2023 Academy Award Nominees for Best Picture

Certain people that fashion themselves cinephiles to one degree or another sometimes make an effort to see all of the films nominated for Best Picture in any given year. This is a difficult thing to do. I am sure I have done it at several points before, most likely when the Academy limited the nominees to 5 films. I cannot recall the last time that I saw them all. To demonstrate this, I am going to check all the old Best Picture nominees going back to the year when I last saw them all (before they announced the winner).

I think it's probably 2008. Semi-ironically, that is the one year that I lived in Hollywood. So it makes sense (easier to get advance screeners there), and in any case, it was much easier to see them all up until 2010. Now it is something of a bigger project. 

I've never undertaken it before, and there are not many days left (it's currently March 6 and I have 4 left to see), but I'm going to see what I can do. I've shifted my efforts from films and movies (there is a difference) to books, because long-form reviews of books are more acceptable (and generally safer on the "spoiler" issue). It's much easier to see a movie than read a book and Roger Ebert used to bang out film reviews in 90 minutes and I'm not going to write full-scale "Ebert reviews" for each film but I'm going to do what I can this week, because sometimes there are moments where it feels appropriate to dust off the film cricket hat. The movies and films will be addressed in the order they were seen, and this post will be updated either up until they are all seen, or March 12, which is when the winner will be announced. If I can complete this project on time, I will rank them all as if I were a voting member of the Academy, filling out a preferential ballot. No grades or stars or numbered ratings--you should be able to tell how I feel about each. 

Everything Everywhere All at Once 

Released April 8, 2022, EEAO quickly developed redoubtable buzz and became a box office sleeper hit. It made $500,000 in its opening weekend and went on to gross $73 MM in the US and $104 MM worldwide. Now, those are not Avengers numbers, but they aren't bad for a $25 MM budget. It is the third highest grossing of the Best Picture nominees, and the only one that isn't "record-breaking" in some way. It's not a Blair Witch level of success vs. budget, but it feels every bit as successful as Avatar or Top Gun, and probably more successful than Elvis even though that made more than twice as much and didn't have that much bigger of a budget.

Everybody loves this movie and I am no different. I watched it twice, and it was better on the second viewing. I am looking forward to the third. Michelle Yeoh is less likely to win than Ke Huy Quan, but they, along with every single other member of the cast turn this into a completely unpredictable multi-layered extravaganza (terrible word for a review, I know, but in this case it is accurate) that makes little-to-no sense, thumbs its nose at the "Multiverse" and one-ups it, even as that franchise has done everything in its power to make people think their movies are films and not theme park attraction blueprints. 

Pretty much everything is good about EEAO, except viewers may experience whiplash and confusion upon first viewing. There is a ton of subtext to it, but mostly, it's Michelle Yeoh. This is a career-defining statement in a similar way that Birdman was for Michael Keaton, with each film "advancing" from Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon and Batman. CTHD was groundbreaking at the time, and so too, is this: it could be the weirdest movie ever nominated for Best Picture. It seems to reflect on the entire history of cinema, with more recent "modern classics" like Kill Bill, CTHD, Ratatouille, The Matrix, Marvel movies, Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom (as this is Quan's long-due comeback from his iconic turn there) all referenced, and it's better than all of them. There has been an "Asian renaissance" in cinema over the last several years, and while I cannot say this is better than Drive My Car, it is certainly a lot more entertaining and engaging, and it is probably better than Parasite.  

The Banshees of Inisheran 

2022 was a wonderful year for me, professionally. Personally, it was far from the best, as I spent a good bit of it estranged from a dear friend. Without getting into too much personal drama, let us just say that seeing this film provided an emotional balm that few cinematic experiences are able to offer. I had a similar experience with Drive My Car, and earlier, Toni Erdmann. This isn't a three-hour foreign drama, however, and the light-hearted tone keeps it from becoming gruesome or depressing. This is a follow-up to the excellent In Bruges in the same way that The Interview was a follow-up to the excellent Pineapple Express. Except this is better than In Bruges and hits a deeper emotional core. You already know that Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson play off each other well, but this film pushes them back about 80 years into the past and from Belgium to Ireland. It feels like a play. And plays, unlike films, are more laser-focused on providing such catharsis to the audience, to stir something in them and make them uncomfortably-moved as they watch the actors live out on stage something they've felt deeply in themselves. In this way, the film delivers, and few of the other nominees have accomplished the same. 

Elvis

On March 2, 2023, I watched Elvis. I liked it better than I thought I would. Not that I don't like Elvis. While I am not a superfan, I have always found him amusing and feel that his ghost haunts Memphis, TN in a truly remarkable way. There are not quite as many impersonators these days, it seems, and so it was time to bring him into Generation Z. And so what you have here is a relatively true-to-life biopic of a music icon...with a Doja Cat song on the soundtrack, twenty minutes deep. This is a Baz Luhrmann film, and for me personally, this was better than Moulin Rouge and not quite as good as Romeo + Juliet. Much has been made of Austin Butler, and while I am not yet sure if I am going to pick him for Best Actor, it is quite likely I will. It's a great performance, and probably better than that of Ana de Armas, doing another icon from the same era (excellent in its own right). Rami Malek won for Bohemian Rhapsody and I thought Taron Egerton won for Rocketman but I was mistaken and Joaquin Phoenix once won for Walk the Line and so I think it is a strong possibility that Butler also wins. The movie itself is about as good as one might expect. Baz Luhrmann always has a comedic sensibility in his films (i.e. flashiness, interpolating the new into the old), but Elvis could have used some broader comic relief. The funniest line to me was Elvis mispronouncing the name of the group the Byrds. His relationship with his mother, which is one of the most interesting things about the movie, is depicted in abbreviated form, rather than as a throughline and theme, as it should have been. But if you make it to the final scene, I do not believe you will remain unmoved.

Top Gun: Maverick

On March 3, I watched Top Gun: Maverick. I never saw the original despite my family owning a VHS copy of it and being rated PG. Maybe this is because I didn't care about being in the military, for better or worse, even though my Dad was in the Navy. Apparently, the "Top Gun" program is part of the Naval Air Force Academy, not the Air Force itself. This is one thing I learned in watching the sequel, which is an odd movie I would never consider Best Picture material until a few years ago. 

Now then, the main thing about this movie is that it was a huge box office hit (along with Avatar). Big box office is not a problem for the Oscars. Yet in this case, there is a certain narrative that involves Tom Cruise saying "no" to streaming ahead of the regular schedule, and it being a gamble that pays off big time. Much has been made of Steven Spielberg congratulating Tom Cruise for bringing people back into theaters.  Apart from the business aspect, the movie isn't bad, and it's worth noting that Cruise is doing some of the best work of his career in his late 50's. 

No, this is not Magnolia and he is not nominated for Best Actor, and he shouldn't be for this, and frankly, whatever next Mission Impossible movie comes out will probably be just as good. But there have already been like six of those movies and this is just the 2nd Top Gun and will probably be the last (we hope, though it seems increasingly unlikely that any successful film with any kind of franchise potential will not get a sequel for the sake of not ruining a good thing). The scene with Val Kilmer is probably the reason this is nominated for Best Picture and while it is too brief for him to get Best Supporting Actor nomination, expect Kilmer to get one of the biggest ovations on Oscar night, for his accomplishments and contributions to cinema shouldn't be discounted. 

Tàr

On March 4, I watched Tàr. I had been wanting to see this film for nearly five months, since it had come out in theaters. It did not jump to streaming until fairly recently, and I watched it on Peacock. I knew it was divisive, and I expected to come out on the "love" side, and for the most part, I do. This is an Art Film, and the first thirty minutes will test anyone's intellectual capacity. It should do for music conservatories what Black Swan did for ballet. It should be required viewing, for them and for any art students generally.

The intellectual philosophizing in the film is nearly unprecedented, and Mahler aficionados should love it to death. It is "about" a lot of things, and there is not much of a plot until you realize there's no plot to any of our lives, just events, and experiences we go through leading up to events. Blanchett is good in everything and has probably surpassed Meryl Streep in terms of cultural renown. The question is whether this is the best performance of her career. This is her 8th nomination, and she has won twice. She should win for this, because few actors in history have ever undertaken the degree of preparation that she did here. I would be curious to know who could compare. The only problem is the movie is something of a downer, as Art Films tend to be, and isn't especially emotionally satisfying to the viewer. Its ending is not the ending to Elvis, basically, but it's also quite beautiful in its own way. 

