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.    

Merry Christmas Eve Eve from Our Pal Steve

Zahn, that is.  Because I'm talking about the HBO Max original movie 8-Bit Christmas (which does indeed, however indirectly, have something to do with this pic.  But we'll get there.).  As nostalgic and charmingly rough around the edges as A Christmas Story, 8-Bit Christmas strikes a chord with anyone who's ever made a Christmas list, but especially those of us who grew up in the '80s.  Jake Doyle (Neil Patrick Harris) tries to connect with his cell phone-obsessed daughter by telling her the tale of how his tween self would stop at nothing to get a Nintendo.  So starts the setup for a classic Christmas frame story as Jake detours down memory lane.  And it turns out that scoring an NES is a tall order for young Jake (Winslow Fegley) and his ragtag group of friends.  First, because Nintendos are hard to come by in 1988.  Secondly, because, in a rare case of conscience over consumerism, the local parents' protest against video games has convinced stores not to sell them.  Jake's own dad (Steve Zahn) would rather Jake spend his time helping him with his endless home renovations than snagging extra lives and getting to the next level.  That is, when he's not nagging Jake to pick up the dog poop dotting their yard.  But Jake doesn't listen.  When he realizes that he's not getting a Nintendo for Christmas, he enters a competition to win one.  His tunnel vision pursuit of Super Mario Brothers bliss begets one disaster after another.  Yet somewhere in this caper -- which also features girls' Esprit snow boots, counterfeit Cabbage Patch Kids, and a steady stream of upchucked SpaghettiOs -- is the meaning of Christmas.

This was only one of my takeaways from the movie.  The other was that I won a Nintendo in 1989 for drawing this:

Never mind that the "little" girl is too big to fit through the door of the candy cottage.  Or that the angel doubles as a banner plane.  No, the most questionable thing going on here is the seemingly inexplicable sentence scrawled at the bottom: "I'm a girl!"

 All I can say is that for Halloween that year, I'd gone as an astronaut, and some young thug at the mall (because, yes, that's where I went trick-or-treating) hooted, "Hey, look at the little astronaut dude!"  Although I now see this as the compliment it was, I was filled with all the righteous indignation of a serious seven-year-old, my fury so fierce that it made its way onto my art contest entry more than a month later.  Which, now that I think of it, has a bit of a gender bender parallel, however tenuous, with something that happens in the movie.  Not to worry; as my gift to you, I'll squelch my spoiler impulses.  

None of this is the punchline of this yuletide anecdote, though.  That would be that I already had a Nintendo, kind of sort of making me the spoiled kid in 8-Bit Christmas -- minus the power plays and bullying.  (Always on the other side of the bully divide, I played my two Nintendos by myself, thank you very much.)  But nerd or not, I was still a nerd with multiple gaming systems, and this embarrassment of riches is just one of the reasons I (briefly) considered not blogging about this humble brag of an art contest win.  

We all knew how that would turn out.

Now the NES is a relic and kids play with something called the Switch.  But even if 8-bit doesn't mean what it used to, it's still better than a two-bit anything else.

And also picking up dog poop.

Bow Knows Prose

Prancing Pegasus Bow Barrettes

Happy Heart Bow Barrettes

Top: Merona, Target

Skirt: Modcloth

Shoes: Payless

Bag: Xhilaration, Target

Belt: Wet Seal

Sunglasses: The Tote Trove

 Cheery Cherry Bow Barrettes

Dress: Kohl's

Scarf (halter tie): Wet Seal

Shoes: a.n.a, JCPenney

Bag: Candie's, Kohl's

Sunglasses: Michaels

Fish Friends Bow Barrettes

 Dainty Doughnut Bow Barrettes

Dress: JCPenney
Jacket: Material Girl, Macy's
Shoes: Chinese Laundry, DSW
Bag: Nordstrom
Belt: Wet Seal
Sunglasses: The Tote Trove

There's no good reason to reference a 1980s pop icon and super athlete in the title of this post.  Just like there's no good reason to feature cherries when they've been replaced by apples, or to post beach pics when the wind is howling cartoon-style outside my window.  Except that it's catchy and quirky and neatly ties up the otherwise disparate elements of bow barrettes and celebrity fiction at work here this week.  

When I first heard about B. J. Novak's One More Thing, I, like most other people with a TV, thought, oh, Ryan from The Office wrote a book.  The fact that it was not a biography but a collection of short stories was intriguing.  And also kind of fitting.  After all, Novak not only starred in but wrote for The Office.  Also, there was that episode in which a fedora-sporting Ryan wrote and recited some pretentious poetry.  Not that B. J. is Ryan, or that B. J. is pretentious.  Still, there are parallels.  But we'll get there.

