor belted out “My gift is my saw-ong…” in tribute to Elton John’s unforgettable “Your Song“, your language might just be “Words of Affirmation”.
If it is impossible not to feel warm all over when somebody tells a story about the summer of 1991, the summer during which you recall hearing Extreme’s “More Than Words” on every radio station across the nation as you drove to the west coast to greet Gulf War One’s returning victors, then you’re only hurting yourself if you don’t own up to “Physical Touch” being your love language.
Next, and admittedly a bit of a stretch (but then again, it isn’t my language, so I wouldn’t identify with it. Am I right Gary?), but if the only time you feel like someone really gets you is each year at Christmastime, specifically each time Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby” is played, then your love language is “Gifts”.
Lastly, if you can finish, “Eeeiiff eye-ee-eye-ee-eye (breath) shu-uld stay…” without hesitation, there can only be one conclusion. Your love language is “Quality Time”. (That Costner is receiving two shout-outs is beyond me. By the way Ma, he’s looking great once again in an upcoming action flick “3 Days to Kill”. Check out the trailer by clicking here.)
In the end, the book only takes a night to read. Not that you need to anymore. You’re welcome.
****
*Chapman, Gary D. The Five Love Languages. Chicago: Northfield Pub., 1992. Print.
Get A Free Blog Review
Last summer an entrepreneur, friend, and sometimes blogger told me, “If you blog daily for six months, you should have 1000 followers at the end of those six months.” Well, it’s been more than seven months of daily posts on Captain’s Log, and I’m sitting at 199. As is the case with most facts, this amuses me. Just the same, seeing that I am a part of the human race, and therefore partial to round numbers, I’m excited to amass follower number 200. And I’m shameless when it comes to getting what I want. So here’s what I’m offering: the blogger who follows me as number 200 will get a free review of their blog. That’s right. I’ll take some time between now and Monday to peruse your blog and then I’ll write the review for Monday’s post. You can trust that I will be sure to say nice things as well as true things. If you’re on the fence, think of it this way: in return for a simple click of a mouse, you’ll get exposure to 199 readers who possibly aren’t aware of your stuff. Heck, I might not be aware you exist.
This is a one time offer, and it is sure to go fast. A little book called “The Magic of Thinking Big” mentions that “everyone you know craves praise”. Well, I’m offering praise in exchange for bliss. Whatdya say?
****
Schwartz, David Joseph. The Magic of Thinking Big. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1959. Print.
5 Reasons Why Sylvester Stallone Might Overtake Tom Cruise As Top Actor and 1 Thing TC Can Do To Ensure That Never Happens
1. Rocky Balboa (Rocky 6)
2. Rambo (Rambo 4)
3. The Expendables
4. The Expendables 2
5. The Expendables 3 (This time he’s pulled together Antonio Banderas, Wesley Snipes, Mel Gibson and Harrison Ford. And those are in addition to Arnold, Statham, Li, and Ivan Drago. Oh, and Kelsey Grammar, too.)
For any of you who haven’t seen “The Expendables” movies, you’re missing out. Missing out like I thought I was missing out in the late 80s and 90s. I hated that I couldn’t go see rated R movies. It seemed like every good movie was rated R and starred Stallone or Schwarzenegger. When I finally checked those movies out, man was I disappointed. Then Sly shocks the world with “Rocky Balboa” and “Rambo”, only to top them a few years later with “The Expendables”. The movies are over the top in every way imaginable. It’s a formula that can’t lose. Lose the ego, bring the heart, and have a little fun while you’re at it.
Tom–don’t worry. You’re still tops in my book. The easiest way to ensure you never lose the spot is follow Stallone’s lead and give us what we want. You know what I’m talking about TC. That’s right. It’s time for the sequel. (Cue the Anthem.)
Review of Killing Season starring Bobby D. and Johnny T.