All Quiet on the Western Front

On March 5, I watched All Quiet on the Western Front. It is nominated for Best Picture because apparently there always needs to be a war movie nominated for Best Picture. It is also nominated for Best International Feature and it seems obvious it will win that one. The opening sequence illustrates that the filmmakers were looking to do for WWI what Steven Spielberg did for WWII at the opening of Saving Private Ryan. But it's only about five minutes long; I don't think it lasts ten. And it feels weirdly juxtaposed, almost as if the filmmakers are saying, "give us an Oscar for this." It's an adaptation of a widely-read novel--one I haven't read, unfortunately--and from what I can tell, has been adapted twice already, in 1930 and 1979. The 1930 version is probably quite fascinating and I'd be interested to see it after having seen this, as the source material has not changed. I have not seen anyone talk about the 1979 version favorably, so it's probably fair to remake it, and there may be some timing to it, as we constantly try to say that xx foreign policy situation will develop into WWIII, China/Russia, etc. But fighting will never be like that again, anyways. Of course, there is horrifying and gruesome violence, of course, there are a few heartbreaking moments (the plot of the film, from what I can tell, is really about which friends in their group will survive), and of course, it's a good movie, but 1917 pretended to be "one continuous take" and Dunkirk at least had a shorter runtime, so I slightly prefer them. Actually, this was probably about as "engaging" as 1917 and similarly impressive in its technical aspects. This isn't something, however, like The Thin Red Line or Apocalypse Now or Platoon or Full Metal Jacket or Born on the Fourth of July or The Deer Hunter - all of which offer something "extra" to the usual cinematic tropes of war movies. Even lacking such, it's perfectly fine, but I'm a bit surprised by the nomination here on top of the International one, and query whether Netflix really just needed to have one of their originals in the category. 

Triangle of Sadness

On March 6, I watched Triangle of Sadness with a friend. Somehow, incredibly, I lost the review I just wrote of this, and it's horribly depressing because it was pretty good. Of course we all agree that editing makes writing much better, but when you lose the original, rewriting a new one from memory is stressful. That said, I mentioned that this is the English-language debut of an acclaimed Swedish director, that I saw Force Majeure and liked this better, found it more engaging and entertaining, and questioned whether it is appropriate to nominate for Best Picture merely because it is in English, rather than Best International Feature (I cannot recall any English-language films in the Best International Category). 

Also mentioned that, like AQWF, this is a good film, but demonstrates that the Best Picture category is now available to "merely good" films rather than the "great" ones--it is good to acknowledge and include more filmmakers, but it has resulted in a bloated ballot. The category worked fine when there were only 5 nominations, and it's odd that most other categories (if not all) each have five nominees.  I mentioned that this same friend and I watched Another Round together a couple years ago and probably would both agree that it is superior to this; perhaps today, that would be nominated for Best Picture. 

Finally, declared that this was basically The White Lotus: the Movie, except that it goes even further and devolves into an allegory on class and privilege. It is absurdist, and while it is amusing and sometimes thought-provoking, it is over the top (i.e. Woody Harrelson's Marxist "Captain" reading his written reflection on workers' rights through a P.A. system as their boat is bombed by pirates). I'm still not sure what happens at the end, and I think it's meant to be open-ended, and perhaps that air of mystery is why it landed in this category. But I really think it's just because people love White Lotus and this had a very similar vibe. 

Avatar: The Way of Water

On March 7, I watched Avatar, because I'd never seen it before, from beginning to end, and felt if I was going to do this project the right way, I needed to properly prepare and get up to speed for the sequel. Right now I am expecting to make the only actual theater trip for this project in about three hours, and while Avatar is a fairly decent movie, this does not make me any more excited for the coming hours. In short, background research is complete. 

On March 8, I watched Avatar: The Way of Water in 3D at a Regal Cinema. It is nearly 30 minutes longer than Avatar. It may be the longest movie I have ever seen in a theater. Regardless, it might have felt shorter than the first one--except there was a family with several young kids that never got the memo that you're not supposed to talk during movies. This half-ruined the experience for me as I ruminated on how annoyed it made me, and how I should have been more compassionate--but they literally talked the entire way through the movie. 

In any case, this was definitely a movie to see in the theater (even though at $22, it will also be the biggest investment of this project). The visuals were, in fact, very impressive. I have seen a few other movies in 3D in recent years but this made the best use of the technology (4D might have been even more fun for it). But this is exactly the issue: Avatar literally is a theme park ride, and one hopes that Disney will now make a 2nd ride, a water ride. Only three movies in history have made more money than Avatar: The Way of Water, and two of them are also directed by James Cameron. The Academy does not need to tell more people to see this movie, but it should tell them to see it in 3D by lavishing technical awards on it. (Putting aside the notion that it looks like pure CGI, and that Kate Winslet and Sigourney Weaver are more or less unrecognizable, despite apparently modeling for computer animation.) 

The story is basically the same as Avatar, but slightly more compelling. Instead of mining the planet Pandora for precious materials that are worth $20 million per kilo on Earth, the "sky people" (i.e. human beings from Earth, the year being roughly 2170) are hunting whale-like creatures that contain a precious fluid that stops aging and goes for $80 million per vial. The two main characters from Avatar now have a family with four kids and so that is another theme here. They have run away from the forest, as they have been tracked there by humans, and escaped to the ocean. One of their sons bonds with one of the "whales" that saves his life and that relationship is probably the best part about the movie (in the same way that Sigourney Weaver was probably the best thing about the first one). In short, I liked it better than expected, but mostly for the visuals. I might go to see Avatar 3 or Avatar 4 in 4D. 

The Fabelmans

On March 9, I watched The Fabelmans. A friend asked what it was about and I said, "Spielberg family basically. His growing up/To say more would spoil it." And yet I check the Vanity Fair article from where the above still is lifted, and it totally spoils the film. I generally encourage most people to avoid spoilers, because for me at least, even seeing a movie once takes something away a second time--they get burned into my brain in a way that keys in memorization, and they don't feel as new to me. Spoilers jumpstart this process ahead of time, leading me to anticipate some kind of turn, and when it happens it's not as powerful. 

Luckily I did not spoil this for myself and I would not spoil it for you except to say I knew enough about Spielberg's family from watching one doc on HBO (which is something of a career retrospective, and quite candid) that I had a sense of what this film might be like. And yes, much as it pains me to praise something by someone who definitely does not need anymore accolades, this is very good and worth seeing, on most every level. It has its share of light moments but ultimately it felt heavier to me than the other nominees (yes, even AQWF, which as noted above, also owes a debt to Spielberg). 

This also underscores the strength of the Best Actress category: Cate and the two Michelle's all deserve to win (Ana de Armas is remarkable in her own right in Blonde and let's not get into Andrea Riseborough here, it's not fair because I haven't seen To Leslie, though obviously I will, eventually). Of course, Michelle Williams gets a special boost for her excellent turns in Venom and Venom: Let There be Carnage (both criminally underrated), more so than Cate Blanchett gets a boost for being in Thor: Ragnarok. It's really hard for me to say which is my favorite but I have to go with Cate Blanchett because I felt like I could identify the most with her Tàr (ignore what that says about me). 

Joyce Carol Oates slammed this movie and said it was "remarkably mediocre," comparing it to made-for-TV movies with inane dialogue and exaggerated acting, though even she had to acknowledge David Lynch's cameo as a good scene. Yes, JCO wants to be hipper than thou and this is not a super-hip film, but it's better than that. Lynch is great in his small role (arguably as good as Judd Hirsch, with far fewer lines--and Hirsch's role skirts the edge of "minimal presence required for Oscar nom") but Michelle Williams is the real standout here. The film will have to win at least one award; it probably resonated for me emotionally more than any of the others (yes it brought me closest to tears). 

Women Talking

On March 10th, I watched Women Talking with a friend--late, around midnight.  This is undoubtedly the "smallest" of the nominees and the most difficult to review. It basically is a play. Much has been made of its color palette, and given the setting, the costumes, the makeup (or lack thereof) and the subject matter, a drab sepia tone befits the proceedings. That is, the women are being attacked--more specifically, drugged and raped in their sleep--and so they congregate to vote and decide on one of three options: do nothing, stay and fight, or leave.

It is not necessarily a spoiler to say they are part of an ultra-conservative Mennonite colony, but certain facets of this cultural identity account for the some of the more surprising and powerful moments of the film. The performances by all of the women are stellar, and the script beautifully juxtaposes their personal story with a larger meditation on society as a whole. The screenplay is written by director Sarah Polley, and adapted from a novel by Miriam Toews, which was based on a true story. The events in question took place in Bolivia, and though the setting is likely transplanted to North America (the precise location of the colony is never revealed), it could happen wherever such communities with backwards rules persist (even in Brooklyn).

