Only Book Club With People You Love

So you joined a book club.  And it's your turn to pick.  Your ideal title?  One that's not too serious but not too light, right in the sweet spot of what you'd enjoy and what you think others would enjoy too.  You search and search, but it isn't easy.  You've read this one, the others wouldn't like that one, and this one is about aliens.  Wait, what's this?  A New York Times bestseller and, oh look, the 2021 book club pick of the summer!  Plus, it's by an author you already know and love.  You click Add to Cart, feeling virtuous and even a little smug about what a good choice you've made.  But then again, you know books.  You've been a reader all your life.  You brought books to the playground, you majored in English.  You've got this.

And then one of the other book club members starts reading the book and tells you that there's something in it that'll upset another member.  And you're suddenly feeling all of the things, none of them good.  Your confidence in your ability to recognize quality literature has been shaken.  What's more, now you know how the others felt when you were so put off by The Guest List that you couldn't even finish it.  

Obviously, the "you" in this story is me, and the person who couldn't read my book was my mom or sister.  I'm not going to tell you which, nor will I reveal the title of my bad apple pick.  Partly because I don't want to open that door, but mostly because I protect the privacy of my nearest and dearest better than my own.  When I told the husband what happened, he said that 1) (without any prompting) I know good books (I knew I married him for a reason!), and 2) unless all we read is comics, this is going to keep happening.  He is, of course, right.  As was I when I said that reading is a very personal thing in last year's hard-hitting My Book Club, My Boyfriend.  

Nevertheless, this experience has forced me to grow.  There was a time when I'd cringe even after picking a movie that the other person didn't like.  So if nothing else, then being in a book club has ripped the Band-Aid right off that nonsense.  It also reminds me that other people have nonnegotiables and triggers too, and that we all need to be sensitive to each other's needs.  Still, I don't think I could be in a book club with anyone who isn't family.  Because although my mom and sister and I may sometimes disagree, there's no malice under it.  They're a safe space because they're my people.  And if I'm going to discuss books -- and all the baggage and emotions that come with that -- then I want to do it with people I love.        

That said, I'll still read my slush pile selection.  

I'll just keep it between me, myself, and I -- a.k.a. my book club of one.    

Punch Line? Feeling Fine! The Tears of a Clown are the Saddest

Judd Apatow's Sicker in the Head hit me the same way that his first book, Sick in the Head did.  Which is to say that it's not a laugh-a-minute collection of interviews with comedians and entertainers, but an introspective look at how the comedy sausage is made.  And one of the main ingredients, unsurprisingly, is emotional damage.  Because for all its seeming frivolity, comedy is a coping mechanism.  And if laughter is the best medicine, then comedians self medicate.  Apatow puts it best in his foreword:

"I have always seen comedy as a lifeline -- which is why I've been interviewing comedians about why they do what they do since I was fifteen years old.  Without comedy, I don't know how I would survive.  When the pandemic was at full force, I grabbed my family and made a really silly movie.  I didn't know what else to do.  Is that healthy?  Is it denial?  Is it medicine?  Is it sick?  I am not sure.  But now I know that when the world seems to be collapsing my reaction is to make a movie about a group of people having a meltdown during a pandemic as they attempt to make a movie about flying dinosaurs." (Apatow XII)

Apatow picks the brains of many beloved funny people, including Jimmy Kimmel, John Mulaney, Mindy Kaling, Pete Davidson, and Samantha Bee, ending, appropriately, with Will Ferrell.  Because who better than the guy who wrote "I've got a fever -- and the only prescription is more cowbell" to close a conversation about being sick in the head?  Ferrell talks about that, how the idea for the famous Blue Oyster Cult sketch came to him because he roots for the underdog:

"Even just the notion of driving along and listening to "(Don't Fear) The Reaper," by Blue Oyster Cult and hearing a faint sound of a cowbell.  I don't know how I had that idea.  I remember, the first time I heard that song, for some reason I focused on the cowbell, and I immediately thought, What's that guy's life like?  Does he ever get to hang out?  The sad weirdo who's trying to be a part of the group really appeals to me." (451)

Me too, Will.  Me too. 

