On the Beach

Written by: Nevil Shute












What inspires someone to read a book about the end of the world?  Whatever it is, it catches me about once a year, and this time manifested itself in reading a discarded library copy of Nevil Shute's "On the Beach."  And, with all due respect to Cormac McCarthy's "The Road," I don't think I've ever read a book so harsh and bleak.

The protagonist, Dwight Towers, is one of the last surviving American naval officers, the US (along with most of the northern hemisphere) having been destroyed in an all-out nuclear war.  He and his crew take refuge in Australia - one of the last inhabitable places on earth - where they continue their service until the end of civilization as the earth's atmosphere is slowly overcome by radiation.

It's amazing how well Shute raises some pretty primal questions about humanity, given how simple his book may seem at the surface.  For example, what would you do if you knew you only had a month to live?  How would you spend your time?  How would you spend your money?  What would you do with yourself?

Shute reflects on some interesting aspects of human nature, and how they backfire when faced with the end of humanity.  For example, just after the nuclear war, everyone took as much gasoline as they could and hoarded it.  But, with less than a month to live, many realize that they saved more gas than they will ever be able to use.  The same goes for alcohol: a social club which has stockpiled rare vintages of wine for years, only to discover that many of the best will never be enjoyed.

"On the Beach" is a hard read, emotionally.  It raises, in an all-too-realistic way, questions of every individual's mortality and the limits of our lives.  Yet, unlike most novels, Shute's book offers no hope.  Instead, according to this book, we are all ultimately doomed.  We will never amount to much, and there will never be quite enough time to see all we want to see, do all we want to do, or to live the lives we've dreamed about.

For those who can't face their own inner-dreads, the book can also be read as a time-piece.  It is a distorted mirror for what might have been during the cold war - a reflection of the psyche of almost all of humanity when the world's most powerful nations were constantly moments away from pushing the button that would end civilization as we know it.

It will be hard to forget this book, though I would be lying (in a way) if I said I enjoyed it.

We Have Always Lived in the Castle

Written by: Shirley Jackson












This book, perhaps fittingly, had lurked around my life for a while before I finally had the drive to read it.  I'd come across an essay about it, and been intrigued even though I had lacked understanding of the  references.  A colleague referenced another Shirley Jackson work ("The Lottery" - perhaps her most famous).  Finally, for some strange reason, my wife picked up the book and read the whole thing in one night and spent the next month telling me I should read it.  I second her recommendation.

Jackson weaves together a beautiful, but dark and complex story, focusing mainly on the disintegrating Blackwood family.  At first, we find that the locals in their small town have ostracized the family after an unnamed event.  As the story unfolds, the truth becomes more murky and muddled until the arrival of a long-lost cousin catalyzes a major change and, finally, the truth is revealed.

What's amazing is how well-crafted this book is.  (And I know that's cliche, but I can't think of a better way of saying it.)  Upon reflection, most of the plot is both crucial and negligible.  What is most memorable, though, is the cast of characters.  Mary Katherine Blackwood is completely unforgettable (and to say much more would rob you of the joy of meeting her yourself).  Her sister Constance should rank in the pantheon of American mythology (with the Jay Gatsby and Quentin Compson types).  And, when all is revealed, the tragedy of Uncle Julian's madness is made complete.

The word "gothic" is thrown around a lot to describe books which don't fit into the polite category of fiction, but this is not the case with "We Have Always Lived in the Castle."  Jackson's novel should be hailed as the archetype of gothic American writing.  But, beyond that, it should be honored as an American classic.

Catching Hell

Directed by: Alex Gibney









On October 14, 2003, Cubs fan Steve Bartman reached for a foul ball and, instead, caught the rage and vitriol of every other Cubs fan around the world.  "Catching Hell" attempts to unravel the events and outcomes of that infamous night.

The "Steve Bartman incident" is well documented around the internet, so I don't feel the need to rehash it all here.

"Catching Hell" covers much more than just the sequence of events that night, though.  Director Alex Gibney discusses multiple aspects of the Bartman incident, including how the media covered it and the way the security team at Wrigley Field tried to defuse the situation.  In a bit of meta-documentary, Gibney places the Bartman incident in historical context, comparing it to the Buckner play of 1986, to discuss how and why some people become "scapegoats."

I have to say that "Catching Hell" was a solid documentary, with enough explanation for those who are not familiar with what happened, while also introducing enough new information and reflection to make it interesting to those who remember exactly when it happened (like me).

Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban

Written by: J. K. Rowling












The third book in the Harry Potter series was a bit of a fizzle.  It just didn't do much for me.