Few people saw this movie, and though it is likely to draw a bigger audience, being nominated for Best Picture, it will only ever be seen by a small fraction of the number of people that saw Avatar: The Way of Water or Top Gun: Maverick. It is the only other Art Film besides Tàr. It's probably the most gut-wrenching in terms of subject matter, but due to its monotone aspects, also the most likely to put a viewer to sleep. There are moments of humor in it too, and though it is nothing of the spectacle of some of the bigger-budget nominees, I could see it being a special experience in a theater. Unfortunately, that time may have passed (it would have been the 2nd of the films to see in the theater on the list, but it was added temporarily to Amazon Prime this weekend and so I opted for that format), and yet it may have not, because this is a film that is tailor-made for the stage as well, and so the experience of being in the same room as these women as they are talking may yet become a reality. It's the first selection I've made on my ballot. It may not be the most entertaining or amusing of the nominees, but it may be the greatest demonstration of a perfectly realized (and streamlined) vision.

Rankings:

My personal favorite preferential ballot:

(1) Tàr
(2) Banshees of Inisheran
(3) Everything Everywhere All at Once
(4) The Fabelmans
(5)  Women Talking
(6) Top Gun: Maverick
(7) Avatar: The Way of Water
(8) Elvis
(9) Triangle of Sadness
(10) All Quiet on the Western Front

My predicted preferential ballot for Academy voters*

(1) Everything Everywhere All at Once
(2) The Fabelmans
(3) Banshees of Inisheran 
(4) Top Gun: Maverick
(5) Women Talking
(6) Triangle of Sadness
(7) All Quiet on the Western Front
(8) Avatar: The Way of Water
(9) Tàr
(10) Elvis

*I really have no idea how accurate this is according to current buzz and reserve the right to modify after completing my own ballot. 

This was a worthwhile endeavor, I'm glad I did it because I wouldn't have seen at least half of these, and not nearly as quickly. None of these movies and films are bad, and there truly is at least one here for everyone. It made me reassess the state of cinema. Despite the increasing tendency towards the blockbuster sequel, original and imaginative films continue to be made. 

Glamorama - Bret Easton Ellis (1998)

Of all the writers covered on this blog over the past 14 years, Bret Easton Ellis (or BEE as he is semi-affectionately known in literary circles, the counterpoint to DFW) has more appearances than most. To do the oeuvre exercise: Less Than Zero has not been reviewed, but I've read it multiple times and now believe it is still his best. I used to tell people that Glamorama was the best. Now, I don't necessarily renounce that, but as far as recommending his books go, I would recommend Less Than Zero over Glamorama. (And to follow up on the question posed in the review of his previous release, no, Glamorama does not make it onto the Best Books list; it's likely that Less Than Zero would.)

I'm not sure I'd recommend Rules of Attraction over Glamorama, but maybe, depending on how much you like your books to fuck with you. Rules of Attraction and Less Than Zero are rather straightforward narratives where Ellis's appeal should be clear to most readers: the books are relatively short, "punchy," dialogue-heavy, "cool," and their words seem to spool off the page--they're not page-turners in the traditional sense but they're quick reads if you "get" them.

American Psycho is his only book that I never finished, and feel with that book, he was trying to "develop" as an artist, and it certainly has the reputation (to say nothing of the film, which has its own referents in Glamorama) to prove it. Ellis was a star from the moment he debuted, and while his work was "gritty" from the start, he went over the top with it. I think I've heard him say that the book was a metaphor for cocaine and that makes sense. And it would make sense for Glamorama, too.

That said, this is a much better book than American Psycho. Maybe I am just jaded about American Psycho because I saw the movie enough times for the source material to be demystified. I think everyone remembers the first time they saw that movie, and it was one of the few times you could say a super controversial book also became a super controversial movie, and I don't think anyone understood the ending. Over time, now, I know that the ending is basically an admission that he has been fucking with the reader all along.

That is not the case in Glamorama, and its ending mystified me as well. To compare it to the rest of the oeuvre, Lunar Park is another one that was read-and-not-reviewed, my copy is lost, and it's something of an anomaly in the oeuvre (a faux-autobiography styled as an homage to Stephen King), but probably just as good as Glamorama, probably a better book to recommend for the so-called "average" reader. Imperial Bedrooms was the sequel to Less Than Zero, and I enjoyed it for the fan-service it represented, and still think it would make an amazing movie, even 12 years later, but I'm afraid that ship has sailed. I have no qualms about recommending it. Conversely I did not recommend The Informers and I do not think I'm alone in that, but it's an interesting read if you are an Ellis fan. I wouldn't read it as a model for the perfect short story, but there are probably two or three in it that are more decent than most. There was also White, which is similar to The Informers in being an anomaly, slightly better because Ellis is a better essayist than short story writer, but maybe slightly worse because he also seems to be "baiting" the reader and burnishing his newfound reputation as a cultural curmudgeon. 

He's talked about Glamorama (1998) as his favorite novel of his own, and how it is also the most hated of his works. True, it is easy to misunderstand, and in the same way that I think American Psycho (1991) is easy to misunderstand. 

***

They are both very shallow books on the surface. The first one is littered with fashion: any brand name you can imagine is going to be referenced somewhere. This one is littered with celebrity: pretty much anyone who was anyone in 1998 (and a surprising number of more "obscure celebrities" that seemed plucked out of BEE's personal circle, that have evolved in the cultural conversation over the ensuing decades) is mentioned here.  

More importantly, perhaps, it references my preferred racer in Mario Kart 8:

"'Shhh, I'm playing,' I tell her. 'Yoshi's eaten four gold coins and he's trying to find the fifth. I need to concentrate.'
'Oh my god, who gives a shit,' Alison sighs. 'We're dealing with a fat midget who rides a dinosaur and saves his girlfriend from a pissed-off gorilla? Victor, get serious.'
'It's not his girlfriend. It's Princess Toadstool. And it's not a gorilla,' I stress. 'It's Lemmy Koopa of the evil Koopa clan. And baby, as usual, you're missing the point.' 
'Please enlighten me.'
'The whole point of Super Mario Bros. is that it mirrors life.'
'I'm following.' She checks her nails. 'God knows why.'
'Kill or be killed.' 
'Uh-huh.'
'Time is running out.'
'Gotcha.'
'And in the end, baby, you...are...alone.'
'Right.' She stands up. 'Well, Victor, that really captures the spirit of our relationship, honey.'" (25)

***

Plot: novel concerns Victor Ward, who is a 27-year-old male model, previously seen in a small supporting role in The Rules of Attraction. He lives in Manhattan and he dates another model named Chloe Byrnes, and he has an affair with Alison Poole, who is Damien's (I forget his last name) girlfriend. Victor is opening a new nightclub with Damien. Victor is the lead singer of an alternative rock band and barely involved and quits the band in the one scene they have. He goes to the Tower Records at Broadway and 4th St. and encounters Lauren Hynde, who went with him to Camden College (and has a much bigger role in Rules of Attraction). They hook up after. 

These are the first 200 pages of the novel. They all concern preparations for opening the nightclub. It's very stressful, but with shallow concerns about who is on the invite list, who is going to show up, and whether it will be a success if they don't. Ultimately, Damien finds out that Victor is having an affair with his girlfriend and there is a scary scene where he threatens him and then eventually somehow sends Victor into the actual plot of the novel, which really starts on a cruise ship from New York to London. 

The novel is comprised of six parts, each part consisting of a number of chapters that count down to 0. This was vaguely clever. At the very end of Part 1, Chapter 0,  Ellis paints the scene at his protagonist's apartment:

"On my desk: free drink tickets, a Cohiba cigar still in its container, a Clash CD--Sandinista!--unopened, a check to Save the Rainforest returned because of insufficient funds, last year's Social Register, a baggie of psilocybin mushrooms, a half-empty bottle of Snapple, a roll of Mentos, an ad ripped from a magazine of Tyson promoting a new lip balm and the dragon tattoo etched on his bicep that has a Chinese inscription on it that translated means 'don't trust anyone' and an old fax machine and falling out of the fax machine at this moment is a slip of fax paper that I pick up and read. 
On it:

nie Marais, Christopher Lambert, Tommy Lee, Lauren Hutton, Claire Danes, Patty Hearst, Richard Grieco, Pino Luongo, Steffi Graf, Michael J. Fox, Billy Crudup, Marc Jacobs, Marc Audibet, the Butthole Surfers, George Clinton, Henry Rollins, Nike, Kim Deal, Beavis and Butt-head, Anita Hill, Jeff Koons, Nicole Kidman, Howard Stern, Jim Shaw, Mark Romanek, Stussy, Whit Stillman, Isabella Rossellini, Christian Francis Roth, Vanessa Williams, Larry Clark, Rob Morrow, Robin Wright, Jennifer Connelly, RuPaul, Chelsea Clinton, Penelope Spheeris, Glenn Close, Mandie Erickson, Mark Kostabi, Rene Russo, Yasmen, Robert Rodriguez, Dr. Dre, Craig Kallman, Rosie Perez, Campion Platt, Jane Pratt, Natasha Richardson, Scott Wolf, Yohji Yamamoto, L7, Donna Tartt, Spike Jonze, Sara Gilbert, Sam Bayer, Margaret Cho, Steve Albini, Kevin Smith, Jim Rome, Rick Rubin, Gary Panter, Mary Morris, Betsey Johnson, Angela Janklow, Shannen Doherty, Molly Ringwald, O.J. Simpson, Michael DeLuca, Laura Dern, Rene Chun, the Brady Bunch, Toni Braxton, Shabba Ranks, the Miller Sisters, Jim Carrey, Robin Givens, Bruno Beuilacqua de Santangelo, Huckleberry Finn, Bill Murr (212)

It is just amusing sometimes to see who Ellis decides to namedrop. It seems rather random. The world depicted in this novel is a familiar one--our 1998 reality--but turned upside-down; it has a sort of "Alice in Wonderland" type-feel, if Lewis Carrol had been a tabloid journalist. 

