SONG OF THE DAY [#296]

'you, me & the bourgeoisie' | the submarines

wow, i gotta tell ya, this new submarines album is out-frakking-standing! i smell a band on the cusp of greatness!

the impeccably-named john dragonetti and blake hazard [if those are their real names i'll eat my foot] have been doing their thing [and when i say 'thing' i mean a revolving door romance and writing songs together] for awhile now. they met in boston through a mutual friend, hooked it up, moved to la-la land, wrote an album, broke up, realized the songs they were writing were about each other, got back together, etc, etc, etc. so we should all be thankful they got back together 'cos this is some amazing dag.

i think 'you, me & the bourgeoisie' is the first single from the upcoming 'honeysuckle weeks' which drops next month. it's already on my short list for favorite album of the year, so check it out.

→ the submarines: you, me & the bourgeoisie
→ the submarines: sub symphonika

book review: the secret life of houdini: the making of america's first superhero

i knew next to nothing about harry houdini [the erstwhile ehrich weiss] before reading this book. the only image i had of houdini i had was him hanging upside down in a straightjacket. it's a pretty iconic photograph, so i'm sure you've probably seen it. a good friend of mine bought this book for my birthday [thanks, cory!] after she saw it on my amazon.com wish list. what a great gift! little did i know that after starting this book i would completely absorbed the world of houdini, and by the time i finished larry sloman's and william kalush's book, i felt like i'd know houdini my entire life. and i wanted to hang out with him. what a cool dood!

i think it's a fair statment to say that houdini was the most famous american during the first quarter of the twentieth century. houdini was a master of publicity and self-promotion. newspapers and magazines covered his every escape and tens of thousands of people would gather to watch his latest feat. houdini wasn't simply a man, he was an event and he felt a duty to make sure the people got their money's worth. it wasn't unusual for him to take ninety minutes to escape a certain trap. if it took longer, then it took longer, but he always escaped. one man commented that houdini's forearms were covered in scars. houdini himself said that if he had to tear of a piece of flesh to make his escape, he'd do it. and many of escapes were not magical at all, but the result of uncommon, brute strength and determination. people paid good money to see him escape, so he made sure he did. and while he's primarily known as an escape artist [not so much a 'magician' as popular opinion says], houdini was instrumental in the advent of flight, the development of motion pictures, and, as the authors hypothesize, a spy for the united states of america. while the anecdotal evidence to support the claim is pretty compelling and pretty darn interesting to read, i don't think the authors proved their claim beyond doubt; but if it is true, it makes all the sense in the world that the government, or certain people within the government, would draft houdini into the world of secret operations. as houdini travelled the world, foreign jail houses were a popular stop. every local police chief and constable wanted the great houdini to try and escape from his cell and devised all manner of handcuffs, manacles and locks to prevent him from doing so [they were never successful]. this gave houdini unprecedented access to sensitive data which he could easily steal, or with his incredible memory, memorize and write down later. amazing stuff.

houdini was fiercely protective of his inventions and escape acts and did anything he could to expose or humiliate anyone who tried to capitalize on the acts he carefully developed, invented, and mastered; but despite that protectiveness, he was also a very generous man. there was a magician in south africa who wanted to perform some of houdini's escape acts and wrote houdini to ask permission with the promise he give houdini proper credit for inventing the escape. houdini, always a man of integrity, returned the kindness. he gave the magician permission to perform his acts and didn't ask for royalties or any portion of the man's potential income. he was also very generous with his time and money. having grown up among the poorest of the poor, houdini [a very wealthy man during his adult years] gave freely and liberally those who were growing up in circumstances similar to his own.

one of the more interesting stories involves houdini being contacted by the russian royal family. as rasputin was gradually gaining more and more influence in the czar's court, extended family members contacted houdini and asked him to come to russia to expose rasputin as a fraud. he never made the trip, but it may have been the first time he heard of someone gaining influence and favor through 'magic.' i think that realization was a sort of catalyst for the events that shaped the last thirteen years of his life in which he fought in almost daily battle against the blooming spiritualist movement that nearly overtook the country in the wake of world war 1. that's when the book really takes off.

