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TRUE GRIT: Review & Comparison Between Both Versions

Last Saturday, I saw the Coen brothers’ remake of True Grit (opening Dec. 22), about a U.S. Marshal who helps a young girl avenge her father’s murder, with my friend Eric Edwards, who had re-watched the original John Wayne version recently. I’ve only seen parts of that movie so I thought we’d have a conversation about the two versions instead of my usual review.

PCN: What did you think of the new version?

Eric Edwards: I think it’s much edgier and grittier.

PCN: So, it lives up to its title more? The characters are literally grittier here. Jeff Bridges’s Rooster Cogburn is much more unkempt than John Wayne’s. I remember Wayne always looked pulled together, with his little bandanna tied neatly around his neck. Bridges looks like he smells.

EE: But I think that’s more realistic.

PCN: How did you like his Cogburn compared to Wayne’s?

EE: I thought Bridges made it his own. He didn’t try to put on any kind of John Wayne swagger. He just played a hard-ass who’s gone to seed and did it believably.

PCN: I thought he chewed scenery in parts and sometimes his performance resembled The Dude more than The Duke. But he eventually won me over and after a while, I stopped thinking about John Wayne in that role.

EE: I was happy to lose both Glen Campbell as La Boeuf and his song on the soundtrack.

PCN: Oh, man, Campbell was pretty hammy. Matt Damon did a much better job as the Texas Ranger.

EE: I thought both Damon and Bridges adopted some kind of speech impediment for their roles. Bridges sounds like he had at least three marbles in his mouth at all times and Damon sounds as though he was wearing a set of false teeth over his regular teeth.

PCN: I didn’t notice that. I just thought they slurred their words because Cogburn was drunk most of the time and La Boeuf had that unfortunate accident with his tongue.

EE: But you could still understand them for the most part, which is no easy feat, considering the old-fashioned type of dialogue.

PCN: The dialogue stayed pretty true to the original’s. I think some of the lines were verbatim from the previous version.

EE: I’d say about fifty percent is verbatim from the old version, and the rest seems to be more authentic to the way people spoke in that time period. In the ’69 movie, the speech was more conversational overall.

PCN: I can’t believe that 14-year-old actress, Hailee Steinfeld, who played Mattie, could handle all that dialogue! Not only was there a lot of it, it wasn’t colloquial at all. That scene when she’s bargaining with Colonel Stonehill seemed like twenty pages but she plowed through it like a champ.

EE: I kind of had a problem with her. I liked her spunk but at no time did I feel she was mourning her dad. I didn’t think she had a full character arc.

**Spoilers**

PCN: That was one thing that bothered me, too. I loved how scrappy and no-nonsense Mattie is but I never saw her affected by all the gritty stuff that was happening around her. She saw a man’s head blown off only a few feet from her, another one stabbed to death, she encountered a corpse still hanging from a tree, and she watched her horse get shot. All that would traumatize anyone, more so a young girl, I’d imagine. I would be freaking out but she remained placid throughout.

**End spoilers**

EE: In the original, there’s this scene I liked where Mattie, played by Kim Darby, had a quiet moment and was allowed to grieve for her father behind closed doors. It shows the heart of the character, that she’s not just plucky for pluck’s sake. She has some vulnerability; she’s just not gonna show it to the men around her. And I appreciated seeing that.

PCN: What did you think of Josh Brolin as Tom Chaney?

EE: I thought he was funny. It was entertaining to watch him play evil and dumb at the same time.

PCN: I’m really enjoying the work he’s doing and where his career is going. He has really matured as an actor. So, do you think this movie needed to be remade?

EE: At first, I thought no, but I really liked what the Coens did here. They made it darker and a little scary. The original had bright colors and scenery and looked Disney-esque at times. Even the night scenes were well lit. Here, everything is in shades of brown and black, there’s snow and rain and you feel the cold coming off the screen.

PCN: What did you think of the framing device of Mattie as an adult and doing voiceover? Did it add anything to the remake?