***

There are a number of Ellis tropes and motifs that recur, though these may be more limited to this novel and AP. Mistaken identity is one of them. Being seen at places one has never been. The idea that one is so bland and superficial and generically attractive that one blends in with everyone else in that cohort. In this case, however, it's more real: photoshopping technology for the average consumer user is now available. 

There is a film crew that follows Victor around. The film crew may or may not be imagined. 

There is hardcore sex and violence, which may only be in this and AP. Ellis does drop into the genres of both "erotic fiction" (several scenes, though one more drawn out and vaguely surprising) and "torture porn" (which he arguably created in AP, which would soon be capitalized upon by an entire generation of horror filmmakers). Sometimes we can get lurid on Flying Houses but I feel it may be best not to excerpt one of these, as they are not particularly interesting.  But yes, Ellis is capable of working in these genres if he wants to. 

There is the comedie humaine element to his oeuvre, which is blended with the mistaken identity trope and his own personal semi-autobiographical wink-winks, most particularly in the character of Christian Bale/Russell. 

***

It is worth a brief excursion into Christian Bale's career to properly understand his role in this novel, because quite clearly, he is the one celebrity that plays a more meaningful role. (Both Joaquin and River Phoenix and Skeet Ulrich would be the others, but Bale actually moves the plot forward.)

Now everyone knows that American Psycho (2000) was Christian Bale's breakout role, and many people know that he was also a child actor, notably in Empire of the Sun (1987) and Newsies (1992). He had other small roles, but gained more widespread recognition after notable roles in Little Women (1994) and Pocahontas (1995--voice work, but a key character) and then having his biggest role yet as an adult in Velvet Goldmine (1998), which is an odd film but somewhat required viewing for so-called cinephiles, as it is a Todd Haynes film. (Bale would later play one of the iterations of Bob Dylan for Haynes in I'm Not There, which is a slightly better movie, though Cate Blanchett steals it as she tends to do.) 

But in 1998, he was likely most famous for his casting as Patrick Bateman. The film's development was closely watched by people in the industry (or say, young aspiring filmmakers teetering on 17) because AP was such a controversial novel and so any adaptation of it would be controversial too. Early reports reflected an NC-17 rating, which is terrible for commercial prospects but alluring to those not able to get into the theater (see also Requiem for a Dream). Ultimately while the film was not an enormous success (few adaptations are), it was widely seen, and I think people look back on it and see an Oscar-worthy performance, because Bale completely owns it and kills it. It's not surprising that he has won multiple Oscars since. 

And of course, BEE must be very well apprised of the status of the film, must have met Bale, must have known that Bale would make or break AP the film, and he was writing Glamorama throughout the course of that film's development:

"Behind us, walking out of the front entrance of the apartment on Avenue Verdier, are Palakon, Delta, Crater--all in overcoats and sunglasses--without the Japanese man. They maneuver past us, walking purposefully down the block, conferring with one another. Jamie barely notices them since she's preoccupied with staring at Russell. But the director stops walking towards me and stares at Palakon as he passes by, and something in the director's face tightens and he worriedly glances back at me and then once more at Palakon.
'It's a favor,' [teaching Victor French] Russell says, putting on Diesel sunglasses. 'I'm between roles, so it's cool.'
'He's between roles,' I'm saying. 'He's waiting for a good part. One worthy of his skills.'
'Listen, I gotta split,' Russell says. 'I'll talk to you later, man. Nice meeting you, Jamie.'
'Yeah,' Jamie says tentatively. 'You too, Christian.'
'Peace,' he says, moving off. 'Victor, I'll be in touch. Au revoir.'" (433) 

There are also a lot of drugs in this novel, as with any Ellis novel, and so blending in this weird version of reality with Bale who may or may not be a double agent or just a doppelganger (to say nothing of the 1-2 film crews that are making a movie tracking the plot of the novel), adds to the hazy sense that Ellis was reflecting on the reality of his experience as an aging wunderkind (this was published as he turned 35, which is not old but felt older back then) and that he was completely zonked out while writing it and it's super messy and sloppy and doesn't hold together and is mostly just there to make the reader go "WTF" in the same way as AP, both novel and film. But that's not a charitable view. This novel is better than that, but like I said, difficult to wholeheartedly recommend.

***

If one takes the novel seriously, the comparisons to Tom Wolfe and Don DeLillo on the front cover are not unreasonable. In a way, this is the anti-Underworld, and also vaguely predicts 9/11, and includes Semtex as a plot device. Many historical figures are depicted, but DeLillo's work is more realist than fabulist. 

It's not a spoiler to say that Victor gets involved in international terrorism and espionage, and perhaps its unfair to say the novel becomes more pedestrian once the plot becomes apparent, because that is also when it starts to resemble a "page-turner." This novel took me forever to read this time, months and months. Of course my personal life affected it, but I read it much more quickly in 2004, perhaps because I was anxious to write a novel that could mimic Ellis and get noticed and start an actual career doing something that is ostensibly very exciting and personally rewarding. I guess this time I just didn't care as much, and while it's not like 2023 is vastly different from 2004, it sort of is. In 2004, this was still Ellis's latest work, and many of the celebrities had not shifted in their cultural weight. 

Now, Ellis is preparing to release a new novel, and since we have basically covered his entire oeuvre here, it is inevitable that it will show up here soon. (Actually, this novel is coming out in two days--I swear this wasn't planned!) Ellis has been "problematic" for about 30 years, but White revealed him to be problematic in the "woke-era," and so it will be interesting to see how "controversial" people consider The Shards. 

Is Glamorama his best novel? No, in this critic's opinion, that is still Less Than Zero, much as I'd like to say this is his best. I wanted to like the novel more. Frankly, it annoyed me a bit this time around. I didn't care as much. I even remember liking Part 2 (the whole cruise ship voyage) much better the first time. Once the plot kicked in (I said 200 pages above, but it's probably around page 400 that you have a better idea of what's going on---though again, Part 6 of the book also tears down that understanding), I plowed through more of it, but I couldn't love any real element of it beyond the semi-autobiography and literary experimentation. I love the bold swings it takes, I admire them, but it only briefly felt satisfying, and in those moments I wanted to care most about the characters, they are revealed to be just another part of the film that is geared towards getting an emotional response out of the reader/viewer.

I wanted to excerpt a passage that illustrates this, and I wanted to mention the use of "Champagne Supernova" in the novel and question whether Paul Weller really is a contributor to that track, but instead will just say that I appreciate Ellis for opening up that curiosity, and feel it is appropriate to post this now, because we do care a little bit about remaining relevant here, even when there are six months between reviews. And yes: this should still be made into a movie, but now it will have to be a period piece--and that's not a bad thing for this author. 

Bonsai - Alejandro Zambra (2006) (Transl. Megan McDowell)

It's been a while, but we finally have a new guest contributor. David Caves is an attorney and avid reader of foreign and independently published books. He's responsible in part for the recommendation of A Little Life, and getting me deeper into Goodreads. His tastes are not mainstream, and he often reads books that I have never heard of before. As such, he is a perfect contributor for Flying Houses. I deeply appreciate his participation and look forward to future collaborations.