the last two hundred pages deals strictly with houdini's almost daily battle with the spiritualists. the spiritualist movement reached it's apex in the wake of world war 1. so many people were so distraught over the loss of loved ones, that they began to seek out 'mediums' who could put them in contact with the dearly departed. it was an economic windfall for anyone who could pass him or herself as a medium as the broken-hearted were ready to pay large sums of money for the chance at contacting the dead. at that time mediums numbered in the thousands in the new england area alone and it's believed that many prominant goverment leaders, including the president, relied on mediums. houdini was furious that the mediums would prey on the destitute and did everything he could to expose them. he employed an impressive network of friends, family, associates, journalists and reporters [his very own 'secret service'] with the sole purpose of ferreting out mediums. his rag tag team would scout out venues were mediums were performing, take note, and report back to houdini. houdini, in turn, would attend a performance in disguide, study the act, and figure out how the mediums were pulling off their tricks. he would then return the next night in disguise and as soon as the lights of the auditorium dimmed and the medium began his or her routine, houdini was stand up, rip off his diguise and exclaim, 'i am houdini and you are a fraud!' he would then tell the gathered audience how they were being fooled and misled, much to the chagrin of the medium on the stage. he single-handedly put dozens upon dozens of fraudulent mediums out of work. when asked the difference between what mediums did and what he did, houdini simply stated that when an audience came to see him perform, they knew they were being tricked and it was their job to figure out the trick. with mediums, the audience didn't know they were being deceived, and he made it mission to make sure they knew.

the most famous medium of the time was a bostonian woman named margery who was compulsively supported and defended by none other sir and mrs. arthur conan doyle. houdini made it his personal mission to expose margery as a fraud. after sitting in on several of margery's seances, he had figured her out. what follows is a utterly readable and compelling tit-for-tat played out in public between houdini and doyle--one time friends--and an escalating war between houdini and spiritualists that may, as the author's propose, have ultimately cost him his life. if it sounds interesting, believe me when i say it is. i read the last couple hundred pages in one sitting, which for me is really saying something. i won't give away any more than i have as it's quite a thing to read how houdini figured out margery's trickery and tried to expose her for what she really was. it's absolutley mind-blowing stuff.

i don't know that i've admired too many people more than i admire harry houdini. he was a man true to the core and you'll come away from the reading wondering how such a man came to be: brilliant, dogged, generous, charitable, mystifying, determined, but ultimately human. 'the secret life of houdini: the making of america's first superhero' is one of those rare books that draws you in and makes you lose sense of time and place, much like the magician himself. and that's about the best magic trick of all.

→ spitcake verdict: buy it, read it, pass it along! [if you want to read it, you can borrow my copy].

the unvalentine

some of you know my friend jesse draper [and if you don't, you should!] if you do know him, you know what an incredible artist he is. i've seen the man work -- he's brilliant. really, really brilliant. a couple of summers ago we were all down at the beach for a week and dood was pumping out paintings left and right. amazin'. i've also seen a lot of his portaits and wow, dood can paint. i envy his talents.

a few days before christmas jesse dropped by the house and gave me a copy of 'the unvalentine,' a book written by sam beeson and illustrated by the man himself, jesse draper. [having connections is awesome and free books is even awesomer--thanks, j!] it was only a day or two earlier that i knew the book even existed. apparently he worked on this project for awhile, but it was time well-spent 'cos it's a great little book. if you're like me and you get a little cynical every february 14th, this is the book for you. if you get sick of all the mushy, gushy pepto-pink happenings on that cursed day, this book is for you. if underneath it all you're a marshmallow, like me, this book is for you. you'll be smiling from start to finish. what's cool about the book is that it even comes with 'unvalentines.' you can tear them out and give to your fellow unvalentines.