Sitcoms Say it with Silly: Flagging Down Life's Lessons in the Fast Food Lane

 Fabulous Felt Flags Barrette

Tee: Merona, Target

Skirt: Merona, Target

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

Belt: Apt. 9, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Target

Fabulous Felt Cheeseburger Barrette

Tee: Hollister, Marshalls

Skirt: H&M

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Betsey Johnson, Macy's

Belt: Marshalls

Sunglasses: Rampage, Boscov's

Fabulous Felt Sailboat Barrette

Red blouse: Lily White, Alloy

Lilac blouse: Self Esteem, JCPenney

Skirt: Byer, JCPenney

Shoes: Ami Clubwear

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Sunglasses: Michaels

We can learn a lot from watching comedies, especially sitcoms.  Even Judd Apatow says so in his book Sick in the Head: Conversations about Life and Comedy: 

". . . most comedies  -- even if it's a Jerry Lewis movie -- start with an incredibly immature person who needs to learn a lesson." (23)  

Although Apatow is talking about full-length features, each sitcom series episode holds its own power as a microcosm of its main characters' struggles.  At the end of the half hour, the heroes and heroines have triumphed over that week's challenge, however unbelievable and zany, only to be plunged headlong into another comedic conundrum the next week.  But that's how they grow.  Just like we do.  One of my favorite sitcoms is The Big Bang Theory, and I've always particularly liked Sheldon's Fun with Flags podcast sequence in which he presents erudite facts and anecdotes about, well, flags.  He is, in many ways, at the height of his eccentricity here, unabashedly letting his freak flag fly for the masses.  Until the day, that is, when he decides that balancing his responsibilities as a physicist, boyfriend, and podcast series author are all just too much.  So he posts his last podcast only to get a comment that goes something like this: "Sorry to see it end; I kind of liked it."  The lukewarm sentiment immediately goes to Sheldon's head, inspiring him to resuscitate his barely cold series.  Part of me laughs at him, as I and all viewers are meant to in this (albeit sweet) satire on social networking.  But another part of me knows that I would do the same thing.              

I had a similar reaction to last Sunday's episode of Bob's Burgers.  Bob slips on some oil outside a masseur's shop and injures his shoulder.  At his doctor's urging, he tries to sue the masseur, Jairo.  But Jairo doesn't have any money and offers to heal Bob's shoulder instead.  Part of the healing process is to eliminate stress, and Jairo discovers that the biggest stress in Bob's life is coming up with the burger of the day.  So Bob stops doing it in an effort to embrace his new Zen-like existence.  Although his family and lone loyal customer Teddy miss seeing his latest kooky creation, Bob sticks to his new stress-free lifestyle.  Until wife Linda tricks him with a fake order.  At first he resists, but eventually his instinct to provide stellar customer service wins out, and he has a breakthrough.  Everyone rejoices (even Teddy, who, despite not liking the new burger, is happy to see Bob back in the game).  Everyone, of course, except Jairo.  But Bob doesn't back down, telling him that the stress of creating the burger of the day is worth the creative rush.    

So, what does this have to do with the flag thing?  I guess the lesson in both cases is that creativity is its own reward, no matter what it takes to get it out into the world.  Also, that flags are cool and beef is delicious.    

To that end, my Betsey Johnson burger bag seemed the perfect piece to include in this post.  Mostly because it has "Nice Buns" scrawled across the back, an inflammatory -- no, cheeky -- statement if ever there was one in this brave new gluten-free world.  

Sir Mix-a-Lot, I think, would approve.          

Movie Moment: This is 40

This isn't forty, but a random Brigantine sunset that I've decided to use in lieu of a movie poster because, as a reformed blogger, I no longer post purloined pictures.  (That having been said, I'm still not a reformed moviegoer, having smuggled Christmas-gifted chocolate-covered potato chips into the theater last night.)  Besides being beautiful, this sunset has that contemplative aura that accompanies all such photographs of natural phenomena.  Which makes it the perfect entree to a post about movie musing.