Bonsai came to me, as most books do these days, in the mail, this one courtesy of my subscription to Fitzcarraldo Editions. Bonsai (Bonsái in the original Spanish) is Alejandro Zambra’s first novel, but I previously read his more recent Chilean Poet (Poeta chileno) a few months back when it came out over the summer in a splashy edition from Viking. Chilean Poet had almost turned me off Zambra entirely – more on that below – but Zambra has an enviable reputation as a literary stylist, particularly for his earlier work. Bonsai is also, attractively, 74 pages – the perfect length for a novel, in my book – and so I was willing to give it a go. 

Zambra’s reputation, of course, is more than as an enviable literary stylist. He’s one of those writers people love to hate. Everyone seems to have their own critique of Zambra but, I suspect, Zambra’s reputation is largely a function of the way he has managed to straddle the line between literary and commercial fiction, praised by critics while simultaneously enjoying international commercial success. 

 

My trepidation with Zambra is probably due to the fact that Chilean Poet was the first book of his that I’d read. By the time Poeta chileno was published in 2020, Zambra already had four novels under his belt, two of his works had seen film adaptations, and he clearly enjoys a sterling reputation among critics. Poeta chileno was rapidly translated into English by Megan McDowell and published in the U.S. by Viking Press, an imprint of Penguin Random House, and displayed on the front table of bookstores nationwide. That’s as close to a red carpet rollout as translated fiction is ever going to see in North America. 

 

Alas, there was nothing innovative or interesting about the 350+ page Chilean Poet. It’s overlong and bulky, and clearly Zambra’s effort to go mainstream. The joke is that Zambra wrote it because he had a mortgage to pay. It reminded me a bit of Sally Rooney’s work – a novel very much of the here and now, focused on hetero relationships stripped of idealism and romanticism, and popular with the type of young adults who read novels on public transit. It was also self-satisfied and willing to break the fourth wall, albeit in a way that turned me off rather than pulled me in. 

 

Bonsai, though, is where Zambra’s reputation began. Bonsái was published in 2006 and only came to English in 2008 through the then-unknown Carolina De Robertis and indie press Melville House Publishing. The opening paragraph (below in the new McDowell translation) tells us everything we need to know about the story and is quintessential Zambra: 

 

In the end she dies and he is alone, although really he had been alone for some years before her death, before Emilia’s death. Let’s say her name is or was Emilia and that his name is, was, and will be Julio. Julio and Emilia. In the end Emilia dies and Julio does not. The rest is literature[.] 

 

I say this is quintessential Zambra because it has so many of his hallmarks. It is about a hetero relationship. It is willing to upend convention in the opening sentence, informing us Emilia dies in the end. It is also smug and self-aggrandizing, telling us that what follows – his first novel! – is literature. 

 

If what follows is literature, then it’s a rather bourgeois type of literature and not at all the kind I like to read. Emilia and Julio are, at the start, young lovers who are very much in love with each other, themselves, and books. Marcel Proust is name-dropped in the first chapter, and before we reach the end of the second chapter, we’ve also been treated to Rubén Darío, Marcel Schwob, Yukio Mishima, Georges Perec, Juan Carlos Onetti, Raymond Carver, Ted Hughes, Tomas Tranströmer, Armando Uribe, Kurt Folch, Friedrich Nietzsche, Emil Cioran, Jorge Luis Borges, Adolfo Bioy Casares, Silvina Ocampo, and Macedonio Fernández. I stopped keeping track after page 27. 

 

There’s more to Bonsai than a litany of writers, of course. We also learn the ins and outs of the sex lives of our teenage protagonists, a subject I found more than a bit banal. I’d like to think it picks up from there, and in a way it does. On page 65 we get a drawing of a bonsai tree. 

 

De Robertis was an interesting choice to bring Bonsai into English in 2008. These days she is a celebrated author in her own right, but in 2008 she had yet to publish her first novel. I see from her wikipedia page that she has translated a handful of works since Bonsai, but I suspect it may have been the first long-form work of fiction that she translated. 

 

The rest of Zambra’s novels – The Private Life of Trees, Ways of Going Home, Multiple Choice, and Chilean Poet – have been translated by Megan McDowell. McDowell, in contrast to De Robertis, is a highly sought after career translator, an American who lives in Chile. McDowell has not only translated the bulk of Zambra’s output, she has also translated most of Samanta Schweblin’s work and plenty of other contemporary South American writers. 

 

The version of Bonsai I have from Fitzcarraldo is a new translation courtesy of McDowell. It’s a bit odd to see two competing English translations to a work of contemporary fiction, as the De Robertis remains very much in print. I suppose McDowell wants to be a Zambra completist, which isn’t what I’d choose to do with my life, but hardly the worst thing I suppose. 

 

Snarkiness aside, the McDowell translation is a winner. Critic Paul Fulcher has compared the translations of one of the more challenging paragraphs, which yields startlingly different results. 

 

The original passage: 

 

Poco antes de enredarse con Julio, Emilia había decidido que en adelante follaría, como los españoles, ya no haría el amor con nadie, ya no tiraría o se metería con alguien, ni mucho menos culearía o culiaría. Este es un problema chileno, dijo Emilia, entonces, a Julio, con una soltura que solo le nada en la oscuridad, y en voz muy baja, desde luego: Este es un problema de los chilenos jóvenes, somos demasiado jóvenes para hacer el amor, y en Chile si no haces el amor solo puedes culear o culiar, pero a mí no me gustaría culiar o culear contigo, preferiría que folláramos, como en España. 

 

DeRobertis: 

 

Shortly before getting involved with Julio, Emilia had decided that from now on she would follar, as the Spanish do, she would no longer make love with anyone, she would not screw or bone anybody, and much less would she fuck. This is a Chilean problem, Emilia said, then, to Julio, with an ease that only came to her in the darkness, and in a very low voice, of course: This is a problem for Chilean youth, we're too young to make love, and in Chile if you don't make love you can only fuck, but it would be disagreeable to fuck you, I'd prefer it if we shagged, si follaramos, as they do in Spain. 

 

McDowell: 

 

Not long before she got mixed up with Julio, Emilia had decided that from then on she was going to fuck — what the Spanish call 'foliar' — and she would no longer make love with anyone or hook up with anyone, much less would she screw, or 'culiar', as a Chilean would say. This is a Chilean problem, Emilia said to Julio, with a boldness she only displayed in the dark — though in a very low voice, of course: This is the problem with young Chileans. We're too young to make love, and in Chile, if you don't make love you can only culiar, but I don't want to screw you, I'd rather follar, I'd rather fuck you like they do in Spain. 

 

To my ear, I like the McDowell translation because it captures the cadence and tone of the original. It also makes the most sense of the competing words for “fuck.” It’s interesting that both translators choose to leave one or two words untranslated, perhaps a nod to multilingual readers who can be trusted to form their own conclusions about the passage. 

 

All this is interesting enough and these nuances held my attention for 74 pages. I can’t say that I’m a Zambra fan now. In fact, the experience of reading Bonsai irretrievably cemented my dislike of his output. Part of me hopes that his effort to go mainstream with Chilean Poet is a flop and he returns to the style of his earlier, more innovative work. But in a world where I have many other books I want to read, I probably won’t read any more Zambra so it really doesn’t matter to me what he does next. 

Chicago Cubs 2022 Year in Review

There is very little for me to say about the Cubs this year. This is because I basically stopped paying attention sometime in July, and really June. I only went to one game this year - June 4th versus the Cardinals - and by that point I had already been thinking that the season was over, unless they swept the series and showed signs of turning it around. They didn't, so really you could say I just paid attention in April and May. 

Because of this I'm not sure it's prudent to give out a report card. But I can say, for the franchise, overall, this year gets a C-

C- because they brought on Marcus Stroman and Seiya Suzuki. And because there were apparently bright spots after I stopped paying attention. 

Mainly this seems to have come in the pitching. While he had something of a rocky start, Stroman ultimately performed as expected, leading the team in innings pitched, and turning in a solid season. Keegan Thompson and Justin Steele emerged as two reliable pitchers that are entering their prime. 

I don't really know what happened with Kyle Hendricks. It seems he must have gotten injured. It was unfortunately his worst season with the Cubs, I think most can agree. We all have to hope that the old Kyle will return in 2023. 

If he does, they've got a solid rotation. So that's a big piece of the puzzle. They had a great closer in David Robertson, and he did what he could and showcased his wares before being traded to a better team that is actually willing to spend money (the Phillies). Actually, tonight he will be playing against the Cardinals in the wild-card game. [Ed: And as of the date of this post, they could advance to the NLCS today with a win over the Braves---by the way, has the NLDS always been a best of 5? Because I thought it was best of 7...]