'the unvalentine' is on sale at amazon.com and the usual online retailers, and if you're in the greater salt lake city area, you can pick it up at deseret book. i think jesse said it would be on sale at target and wal-mart, too. check it out. and i'm not just saying that 'cos jesse is my friend. it really is cool and funny book. so buy it. that it all.

book review: twilight [or, where, oh where, have the editors gone?]

after seeing just about every woman between the ages of 18 and 80 reading this book at the gym, and on the advice of a couple of trusted friends, i decided to give stephanie meyer's twilight a read. i'm a big 'buffy' and 'angel' fan, so i was a bit weary at first; but my friends assured me twilight beared no resemblance to either, so why not? after all, she's lds, she went to byu. so, you know, gotta support the home team, right? and ms. meyer seems like a perfectly nice and kind woman, someone who's probably pretty cool [she listens to muse and reads orson scott card] and likable. i was willing to give her the benefit of the doubt and ignore the massive hype and adoration by fangirls and give it a go.

the first chapter, i admit, was mildly intriguing: big city girl moves to small, gloomy washington town and is instantly consumed with an inexplicable attraction to a boy with a 'pefect face' by the name edward cullen. he's dark, brooding, gorgeous, enigmatic, blah, blah, blah. and oh yeah, he's a vampire. only bella does it know it yet. ok, it seemed like there was some potential for interesting story, so i lowered my head and trudged forward, all the while hoping it was worth the hype and that i'd be able to pass a few pleasurable hours with this new cast of characters.

my hope, however, only lasted about ten minutes. by the middle of the second chapter i had one one burning question: did anyone actually read this book before it went to press? i say that without irony, without hyperbole. it's not a rhetorical question. i sincerely want to know because the problems with this book are so abundant that it was the third time in my life i've actually been offended by a book [the kite runner and white oleander being the other two]. there's no way i could possibly cover all the issues with this book, but i will address a couple of major, glaring problems. and they are major. and they are glaring.

you would think that someone with an english degree from a major university would at least be able to form a coherent, well-structured sentence. but no. meyer's prose is so clunky, hard to read, and filled with some many voice inconsisties [drifiting between present and past within the same sentence, for example], adverb abuses ['i took my book out my backpack industriously' -- what does that even mean?], and cliches [overly long and repetitive descriptions of the weather, stock characters, for example], and usage errors that it literally drove me to distraction. i had a hard time following what little story there was because the book is so poorly edited both in content and syntax. any editor worth his or her salt should have caught and corrected them as they are very easy to spot. it doesn't matter that the book is aimed at twelve year old girls. poor editing is poor editing and shame on the publisher for not treating its readers with at least a modicum of respect. it's the worst kind of condescension imaginable.

again, i'm not trying to throw ms. meyer under the bus, but the prose itself reads much more like a 1st draft in an intro to creative writing class than a national bestseller. i found myself groaning or rolling my eyes at each passing page, feeling embarrassed for ms. meyer and her publisher, because of the triteness of the writing--again, did anyone read it beforehand? the dialogue borderline laughable. it's flat and generic. the exposition doesn't fare much better. it's amateurish and filled flowery prose and redundant passages that do nothing to advance the plot or develop character--and speaking of plot, twilight should've been whittled down to about 25o pages, maybe even fewer. there's no way a plot this thin and flimsy can sustain a monolithic 55o pages. no way, no how. and just when i didn't think the writing could possibly get any worse, ms. meyers unleashes this zinger: 'again, the fabric clung to his perfectly muscled chest. it was a colossal tribute to his face that it kept my eyes away from his body.' i mean, seriously. really? that's the kind of writing you get in $3.99 supermarket checkout romance books, not a national bestseller. at one point i half expected to close the book and fabio engaged in some good, old-fashioned boddice-ripping.

the writing might be forgivable were twilight at least inhabited with interesting chracters. again, ms. meyer fails miserably. i don't know that i've read a more pathetic character than the novel's protagonist, bella swan. yes, yes. her name is bella swan, the beautiful girl who doesn't know she's beautiful. seriously? do your best GOB voice: 'come on!' so strike one for a lousy, predicatable name. even that, however, might've been easy to overlook had she any redeeming qualities. but bella, for some inexplicable reason, has no ambition, no goals, no hobbies, no interests, no hopes, no dreams, and not a single original thought of her own. and i mean none. about all she does have going for her is her looks. well, that and an all-consuming lust for the hot vampire. that's it. all she does is stare at him and comment on his 'perfect face,' 'rippling muscles,' and 'amber eyes' ad nauseum. i'm not kidding, there have to be at last a couple hundred references to edward's glorious looks and physique. no exaggeration. ms. meyer made a less-than-admirable attempt to make bella more than one-dimensional by giving her an odd, wholly necessary, physical clumsiness. but i quickly realized that bella's clumsiness was just a cheap device to give edward chance after chance to rescue her from the throes of danger. it's just painfully ridiculous and lame. bella swan is an incredibly difficult person to empathize with and cheer for because she's such an idiot. but there was one more surprise about bella that i wasn't prepared for: when you get to the last page of the and see a picture of stephanie meyer, you realize she's mary-sue'd herself right into the book. she is bella swan. tsk, tsk, ms. meyer. at that point what little credibility the book has is immediately blown.