The stark, spare style of the book's cover proclaims that it means business (unlike the cover of fellow Office writing alum Mindy Kaling's book Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? And Other Concerns, which was, by Mindy's own admission, "mostly pink"*), setting the stage for the unabashedly literary satire that smirks within.  Most of the selections are vignettes about life with a zingy punchline, some in flash fiction format at a single sentence.  Novak explores the kind of paradoxically casual yet take-on-the-world reflections that have been espoused by angry young men since the first four-letter word was etched on a cave wall.  Reading his book is like eating a bag of Sour Patch Kids -- tangy at first, but once you get passed the outside, kind of sweet.  With wry wit and a hint of cynicism, Novak delves into the usual hot-button issues of the economy, education, social networking, romance, and what happens when we die, adding his own funky twist.  Some protagonists are faceless everymen, whereas others are celebrities we know and love (or, in some cases, at least love to hate).  Because Novak isn't afraid to "go there," a trait he exploited to dramatic proportions as his Dunder Mifflin alter ego.  (I like to think that his writerly voice is one that both mocks and appreciates someone like Ryan, the latter albeit ironically.)  He makes you laugh and he makes you think, and his oddball stories are all over the map.  Some are punctuated with English class-style discussion questions, such as "Do you think Johnny Depp should have driven his motorcycle off the mountain highway to his death?  Why or why not?" (169); indeed, there are eight discussion questions, lighthearted yet probing, at the end of the book.  Still, there's a unifying thread woven amid the crazy, and that's (not to get all Declaration of Independence on you) the importance of freedom.  Many of the stories, however circuitously and irreverently, highlight the struggle of retaining one's own autonomy in an oh-so-often homogenizing world.

On that note, I'll leave you with this.  What would Neil Patrick Harris, John Grisham, and Justin Bieber have to say about their starring roles in these stories?  Extra credit: What do you think Michelle Pfeiffer thinks of Vance Joy's shout-out to her in his song "Riptide" and of Bruno Mars's same in "Uptown Funk", and are the two at all related?

Discuss.

*If you are not a regular reader and therefore unaccustomed to my Mindy references, then please see the above link to confirm that I say this not with criticism but with love.  As much as it pains me to point out my own attempt at humor, I'd rather be accused of subpar literary prowess than of being, to put it plainly, a meanie. 

Movie Moment: American Reunion

If you graduated high school in or around 1999, then chances are that you have a kind of connection to the American Pie movies.  Having belonged to the class of 2000, I was particularly excited to see the fourth and presumably final installment, American Reunion. 

Thirteen years have passed since Jim (Jason Biggs), Kevin (Thomas Ian Nicholas), Oz (Chris Klein), and Finch (Eddie Kaye Thomas) made their epic pact to each bed a babe on prom night.  Despite adulthood having descended in the form of wives, kids, and careers, the gang's all here (even Oz, Heather (Mena Suvari), and Vicky (Tara Reid), who were conspicuously absent from the conga line in American Wedding).  Not surprisingly, life hasn't turned out the way any of them expected.  Jim and Michelle (Alyson Hannigan) are adjusting to life with a baby, Kevin is an architect-slash-stay-at-home-husband, Finch has been leading a life of exotic but vague adventure, Oz is a sports commentator with a spot on a "Dancing with the Stars" type show (hosted by Neil Patrick Harris!), and Stifler emerges from his mother's (Jennifer Coolidge) basement to crash the party yet again, apparently buckling beneath the demands of his secretarial gig.

The usual gross-out antics and naked ladies rim the edges of what amounts to be an oddly touching story.  Because beyond all the madness is a quiet reminder that everyone gets older and that life goes on.  Nowhere is this message more apparent than when we learn that Jim's mom died three years ago.  Jim takes over the role of caretaker as he gently nudges his dad (Eugene Levy) to dip his toe into the dating pool, an experiment that produces hilarious results.  Speaking of second chances, Oz becomes jealous of Heather's cardiologist boyfriend, Dr. Ron (Jay Harrington, the very same "Dr. Ron" from that guest spot on "Desperate Housewives" many moons ago), right around the same time that his own girlfriend ("30 Rock's" Katrina Bowden) is beginning to grate on his nerves.  But at the core of the crazy is Jim's moral dilemma presented in the form of an all-grown-up and smitten girl he used to (and this is kind of weird) babysit.   

Unlike the Hangover movies, American Reunion serves up a sex comedy with a conscious.  Sure, it makes you cringe in places, but it's the cringing that balances the sap, ultimately making the sap that much sweeter.