Essentially, it picks up exactly where the last book left off.  Harry and his friends become caught up in a mystery which threatens to kill Harry.  You see, it turns out that one of the conspirators in the death of Harry's parents has escaped from the wizard prison of Azkaban, and all evidence points to this man - Sirius Black - coming to Hogwarts to kill Harry.  Of course, nothing is quite as it seems, and Harry and his pals find out that Sirius is actually innocent and wants to help protect Harry.  Unfortunately, in the end, no one (except Dumbledore) believes Harry, and so Black goes into hiding where he can keep an eye on things.

This book felt very, very formulaic for the first several chapters.  It starts in nearly the exact same way as the previous two novels, with only minor variation.  This was painful, and I grew frustrated waiting to get to the meat of this book.

And even when the plot did begin to develop, I never really felt any dramatic tension.  Although the character of Sirius Black is mysterious, I never got the sense of menace that I think I was meant to feel. Rather, I knew it was only a matter of time before the truth was revealed about his motivations.  (I didn't quite see the whole "I was innocent" twist, but I knew that he probably wasn't the heartless beast he was made out to be.)  Overall, there just wasn't any sense of danger, and I never believed that Harry and his friends were in any life-threatening scenarios.

Aside from some random introductions - Black, Hogsmeade - this book felt mainly like a bridge between what had already been established and something bigger to come in the later books.

Silly Little Game

Directed by: Adam Kurland, Lucas Jansen









With millions of people now playing the game, "Silly Little Game" provides the history of fantasy baseball.

There's not a whole lot else that can be said.  It's an entertaining documentary, especially for those who play in fantasy leagues.

I found it fascinating how small it started - one group of friends who thought they knew more about baseball than each other - and how the first year was essentially a guessing game, as no real strategies had been developed.

It was also interesting how the people who originally developed and played the game eventually lost control of the rights to fantasy baseball, and so are no longer making money on the game they created.

"Silly Little Game" is short enough to watch in a free hour, and is entertaining if not informative.

The Thin Red Line

Directed by: Terrence Malick

Written by: James Jones (novel); Terrence Malick (screenplay)










It's not often that the words "beautiful" and "war film" go together.  But, if ever they were, it would be in regards to "The Thin Red Line."  Malick brings his unique visual style and vision to a genre which is rarely ground-breaking and is more often stale.

Although the movie loosely follows the American invasion of a pacific island during World War II, it's hard to point to any central plot beyond the general invasion.  There are recurring themes and inter-personal conflicts, but characters come and go in an almost arbitrary fashion.

Woody Harrelson's performance is absolutely fantastic and is worth noting here.  His part is small, but powerful.  It's also emblematic of the film as a whole - small and excellent parts which come together in a fantastic whole.

"The Thin Red Line" is not your typical war movie.  But Malick is not your typical director.

There's not a whole lot else I can say.  It's quite an experience to see a film like this, which stakes its own territory in the world of cinema and sets itself apart.

The Art of Fielding

Written by: Chad Harbach












I'm always wary when a book comes with a lot of praise (in case I haven't said that before), but I also can't help but be intrigued.  In this case, the praise wasn't totally unearned, though it was not quite as great as it could have been.  "The Art of Fielding" had clear strengths and weaknesses which fell across clearly identifiable lines.

The novel, as a whole, is centered around college baseball player Henry Skrimshander, who has an uncanny ability to field the ball (thus giving relevance to the title).  Although Skrimshander is the central character, he only represents a fraction of the novel's plot.  The rest of the book examines the lives of other characters who are all connected through how they know Henry.  And that's where the novel falls apart.

The portions about Skrimshander are the most fascinating in the book, and could have (probably) stood on their own as a smaller novel.  He is, by far, the most interesting character in the book, and I spent a lot of the time away from him wondering when he was going to reappear.  ("When are they gonna get to the fireworks factory?")  Unfortunately, there are so many other major characters that there are massive swaths of text in which Henry is totally absent.

Harbach's prose is especially successful when describing the baseball games, and for this I applaud him.  There are very few books about baseball which accurately describe the game.  Harbach manages to infuse those scenes with the grace and elegance that baseball deserves, without dropping any of the intensity of the game's competition.

There's an old piece of writing advice: "Write what you know."  It felt like, at times, Harbach decided that he really knew about "the small-college experience" and just ran with that concept.  But this strategy can be problematic because at points the novel seemed to be a one-trick pony.

"The Art of Fielding" was pretty good, though it wasn't great.  That's what I'll end with.