The main story with the players was Willson Contreras, who along with Kyle Hendricks represented the last of the 2016 squad (and Jason Heyward, too). Maybe Hendricks was injured, I'm not sure. Heyward was released, and it seems as though he will not play for the Cubs in the last year of his contract and so does that mean he gets paid for not playing? He did what he could and he will be remembered for his contributions. I don't think it played out the way most people were hoping it would. Contrast that signing with Jon Lester's, and you have one of the best transactions and one of the worst transactions right around the same time. But Willson came up through the Cubs farm system and proved himself to be one of the team's greatest stars. I can't speculate about what is going to happen with him. I would not be surprised if he is playing for another team next year. I hope the Cubs decide to keep him for the remainder of his career but I don't really see it happening. 

Nico Hoerner pretty much showed up this year and lived up to the pseudo-hype. Ian Happ played reasonably well. Frank Schwindel did not, unfortunately, and I think he was released. 

Christopher Morel was amazing, I remember paying attention to him, and I think he ended up playing O.K. except his batting average dropped. Suzuki was extremely exciting at the beginning of the season too, but he was injured for a bit, and ended with merely decent stats.

The general consensus seems to be that the Cubs hit some kind of stride, almost like a mini-Atlanta Braves of 2021. After the All-Star break, they went through a certain period where they played better than any other team in the MLB. For like two or three weeks, I think. So that was something. 

***

Jed Hoyer delivered a press conference on Monday, 10/9/22. He confirmed that they would make a qualifying offer to Willson Contreras. The general feeling is that it will be a lowball offer and will be rejected. I can't profess to know enough about the team to guess what they will do at the catcher position, but Yan Gomes was a reliable back-up option this year. I do know Miguel Amaya has been hyped, for years, and also beset by injuries. In short, if we lose Willson, it will be difficult to replace him. Frankly, he is irreplaceable. 

Since we mentioned Gomes, and he is in this picture, it is appropriate. But we really need to talk about Kyle.

Now anyone that has read these updates going back to 2015 or 2014 knows that Kyle Hendricks has always been one of my favorite players on the team. He has been solid. For years. In 2016, do you remember, Arrieta, Lester and Hendricks? Hendricks finished ahead of Lester for the Cy Young, and led the MLB in ERA. No one really knew about him back then, and still, after everything, he never has made the All-Star team. This is just Kyle's way. He starts slow. In April and May, he starts slow, he is imperfect. But he rights the ship, and he finishes the year putting up numbers consistent with his role as the Ace on the team.

Of course, when we had Yu Darvish, he took something of a backseat, but I believe he was still #1 in the rotation. Now that we have Marcus Stroman, he is in a similar position, and unfortunately, after his performance not only this year, but also last year, I would be surprised if he is the Opening Day starter and not Stroman. 

Kyle signed an extension a few years ago that kept him locked up until 2023, so he will be with the team next year (though at the present moment, he has not thrown a baseball for a while, as he has been injured). Nobody considered this a bad idea, and I still don't. Kyle is still pretty young, and in his prime years. Pitchers can still be amazing as they age. Adam Wainwright was still very effective this year, and nobody can claim that Justin Verlander has lost a step. (Relatedly, nobody considered the failure to get Verlander when they had the opportunity a good idea.) 

The Cubs literally could have done almost anything in 2017 and 2018 and 2019 to be big-time competitors. Yu Darvish was a big move, but beyond that, they didn't want to mess with their core, not until 2021. 2020 was a very strange season, but we did finish in 1st place. They were still good in 2021 up until the end of May. 

This year? We sucked, so bad, until they had already given up on the season, and it became a "futures showcase," and then they played surprisingly well, for a time. Ironically, they beat the Phillies every single time this season, and now the Phillies are a Cinderella story (and make no mistake that I am rooting for them, with Schwarber and Castellanos together in their outfield as they should still be on the Cubs).

Nico Hoerner emerged. He has been emerging for years. He has gone back and forth as being a bust and as living up to his potential. It seems clear, after 2022, that he has lived up to his potential and "figured it out," for lack of a better phrase. He led the team in batting average. He actually hit for a higher average in 2021 (over .300), but he played in 3 times as many games this year, and finished at .281. 

Now, this shows a problem with the team: your best hitter should be hitting better than .281. Regardless, Nico is that guy. Disciplined at the plate, an above-average fielder, and versatile as either a shortstop or second baseman, Nico is likely to play a significant role on the 2023 team, as a borderline everyday starting player (135 games this year, and he also got 135 hits).

This is complicated by the recent revelation of Carlos Correa leaving the Twins and opting out of his contract there. Correa has explicitly spoken about his desire to play with the Cubs. Correa is frequently cited as the biggest star free agent available. If the Cubs go after Correa, they will send the signal that they are very serious. 

If the Cubs signed Correa this off-season, it would be like signing Jon Lester in 2015. We do not expect to necessarily get anywhere in 2023, but we could very easily make a surprise run to the NLCS, if the pieces fell into place in the way they did in 2015 (unlikely, however, that you will have someone like Arrieta step up and go on one of the most torrid stretches for any pitcher in baseball history--that was 2015, right?). 

However, if the Cubs are truly going to compete, they need more than just Correa. They need another pitcher, too.  

We did get this guy. Is Stroman comparable to Jon Lester? Way too early to say. You can't quite put them in the same category, as Lester is a borderline Hall of Famer, and beginning to be recognized as the greatest free agent signing in franchise history. But Stroman has been very good, and while he did not have a great supporting cast, his numbers at the end of the year are satisfactory, given the ostensibly weak run support. With Stroman and Hendricks, you have two of the great "ground ball pitchers" of today, and they are solid, solid rotation guys (presuming that Hendricks has not gone off a cliff for good---and knowing Kyle, that will not be the case). You do need to round out that rotation, and Justin Steele is likely going to be part of that rotation. For the last two slots, that remains to be seen. Drew Smyly was probably above-average for this team, and Keegan Thompson has shown flashes of greatness, though it remains to be seen if he is more valuable as a reliever or a starter. You could just go with Stroman/Hendricks/Steele/Smyly/Thompson or Adrian Sampson or Alzolay (again), but I think you need at least one star pitcher to add to that rotation. This post isn't going to lay out all the best options for the team, but is Verlander available? Because I would totally go for him again if he is, even in the twilight of his 30's. Given that he may win the Cy Young this year, I seriously doubt he will be going anywhere. 

In terms of relievers, however, I will always support Jeremy Jeffress, and highly suggest the Cubs take another chance on him. Just invite him to Spring Training! That is all I ask.

 

 

We really need another hitter, though. We did get this guy, and in the first couple weeks of the season, he was totally on fire and basically looked good in every single one of his plate appearances. No one could be expected to remain that consistent throughout the entire season, and injuries compromised Suzuki's overall performance. Regardless, I do not think anyone considers this a bad move. They did not get Shohei Ohtani (though they possibly could have, it is best not to cry over spilt milk) but they got Suzuki, and you have to figure that he will be an everyday starting player. He would have shared time with Jason Heyward, but Heyward will not be playing for the Cubs in 2023. No one considers that a good move, but we all still will always be appreciative of the contributions Jason made to the enterprise. Sometimes you have players that don't do much in terms of numbers, but play an indispensable role on the team. 

(Recall, for example, Jack Haley on the Chicago Bulls rosters with Dennis Rodman. Haley did not really play--he might have played a few minutes each season--but he was Dennis Rodman's friend, and Dennis Rodman played better knowing Jack Haley was on the bench. So sometimes players that make no statistical impact actually make a huge impact behind the scenes.)

So we have talked about the rotation, for which we need at least 1 high-quality starter, possibly 2. 

In the field, it plays out like this:

C- Willson/Yan Gomes (for now--and I do not think anyone would complain if it stays this way.)

1B - ? 

2B - ?
SS - Nico Hoerner

3B - Patrick Wisdom

RF - Seiya Suzuki

CF - Christopher Morel

LF - Ian Happ

You see I don't really know enough about the team. David Bote is able to play some of those positions. But I think you need another outfielder, too. You already know who I think would have been great (they are both on the Phillies). There must be a fair number of players out there that would be serviceable in these roles. But, let's say they get Correa. If they get him, I think they still need another star hitter. 

DH is now part of the NL. I keep forgetting that. Also, next year, every single team will play every single other team, which most people think is cool, so far as I have heard. 

I would take a flyer on Nelson Cruz. He did not do well on the Nationals this year, and his career may finally have reached its endpoint, but I would at the very least, give him a shot at Spring Training. He would be very low-cost, and could potentially stage a comeback and add more power coming off the bench. 

The best part of the year was when Christopher Morel made his debut. He reached safely in the first 14 games of his MLB career, which was a record for the franchise. The Cubs were always looking for a real leadoff hitter, since Dexter left us, and there were many interesting experiments (Rizzo still the greatest) but Morel-Contreras 1-2 in the lineup was brilliant. Javier Baez was gone but Christopher Morel arrived. They're not quite the same players but Morel's energy seemed just as infectious with his teammates. He is not, say, Juan Soto, but I think most people that watched the team last year would not object to his appearing in the opening day lineup. 