edward, for his part, is about the most boring vampire in history. he's 100 years old, but talks like he's ten. his initial repulsion of bella [due to the scent of her blood -- no lie] gradually gives way to, well, lust. his major conflict is balancing his literal bloodlust and protecting bella from all manner of 'danger' and 'peril' a.k.a. stalking. he's dominating, domineering, and like i said, 100 years old [anyone else see a problem with a 100 year old and 16 year being together? at least buffy and angel didn't skirt the issue]. a number of times bella states that she 'obeyed' edward or 'was commanded' by edward. does that worry you a bit? aside from his alphamale qualities, edward his a big, fat snoozefest. he's the least interesting love interest i've ever read. and that leads me to biggest, and most offensive part of the book....

twilight is marketed and sold as a romance, the quasi-tragic tale of forbidden love between human and vampire, the kind of story that draws women of all ages into fantasyland. that's all well and good, but there's nothing remotely romantic about twilight. in order for a romance to work and be believable, there must be a reason those involved fall in love. ms. meyer, lord knows why, completely skips or ignores that part of the equation. bella shows up in forks, washington and by the third or fourth chapter she's 'irrevocably' in love with edward. why is she love with him? what's he done to make himself so deserving of her love? not one single thing. he's just hot. well, that's a problem. a big problem. it's hard to buy a 'love story' when there's no good reason for bella to be in love with edward in the first place. and there's certainly no reason for him to be in love with her. in twilight what you have is a teenage girl looking for wish-fulfillment--the kind of thing that gets real life teenage girls into all sorts of trouble. what almost no one seems to understand, most of all ms. meyer, is that love is a result, or a bi-product. love is earned and developed over time. love isn't something you just wake up and feel one day. lust? yes. absolutely. love? absolutely not. [and we wonder why so many women end up married to burger jockeys?] i realize twilight is escapist fantasy, but when i see hundreds of reviews on amazon.com by young women who see it as a 'sweet romance' or 'great love story,' it makes me worry for their futures. it's neither a sweet romance or a great love story. life is a lot more complicated than 'you're hot, i'm hot. let's be hot together!' forget about hard work, kindness, respect, decency, thoughtfulness, ethics or morals [as ms. meyer does]. so long as your hot and you've got your man, hey, it's all good.

and i think that's why i was so offended by this novel. when it comes to difficult and complex issues like love and implications of wanting to turn yourself into a vampire, much less fall in love with one, twilight is dishonest and disingenuous. it's not so cut-and-dried as ms. meyers would have us believe. like i said, i realize it's escapist fiction, but that doesn't excuse or forgive the shallowness of twilight. if i had a daughter, i'd think twice about letting her read it, even if it is just about the most popular book around. there's simply nothing to recommend it. boring plot + boring characters + sloppy writing/editing = bad book. i haven't the foggiest idea why it's so popular. i really don't. but i do know that it scares me. it scares me that so many people identify with it; it scares me that so many women buy into twilight's warped and simplistic version of love; it's scares me that such shoddy writing can be so well-received by semi-respected publications. but then again, maybe i shouldn't. wish-fulfillment is a powerful thing. it's made a lot of people a lot of money; and twilight is a perfect example of capitalizing on it and turning it into a cash cow. but in the end, bad books are bad books. and twilight is a stinker of the worst kind.

twilight apologists like to defend the novel by saying things like, 'well, at least young women are reading!' that's one way of looking at it, i guess, but with that kind of logic you might as well congratulate an anorexic for eating a marshmallow.

spitcake verdict: turkey