Lean, Mean Ressurecting Machine

Talk about a lean, mean resurrecting machine. I am once again making an appearance. Just like Michael Jackson but just like not, and it's the latter statement that's making me happy. That's an uncharitable statement as it is, so I'll try to be charitable and clam up about that topic. Clammed up now.

I suppose I owe you, my faithful readers, a brief explanation of where I am now and what I am doing. If my supposition is correct, I guess I'll just dispute the debt or otherwise ignore it ... for now. I am such an interesting topic, so we really must hear my thoughts on myself some time.

For now, though, I'd like to turn your attention to my favorite person of the moment: Michiko Kakutani. I have been checking out the Arts section of the NY Times daily since fairly recently, and one of her reviews caught my attention. Specifically, I thought her opening paragraph was a winner:

Nearly all the characters in Zoë Heller’s ambitious new novel, “The Believers,” are true believers. Though each chooses a different vehicle of worship — socialism, liberal humanism, orthodox Judaism or the New Age gospel of self-improvement — they are all in thrall to their own certainty, self-righteous about their own beliefs and contemptuous of anyone dimwitted enough to disagree. They are also believers in their own mythologies: the roles in which they have been cast by their parents or children or followers, the personas they have had thrust upon them and have, over the years, internalized as their own. Zeal is their default setting; sanctimony, their favorite defense.

Nice job, Michiko. Despite being an awarded journalist, she's actually pretty controversial - see here and here. I love characters, more so "writing characters", and do resolve to follow her reviews religiously from now on.

On that note, one of my usually reliable authors, Susan Elizabeth Phillips (SEP), has let me down big time with her latest novel, "What I Did for Love." If you haven't read any of her books, then skip to the next paragraph (if there is one), as my disappointment will be incomprehensible to you. One of the things I like about SEP is that she's formulaic (weird situation, guy meets girl, girl falls first, guy falls second and has sucking up to do because he didn't fall first, happy ending) but also original. In her latest novel, she did follow her formula, but her originality flew out the window. The story's a plagiarism of the Pitt-Jolie-Aniston triangle, pretty much. It was definitely not her best work. Here's hoping that the re-issue of Glitter Baby is better.

I won't get to read that book for a while, because thisfunnylittlethingcalledwork is being needy right now and, more importantly, because I'm reading another book that I'm enjoying immensely. And that is Francine Prose's "Reading Like a Writer." I guess you could call it the ultimate textbook for creative writing. It's very informational, and the many excerpts she dissects stop it from being boring. So reading-wise, I'm in a good place.

I am also sleepy. G'night.