EE: I thought it made it more powerful because it hammered home the point this was an adventure with real danger and real consequences, not some cute romp through the countryside.

PCN: I didn’t think the original was “cute” but Mattie did come off girlier while this new Mattie is dead serious. And she certainly comes out of it worse for wear. I’m just glad a Coen-brothers movie had an ending. A Serious Man pissed me off.

EE: Yeah, maybe [executive producer] Spielberg had something to say about that. I noticed the brothers still included their trademark weirdness, like that guy in a bear skin.

PCN: But they dialed it way back. This is their most accessible movie in years.

EE: I agree. And it’s rated PG-13 so parents can even take their kids.

Nerd verdicts: PCN & EE—True Grittier

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Movie Review: BURLESQUE

After I saw Burlesque (opening Nov. 24) last week, a bunch of my friends asked, “So, was it a train wreck?” I think it’s telling that’s their first question but the answer is: It’s not Showgirls but it’s no Chicago, either.

Christina Aguilera makes her acting debut as Ali, a girl from Iowa whose life is so bleak she has nothing to lose by heading to Los Angeles to pursue her dreams of being a singer. But she can’t even land a gig as a backup vocalist (?!) and, after stumbling upon a burlesque club one night, decides she wants to work there. She starts out as a waitress but her talent cannot be denied as she slowly convinces the club owner, Tess (Cher), that she’s worthy of not only performing in the shows but perhaps even starring in them.

As her star rises at the club, two men vie for Ali’s attention—Jack (Cam Gigandet), the cute bartender/aspiring musician/Ali’s engaged roommate, and Marcus (Eric Dane), a rich real estate developer who has the means and connections to help Ali get ahead. Marcus is also putting pressure on Tess, who faces losing the club due to money problems, to sell it to him so he can demolish it and build a high-rise with a view. Ali finally comes up with a clever way to help Tess and get both women what they want.

Now that you’ve read the synopsis, you can just forget about it because it doesn’t matter much. This is a pretty standard Cinderella story and the movie’s highlights are the musical numbers, not what happens in between them. Director Steven Antin stages them with energy and style and the numbers are fun and sexy without being smutty. Ali seems to lose her clothes altogether during one song but her bits are coyly hidden behind giant feathered fans and the microphone.

Aguilera’s acting is neither atrocious nor great; she has a few unconvincing line readings—to be fair, some of the dialogue is super corny—but she’s perky and pretty to look at. The wig she wears for most of the movie is a bit distracting because it’s obviously fake and I’m not sure why she needs it. Doesn’t she have nice real hair? I also find it unnecessary for her to do that overwrought throat-clearing kind of singing and run every note through twenty-seven octaves. There’s no doubt she has an impressive voice; it’s sometimes much more effective when she uses it softly, letting the emotion behind the words do the heavy lifting.

As for Cher, her presence and spunk are intact but it’s disconcerting when her face remains exactly the same whether Tess is defiant or frustrated or wistful. I’ve liked her acting work in the past but all the plastic surgery is now getting in her way. Stanley Tucci is charming as Tess’s gay confidante and the club’s jack of all trades; he has a way of making even throwaway lines funny. But if you get the feeling you’ve seen his performance before, you have, in The Devil Wears Prada. Gigandet is serviceable as the love interest and Dane doesn’t stray far from his Grey’s Anatomy gig as the suave playboy.

Chances are you’ve already decided whether or not you’ll see this movie but in case you’re still undecided, here’s the final breakdown: If you love Cher, Xtina, musicals and Gigandet (he has a nude scene, showing everything except his, ah, instrument), you’ll have a good time. Not so hot for any of the above? You can probably wait for cable.

Nerd verdict: Fans of Cher & Xtina will want to Burlesque

Photos by Steven Vaughan © Screen Gems

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Movie Review: HARRY POTTER AND THE DEATHLY HALLOWS: PART 1

Among my favorite stories of all time are the ones about Winnie the Pooh, Christopher Robin and the rest of Pooh’s friends in the 100 Acre Wood. It never fails to make me cry when we get to the end and Christopher Robin tells Pooh he has to leave to go to another place where he won’t be allowed to “do nothing” anymore.

