Showing posts with label Kurt Cobain. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Kurt Cobain. Show all posts

Sunday, September 19, 2021

Little Boy Blue and a Grown Man Too: Empathy Never Gets Old

Thirty-six-year-old Will.  Twelve-year-old Marcus.  They seem to have nothing in common and meet only because Will joins SPAT (Single Parents Alone Together) to pick up chicks.  But a traumatic event in Marcus's life bonds and changes them forever.  Can a twelve-year-old outcast with a weird mother and an absentee father ever find peace?  And can a grown man who's never had a job or a real relationship find something to fill his life other than cool clothes, music, and TV?  Nick Hornby's About a Boy intends to find out.  Now, I know what you may be thinking.  Tote Trove Lady, didn't you already blog about this when you reviewed Hornby's High Fidelity and Juliet, Naked and also the non-Hornby but hauntingly similar The Wishbones by Tom Perrotta?  Well, yeah.  But the whole arrested development theme is one that's near and dear to my heart.  Furthermore, this book's about more than a manchild; it's also about a boy.  It says so in the title.

When we meet Will, he's disgusted by parenthood.  He hates the way colorful toys litter the once-hip home of his best mate and the way a squalling infant can turn otherwise intelligent people into idiots.  And perhaps, most importantly, he hates the way children chip away at one's individuality and freedom, usurping every ounce of time and energy until even listening to a favorite record becomes an act of sedition.  And so, at thirty-six, he's contentedly childless and single, living off the royalties from his father's smash hit "Santa's Super Sleigh."  Unlike everyone else he knows, he has no complications and feels like he's got the secret to life figured out.  If you're having trouble picturing such a man, then I invite you to envision Hugh Grant, who played Will in the 2002 movie.  You know, charming and hangdog and harmless.  Unlike the real Hugh Grant, i.e., the horndog who got caught with that prostitute. 

That said, here are some of my favorite parts:      

This is a Will thought that's funny and (although I have a job) relatable:

". . . he had reached a stage where he wondered how his friends could juggle life and a job.  Life took up so much time, so how could one work and, say, take a bath on the same day?  He suspected that one or two people he knew were making some pretty unsavory shortcuts." (81)

Then again, Will also thinks this:

"That was the point of fashion, as far as Will was concerned; it meant that you were with the cool and the powerful, and against the alienated and the weak, just where Will wanted to be, and he'd successfully avoided being bullied by bullying furiously and enthusiastically." (141)  

It seems that Will isn't so harmless after all.  As an ex-bully and emotional drifter, not to mention a clotheshorse for all the wrong reasons, he's unequivocally part of the problem.  That's why he needs to learn from Marcus, a boy bullied so mercilessly that he gets a crush on his older protector, Ellie.  It's Ellie who introduces Marcus to Nirvana; she wears a Kurt Cobain sweatshirt every day.  (Did I mention that this book takes place in 1993 and 1994?).  At first, Will finds any correlation between Cobain and Marcus odd (he too is a Nirvana fan) but later realizes that it makes a strange sort of sense.  When Cobain's suicide spurs Ellie and Marcus on an ill-advised adventure, Will makes this observation:

"It was hard to imagine two less kindred spirits than Marcus and Kurt Cobain, and yet they had both managed to pull off the same trick: Marcus forced unlikely connections in cars and police stations and Kurt Cobain did the same thing on international television." (287)

Marcus and Cobain make people feel, even people who don't know them -- or themselves.  And that's just what Will needs in his life.  Just as Marcus needs Will's confidence, however misguided. 

So, what happens to Will at the end of this heart-warming if offbeat and sometimes sad story?  For once I'm not going to tell you.  I'll just say that About a Boy isn't about having a kid or being a kid or even growing up, but learning to look at things differently.

While still making time for clothes and TV and, of course, communing with Kurt.

Tuesday, August 5, 2014

So Much to Say . . .




Glam Garden Necklace

Dress: Monteau, Marshalls
Tank: Worthington, JCPenney
Shoes: City Streets, JCPenney
Bag: Nine West, Boscov's
Blue scarf: Express
Pink scarf: Wet Seal
Sunglasses: JCPenney



 Maraschino Mint Necklace

Tank: So, Kohl's
Skirt: Olsenboye, JCPenney
Shoes: Ami Clubwear
Bag: Call it Spring, JCPenney
Belt: Marshalls
Sunglasses: Cloud Nine, Ocean City




Blouse: Marshalls
Bra top: Boscov's
Skirt: Marshalls
Shoes: Betseyville, Macy's
Bag: Glamour Damaged, Etsy
Sunglasses: Target

. . . about music (if you listen real hard, you can hear Dave Matthews Band cranking out that early-1990s classic).  Sometimes I think things.  Especially when I'm in my car, listening to the radio.  Which means that more often than not those thoughts are related to music.  Here, in no particular order, are some stray ones I managed to capture:

- I heard Hootie and the Blowfish's "Let Her Cry" the other day and thought, no wonder Darius Rucker went the route of the rhinestone cowboy.  This tearjerker of a tune has country written all over it.

- Carly Simon's "You're So Vain" always makes me wonder about James Taylor (even though they say the song's not about him).  As in, self-satisfied Lothario or self-effacing hippie?  You decide. 

- Here's a thought that went so far it crossed the line into unfettered fiction:

I remember driving in the car with my mother, listening to The Killers and asking her what she thought "I've got soul but I'm not a soldier," meant, and she said, "That Brandon Flowers is a lover, not a fighter."  I think she just made that up, though, because she was like that, and because she liked Brandon Flowers the way I liked Cade McGowan (or any other boy blessed with a dangerous-sounding name)

- The last telephone on-hold music I heard was kind of Renaissance-y, which I found to be a refreshing change from the usual classical or easy listening fare.  Then it got even snappier, segueing into a catchy bluegrass-meets-adult-contemporary number that was pure Weather Channel.  The next time you tune in to plan a beach day, don't be surprised if you start wondering where you can buy the CD.

- Some thoughts on Fred Durst:

Not too long ago, for some reason, I was wondering what became of Fred Durst, only to turn on a morning radio show and learn that he's directing eHarmony commercials.  Jokes about nooky ensued.  Then, less than a week later, I heard that he has a tattoo on his chest of Kurt Cobain facing Elvis.  A man of many layers, that Fred.

- Some thoughts on cowbell:

Thanks to that Christopher Walken/Will Ferrell SNL skit, everyone knows about the cachet of cowbell in Blue Oyster Cult's "(Don't Fear) The Reaper."  But I didn't realize just what a sweetly haunting sound it could be until I heard it in the Bangles' "Hazy Shade of Winter."   Naturally, I had to Google said song to confirm that it was in fact cowbell I was hearing, and when I did, I discovered that it was a cover originally done by Simon & Garfunkel.  I didn't see that coming.  Talk about more informed living through blogging!    
 
- And finally, I'd like to see Begin Again before it leaves theaters.  This isn't so much a thought as a weekend plan, but I'm okay with that if you are.

Until next time; may all of your soundtracks be smooth ones.