***

There's not much more I can say other than provide a list of targets the team should pursue (apart from Jeffress and Cruz, and hoping they will make a competitive offer to Contreras):

(1) Carlos Correa

(2) Justin Verlander (more realistic than De Grom) (I would trust for a 2 year contract, assuming Verlander is Brady-like, as they share a similar sleep regimen and have supermodel wives*.) 

(3) Anthony Rizzo (he belongs here, and everyone knows it; same goes for KB and Javy.)

(4) Trea Turner

(5) Gary Sanchez (as backup/option when Contreras is DH)

(6) Luis Severino

(7) Andrew Chafin + Craig Kimbrel

Get those guys, and you can go for the World Series in 2023. That is a fantasy, and the team is more likely to go for younger players in the hopes of going, realistically and sustainably, in 2024 until say, 2027. Whether it comes off remains to be seen. I'll certainly pay attention come April, and we can all hope that Summer 2023 will be more fun than Summer 2022. 

*I've been informed that Gisele and Tom Brady are getting divorced. I'm sorry for their struggles, and boldly predict that Tom Brady's best days are, now, actually, behind him. I do not think anyone properly weights the value of a strong and supportive spouse. 

A Little Life - Hanya Yanagihara (2015)

melodrama
NOUN
a sensational dramatic piece with exaggerated characters and exciting events intended to appeal to the emotions. 

see also, A Little Life. 

I met someone who had recently finished her Ph.D. in English and I asked if she had read this. I told her I was going to write a positive review, but tear it apart, because there was so much in it that annoyed me. I told her it was a melodrama. She said she eventually found it funny, because she began to look at it as an experimental novel, in which the author was doing everything she possibly could to pile it on and write the most depressing book of all time. But she also liked it.

Oeuvre rule: I haven't read anything else by Yanagihara. This book references The People in the Trees prominently on its front cover, but she has a new novel out, To Paradise, published this year. She also edited anthologies of stories about roommates, bridesmaids, and first jobs.

"Why I read it rule": I first became aware of this book when my younger sister received it from Santa Claus on Christmas morning, either 2015 or 2016. We did not discuss it in any detail. Later, I saw a friend on Facebook reference it in a re-post of something off Tumblr, to make some other joke about depression (i.e. self-deprecating). Then finally, two friends recommended it during a discussion about soliciting reviews from other contributors for Flying Houses. I promised to read A Little Life if they promised to contribute a review. So now it is their turn. 

The plot? Well, this is going to be one of those reviews with an asterisked section for spoilers. And the part above the asterisks will be short. 

The novel concerns four friends and their evolving friendship over the course of five decades. These are Jude, Willem, Malcolm, and J.B. Except it's not really about the four of them. It's about the four of them for about the first 100 pages. (I'll set the spoiler cut-off point around page 400). 

There are not very many chapters or even sub-chapters or page breaks in this book, and for 720 pages, it's pretty easy to describe. 

Except the first 100 pages are more interesting, because it charts how the novel could have gone in a different direction. That is, it begins as a dovetailing narrative, with sections from the perspective of each of the four characters. They go through this cycle once or twice, and then focus almost exclusively two of the characters, along with other ancillary characters at random points. 

We know a fair amount about J.B. and Malcolm, but not nearly as much as we do about Willem and Jude. And while it seemed at first the novel would be equally split between the four of them, it then effectively does away with J.B. and Malcolm and relegates them to supporting cast. This may be because they are not as interesting, but by the end of this novel, you will wish that there had been more "breathers" of chapter/section breaks returning to J.B. or Malcolm. It does this once, memorably, when J.B. is in an abusive drug-fueled relationship and suffers a breakdown, and then makes fun of Jude in a grotesque way from a hospital bed. 

Jude does not ever want to forgive J.B. for doing this, and Willem certainly never would forgive him, either. I forgot how Malcolm felt about it, maybe he recognized that J.B. wasn't in the best state of mind and immediately deeply regretted what he had said and apologized, so it was OK to stay friends with him. Anyway, it is at this point where the group of four breaks off into a group of three, and really, a group of two. It was also at this point that I thought the novel became too sensitive for its own good. (Or perhaps that became clear in pages 200-300, when we hear so much about how so many people care so much about Jude and all of their inspirational speeches on the subject.)

Now I did not know anything about this book, really, going into it. Just the basic idea and that a few people recommended it. Around the time I reached the chapter "The Axiom of Equality," I met with one of the three friends that recommended it, and asked if it got any better from that point. She said it did not. 

Question: what does "better" mean in the context of this novel? More entertaining? Less extreme? (The extremity is purposeful, that much is clear.) A nice story about nice characters? Well, yes, and the chapter of "The Happy Years" is effectively that (but not really). At a certain point for a certain sort of novel, how quickly you finish it in a relatively satisfied state becomes the criterion by which "better" is measured. It's already an engaging book, it's something of a page-turner, but then again, it really is just a parade of horribles. You will want to be finished with this book by the time it ends, I think. 

J.B. is black and an artist who takes photographs and makes paintings out of them, among other mediums. Malcolm is black (half-black? I forget because there's barely anything about him in here comparatively) and his family is rich and he will never need to worry about money but he wants to be an architect and he builds little models of houses for his friends. Both of them have families in or around New York City, and so they are able to stay there to avoid paying the ridiculous rent. J.B.'s family is not as rich as Malcolm's, but they are not living in poverty. 

The other two characters are white (basically). One of them seems relatively empty-headed and is ridiculously good looking and is a struggling actor for a while but eventually starts seeing his star rise. The other one is disabled, but not really, just maimed and utterly traumatized/broken, enters college early, goes to law school, (does he get a PhD in Math, too?), excels at everything, and has a great gig at the U.S. Attorney's Office after doing a clerkship (I think).   

These are Willem and Jude and 90% of the novel is probably devoted to them. But the four of them are super close and love each other. They meet in college at a school in Massachusetts, which I eventually began to code as Harvard. I'm pretty sure Willem goes to Yale with J.B. for graduate school, too. Pretty sure Jude stays and goes to Harvard Law School. And yet they are struggling at the beginning of the novel, comparatively, in their mid-20's. Jude will always be struggling despite his professional achievements. But none of the other three have especially achieved anything at that point.

And so, the novel at this point (maybe page 200) has an amusing quality about it with occasional flashes of intrigue. It could have kept going like this and potentially done something much more interesting. I mean, you still could have made it all about Willem and Jude (and really, let's be honest, if 90% of the novel is about the two of them, 85% of the novel is about Jude, and it seems clear from the beginning that he is the real protagonist). But you could have kept the dovetailing narratives going, you could even make them shorter. You wouldn't even have to be super consistent; you could just do it a few times to break up the relative monotony that the novel then becomes. 

Willem had a younger brother that was disabled and eventually died at a very young age and he has a very icy relationship with his parents perhaps due in part to their extreme religious views, so we know that he has a certain instinct to want to take care of someone. He is basically perfect. He never does anything wrong. Never. Maybe he cheats on a girlfriend, I forget, but I don't think so. This is another "extreme" quality of the book. Yanagihara may be making some sort of statement with the book, the extremity of it lends it an air unreality, turning it almost into satire or parody, and this has to be intentional. 

Because we wouldn't really want to get into the complexity of Willem's feelings. It is easier to have him be simple-minded. We certainly get the full panoply and range of Jude's emotions and thoughts. And in fact, these three people that recommended the book to me, I am not sure, perhaps they did not know at all that I once wrote a [second] novel [not available as a link on this blog] about self-harm, self-mutilation, and you know what, the parallels are a little unsettling, but I also could not write about self-harm quite like Yanagihara does here. Say you what you will about this novel but her description of the various bloody scenes of cutting as well as the mentality that drives one towards that kind of compulsive behavior is expert. 

Technically, this is a very good novel. However, one sees several ways it could have been much better. And yet, taking it to full fruition may have taken several hundred more pages. And so it ends in a place that feels a bit premature, still, but as noted earlier, not too soon.

***SPOILERS BELOW****

I recently read a piece from The New Yorker that seemed to confirm a lot of my impressions about this novel, and also give me new ways of thinking about it. That being said, I tend to side with Daniel Mendelsohn's interpretation rather than Garth Greenwell's. This is not the Great Gay American Novel. No, there are a few of them, probably, and the newest one is The Great Believers (even though it's "basic" because its narrative is framed around the AIDS crisis). I am not here to tell you how gay people are, or that they are all different, and Yanagihara is not trying to write a realistic novel, but the temporal aspect of the novel confused me.