The previews looked like someone had re-tooled Hopkins and Baldwin’s 1997 thiller The Edge. Two elderly-ish men trying to survive, and possibly kill each other in the woods. But what we have here is something new. It is at once a simple action flick–kinda B-movie action at that–and a portrayal of one of the most challenging commandments Jesus of Nazareth issued.
The film begins with scenes of the not-so-familiar Bosnian war. We are shown images of genocide which would be striking if they weren’t nauseatingly familiar. Like Shutter Island before it, we are then shown that even the good guys sometimes commit atrocities. While in Bosnia we think we see Travolta killed. Moments later we are introduced to DeNiro’s character and discover he has taken to hunting in the woods…with a camera instead of a gun. Nothing surprising here.
The fact is nothing too surprising happens for the next hour or so of the film. There is a game of cat and mouse that seems to drag on and on with no point. But then something magical happens–the point appears.
Movies which improve with their run-time are few and far between. I grew up on the idea that most movies can be recognized for what they are in the first minute. This one is a rare exception to that rule.
Now Ma–before you think that you’re ready for this film, allow me to offer a word of caution. There are two surprisingly gruesome scenes that even caught me off-guard. So, just ask me about the movie next time you call and I’ll tell you what is so neat about it.
The rest of you, proceed at your own risk. It’s no Saw, but it still isn’t for the faint of heart. Too bad really, because it’s message is so full of heart.
Review of Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, by Haruki Murakami
Murakami’s Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World continues the post-modernistic tradition that aware readers have come to love. Upon completing the second chapter, it is clear that something different, something unfamiliar is occurring. The story is rife with metaphors and characters that work enough to keep us engaged, but it is really the storytelling’s style itself that causes our fingers to seek an instantaneous transition from one page to the next.
The story’s feint is that it’s about a detective. Of course, no tale worth its salt is ever about what it portends. Some authors make their points directly. For Murakami, who convincingly communicates that he is well-read, however, it is simply no longer interesting to tell the reader what to think.
As with other post-modern and fabulistic works, this book is a reaction. It is a plea to cause readers to never forget that no one should be taken for granted. In using these artistic movements, Murakami firmly plants his feet and announces to the world that he is not to be trifled with.
In the end, there is certainly nothing new under the sun. Yet Murakami has found a way to take his readers on a journey that is fun, difficult to predict, challenging and finally, rewarding. If you’ve been in a reading rut and need a book to shake things up, you’ll be pleasantly surprised to discover that you can’t put this one down.
****
Murakami, Haruki. Hard-boiled Wonderland and the End of the World: A Novel. New York: Vintage, 1991. Print.
Review of The Canterbury Tales, by Geoffrey Chaucer
Like the British accent today, Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales charms at first, but in the end sounds ridiculous. Buh-dumh-ching! Really, though, the book is just too old. Reading it under the tutelage of a doctoral professor of Middle Earth (or is it middle-English?) is the only way to do it, and even then it is slow going at best.
After finding out that the rape that appalled you was supposed to be funny, you’ll find yourself being chided for laughing at the next rape–because that one was not funny. The entire collection is a roller-coaster of meanings and double meanings, which all need to be explained step by step. They need to be explained not because they were written in another language, no, middle-English is actually the first version of English we are told; the reason they need to be explained is because life was so very different back in the 14th century. Well, no, that’s not right either. Or is it? Wait, what’s going on?
After three months of reading and studying, I am still not convinced why I should value so highly a work that requires so much explanation. Does the Mona Lisa require explanation? The pyramids of Giza? Plus, the apparent result of fully investing oneself in Chaucer’s genius leads only to wanting to sleep with the man. While intriguing to some, I can’t get there from here.
This review might have become more a review of the course or the way the Tales were presented than the Tales themselves. Oh well. While there were enjoyable moments, for any reader that hasn’t skipped reading books written in the last 700 years since the Tales, there was nothing new.
In the end, The Canterbury Tales may have been new in their day, but the serious reader need not feel guilty for skipping this seminal work.