Judd Apatow's self-proclaimed "sort of sequel" to Knocked Up, This is 40 is the story of Pete (Paul Rudd) and Debbie (Leslie Mann), the always-caustic but once upwardly mobile couple with whom we first became acquainted in the background of Ben and Alison's baby drama.  A far cry from the affluent family that once sheltered Alison in its guest house, the troubled twosome and their two daughters weather financial problems complicated by relationship problems complicated by parent problems complicated by parenting problems complicated by the problems that come with the big 40.  The results are often more cutting than comic, straddling the murky middle ground between Apatow's raucous Knocked Up and his bleak Funny People. Even so, This is 40 emerges as the more satisfying and multi-faceted movie.

Debbie runs a clothing boutique from which she suspects her employees are stealing, and Pete has left the safe world of Sony to start his own (struggling) retro rock label.  But unlike the authors of idealistic destinies that run rampant in other kinds of movies, Pete and Debbie pay the price for their entrepreneurial existence and are so maxed out that they're in danger of losing their house.  It is this conflict, as well as finding time to be a couple in addition to parents, that is at the heart of this dark comedy, not the lure of infidelity, as in similarly genred but far less trenchant flicks such as The Change-Up and Hall Pass.          

As a thirty-year-old, not-quite-yet-married woman without kids, I won't pretend to be on intimate terms with Debbie's issues.  But I can say that they seemed real and disturbing and that despite my discomfort in witnessing them, I appreciated being exposed to a love story that was not sugar-coated.  Unlike your garden variety romantic comedy, This is 40 is about all the stuff that happens - and keeps happening - after the dust clears from the fairy tale wedding.  

Now that I've gotten all the serious stuff out of the way, I'd like to give a shout-out to Paul Rudd's hair.  It looks better than ever, even if his dad (a reprehensible mooch played by Albert Brooks) tells him to cut it.      

Movie Moment: Bridesmaids

I'd been looking forward to seeing Judd Apatow's Bridesmaids for a long time. The bf and I caught the last showing on Memorial Day, right before it was yanked from local theaters. It was funny, a veritable wishing well of wedding planning disasters. The heroine is Annie ("Saturday Night Live's" Kristen Wiig), a down-on-her-luck thirtysomething whose childhood best friend Lillian ("Saturday Night Live's" Maya Rudolph) is getting married. As if dealing with a failed bakery, a disturbing brother and sister duo for roommates, a humiliating job selling engagement rings, a clunker car, and an insensitive friend with benefits (Jon Hamm) aren't bad enough, Annie's new role as maid of honor puts her head-to-head with Lillian's new pal, wealthy, prissy, one-upper Helen (Rose Byrne). Of course, the clunker jump starts the meet-cute for Annie and nice-guy cop Officer Rhodes (Chris O' Dowd), a guy as quaintly charming as his oh-so-appropriate moniker.

I've never been a bridesmaid (well, not as an adult anyway), but everything I've read or heard about the in-fighting, jealousy, and pettiness that plague bridal parties was in full flower in this comedy. Kristen Wiig is funny and sympathetic as the always-one-step-behind Annie. With an all-star supporting cast including "Mike & Molly's" Melissa McCarthy (hilarious) and "The Office's" Ellie Kemper (so like her naive receptionist character Erin), a "Brady Bunch" reference, and an appearance by Wilson Phillips belting out "Hold On," Bridesmaids is fun and, dare I say, heartwarming. (Beware, as a gentle plot spoiler lurks within the next two sentences.) In the end, Annie finds out that her nemesis Helen has her own "stuff" to deal with, and that it's these very insecurities that account for her unpleasantness. Although the two don't become best friends (that would be unrealistic), they join forces to give Lillian the wedding she deserves, reminding us of the importance of kindness. That's a little deeper than I meant to get reviewing a comedy. But then again, even the zaniest, most outlandish blockbusters are built on a few grains of truth, offering us windows into the emotional minefields of our own lives.