It seems to take place in no time or space. There are no references to the world as we know it. Nothing about 9/11 in NYC. All of the movies that Willem does and all of the other artists he meets do not reference any works that influenced them or previous actors. Everything is coated in a vague patina. I get this. This is intentional. This is a novel about interior lives. 

And also, sometimes you do not want to say the thing explicitly so the reader can sense for themselves what you meant, or they can do the research and figure it out and have the easter egg "solved" on their own. Because sometimes if you just say what the thing is explictly, it minimizes it, it makes it more quotidian and less meaningful. To pin something down is to complete the analysis and define it, negating any further mystery or meaning to be harvested from the expression.

Then again maybe it's not fair for me to say that people who had cell phones and texted during college would not have any sort of sexual identity crisis because social mores dictated relatively widespread acceptance of same-sex desire in the same era (even though this novel isn't realistic, it has to take place at least partly in the future). Then again none of these characters has a sexual identity crisis (except Malcolm, the only "straight" friend in the group, who briefly thinks he might be bi). Greenwell thought it was the great gay novel because of the very reason noted at the top of this review: it is a melodrama par excellence, which is a classic queer expression. Mendelsohn felt it was regressive because it showed that gay people deserved to be punished for having good lives (yes, The Great Believers could be seen as regressive for a similar reason--or at least mining the tense relationship between sex and death in that community--but that book was kinder to its characters, and realistic). I don't agree with either of them. I just think it's the straightest gay novel there is, or the gayest straight novel there is. And really, I don't think it needs to be viewed through this lens at all.

Would I have identified with the novel as much as a woman? I think I would. Even though it is tied to rather specific forms of abuse and trauma, they cut across all genders, identities and orientations. There is no tension about "coming out," except briefly after Willem and Jude become an item, and he has to come to terms with being known as a "gay actor" and fears of being pigeonholed. Over the first 100 or 200 pages, I felt there was something "off" about the way male friendship was depicted. These four friends are obsessed with one another and don't seem to have much interest in hooking up or dating anyone. I could say I had a few friendships like this in high school or college, but I don't think any of us wouldn't have balked at spending like, 100% of our time together. But the novel isn't meant to be realistic. This group of friends is more like a family.

A good example is how Willem and Jude live together in Lispenard Street. Certainly, there are situations where two people share a one-bedroom apartment, but there is usually the barrier of a living room arrangement for one of them. This does eventually become the case for them, but they seem to have no problem sleeping together in separate beds for years, there is no existential panic that they are getting older and settling into this pseudo-gay arrangement as if it is the only future they wish to have. 

And so, when the "big reveal" happens, it was a bit of a relief for me. Okay. They were not all too precious with one another. It made more sense. Still, it doesn't make as much sense for Willem. Casual reference is made to his sleeping with both men and women, but nothing in the entire novel up to that point had suggested that was the case. It feels a bit like the relationship is shoe-horned into the narrative.

Because what is the difference between friendship and a relationship? This is one of the Big Questions that the novel is actually very good at examining (though as noted it doesn't play into these existential, time-running-out concerns--except when Harold points out that Willem is almost 30, and questions what he is waiting for). How important is sex to a relationship? Obviously, if it is sexless, an arrangement can be made, and here, it is an easy and simple arrangement that doesn't lead to any sort of jealousies. How does sex complicate a friendship? Obviously, it can lead to ambiguities as to status, conflicting views on it, and it can potentially derail that friendship and test its limits. This isn't an FWB situation between Willem and Jude. This is different. And I guess, even though I found it completely ridiculous, I accept it. It makes sense in the context of the novel. Willem needs to take care of someone, and Jude needs someone to take care of him (several people, actually). 

That's the main spoiler, I think. Of course, Jude's whole story is something that gets spoiled by basically anything written about this book, so I have tried to avoid that above, though I said the cutting made better sense. What happened to him is about as horrible as anything anyone could ever have possibly experienced growing up. (In that New Yorker article linked above, Yanagihara acknowledges that she wanted the novel to feel like a "piling on," and she certainly achieved that.)  It does devolve into "torture porn," and yet how could it not, once a writer decides to go there. Does it say something about me if I say these were the most gripping sections of the book? They are obviously the hardest to read, but they are also the fastest to read. Maybe it's because the rest of the book feels somewhat "antiseptic," and that works, too, because Jude's entire life after age 15 is an exercise in attempted antisepsis. Anyone that has been ravaged by early childhood trauma will undoubtedly find comfort in its exhortations on the nature of memory-repression and the impossibility of wiping certain memories from the mind (though doesn't electroshock therapy accomplish that goal?). The descriptive power of these scenes is unmistakable. 

We have no excerpts in this review, but we will bring back the 420 Test. Spoiler alert: it fails, and page 420 happens to be one of the more disturbing pages:

"The brother still talked of their being together, although now he talked of a house on the sea, somewhere in central California, and would describe the stony beaches, the noisy birds, the storm-colored water. They would be together, the two of them, like a married couple. No longer were they father and son; now they were equals. When he turned sixteen, they would get married. They would go on a honeymoon to France and Germany, where he could finally use his languages around French and Germans, and to Italy and Spain, where Brother Luke had lived for two years: once as a student, once the year after he graduated college. They would buy him a piano so he could play and sing. 'Other people won't want you if they knew how many clients you'd been with,' the Brother said. 'And they'd be silly to not want you. But I'll always want you, even if you've been with ten thousand clients.' He would retire when he was sixteen, Brother Luke said, and he had cried then, quietly, because he had been counting up the days until he was twelve, when Brother Luke had promised he could stop." (420) 

There's the other major spoiler, which comes around page 600, I think. That's probably the True Spoiler. And of course, it is another blatant instance of emotional manipulation. There is some unease concerning the nature of the "happy ending," because that is not always realistic. In this case, the "unhappy" ending does seem to fit into the themes of the novel, but I would not have complained one bit if this novel had a more conventional happy ending. You could still have the emotionally manipulative death trope, but you could also depict emotional growth. As it is, it seems to stand for the proposition that people do not change. Whether you agree that people change or that people do not change, it is depressing to think that people do not change. I prefer to think the opposite. And for all of the veritable metaphorical mountains that Jude has to scale--which he does, at an incredibly high level of success--it's a little unbelievable that he never is able to conquer his trauma, that with dozens of characters shouting at him that he is not a bad person, that he is not completely damaged goods (though only a couple know the specifics), he can never believe that for himself. I'm sorry, but eventually, after enough time, it feels incredible that one cannot forgive oneself for what was done to them, when there is zero question on the assignment of victimhood. A lot of people really love this character but by the end of the novel I just wanted to slap him and say, "snap out of it!" and did not feel much sadness at the very end.

This is a complicated part of the novel, too, because it seems to permit suicide under appropriate circumstances. That makes it all feel rather hopeless. Truly, if Jude had nothing to offer the world, no money, felt horribly disfigured and suffered chronic (physical) pain, then it would be more palatable. But I simply cannot accept that he would not live on and try to do good in the world, work against some of the evils that had destroyed his early life. But this is the easier way to end the novel. It's already too long as it is. 

And for something as long as it is, we could do a little bit better on character development. Asian Henry Young is maybe explained once, and he becomes a lifelong friend, one of the "acquaintances" that are included in the bigger circle of friends beyond the four. So is someone named Phaedra. A couple of the other random people (Citizen, Rhodes) are co-workers of Jude's at the U.S. Attorney's Office, so they aren't as superficially defined. There are a few other friends that get included in this roll call for certain parties and gatherings and celebrations, but they add nothing to the novel whatsoever except to show that they have other friends, too.

Again, as I said at the start of this review, I could tear it apart. And yet with everything I've read from Yanagihara on the reception of this book, she understands that, she anticipates that, she wants people to tear it apart. There's no question that it provides an indelible emotional experience (even the lack of "white space" in the novel is intentional--she did not want to provide the "breather" that I suggested near the beginning of this review) so we can consider her choices well-made. The book has certainly been successful enough to bear that out. Yet this "messy" quality, with so many absurd elements, feels slapdash, as if the enormity of the text itself justifies any weaknesses in it. It may be nearly as long as The Magic Mountain, but it does not suggest alternative dimensions: we have a sad human story here, an examination of the contours of friendship, but we have no greater statement on History or Philosophy. Perhaps we do have a statement on Art, and perhaps that should be enough.  

It's a page turner, and a significant accomplishment that deserves recognition. It's not the definitive Great Gay American Novel, but despite all my above-listed complaints, it belongs in the Top 10. Probably.