And so I thought of them as I watched Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1 because Harry (Daniel Radcliffe), Ron (Rupert Grint) and Hermione (Emma Watson) are definitely leaving behind their 100 Acre Wood—Hogwarts—as they go on the run from Lord Voldemort (Ralph Fiennes) and his Death Eaters. They’re also required to do much more than nothing to survive, being thrown from one dangerous situation to the next as suddenly as they’re being thrust into adulthood.

*Spoilers Ahead*

An early scene sets the dark tone of the movie as Voldemort meets with Death Eaters to discuss grabbing Harry when he’s moved from the Dursleys’ home. There’s something literally hanging over them that’s awful to behold. Then Harry sets off with all the polyjuiced Harry doppelgangers as decoys but somehow Voldemort knows their plan and the gang is immediately under attack.

The aerial fight is quite spectacularly shot, with Hagrid’s motorbike and sidecar being one of the coolest movie vehicles ever. It has a hyperdrive button! It spits flames! It gets Harry to safety but alas, can’t help prevent the first fatalities of this installment.

And there’s more heartbreak—I challenge you to be unmoved by Dobby—and danger as Harry, Hermione and Ron struggle to stay ahead of the Death Eaters while tracking down and destroying the rest of the Horcruxes. The movie is mostly filmed in bleak, low-contrast tones, with nary a sunny day for the trio to enjoy, whether literally or metaphorically.

But it isn’t without levity, as flashes of humor make their way into some of the most intense scenes. Screenwriter Steve Kloves also created a very sweet moment of Harry and Hermione wordlessly dancing in their tent to a song on their small radio after Ron has abandoned them. Harry is trying to cheer up Hermione, seeing how despondent she is. It’s not in the book but is a lovely addition to the movie, reminding me of the scene in Witness in which Harrison Ford dances with Kelly McGillis to Sam Cooke’s “(What a) Wonderful World” in the barn. Its resonance comes from our knowledge they won’t get to experience lightness again in the near future.

The dancing scene also makes clear something I felt about the books as well: Hermione has wayyy more chemistry with Harry than with Ron. Not that I want H and H to end up together (I don’t; I like how their friendship remains pure) but I never sensed love bloom between Hermione and Ron either in the novels or this movie. Watson has zero chemistry with Grint, despite his making moony eyes at her. During a scene that’s surprisingly, ah, adult for this PG-13 movie, Ron’s greatest fears are presented before him and he sees H and H naked and making out like mad (it’s not real). He’s mortified, of course, but I thought if I had to, I’d rather watch that than Watson canoodling with Grint.

*End spoilers*

I didn’t love the last movie, Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, so I’m glad director David Yates has returned with a more assured hand, something he showed in Order of the Phoenix, his first outing with the series. I’m happy he’ll be on board to take us home with the final installment next July. After this exciting first part, I don’t know how I’ll be able to wait until then.

Nerd verdict: Darkly exciting Hallows

What did you think? Do you want to see the final part in 3D?

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Book Review: Walter Mosley’s THE LAST DAYS OF PTOLEMY GREY

Ptolemy Grey is a 91-year-old man living in a cluttered, squalid Los Angeles apartment, mostly forgotten by the world while forgetting his own past due to dementia. One day, Robyn, a 17-year-old orphan and family friend, comes over and starts cleaning up, sorting through the detritus and restoring order. She also takes him to a doctor who’s looking for test subjects for an experimental drug treating dementia. The “Devil’s medicine” might kill Ptolemy but it might also recover his memory before he dies. Figuring he has lived long enough, Ptolemy trades whatever days he has left for the chance to remember what’s important to him and get his affairs in order. Once his memory returns, he realizes that includes seeking retribution for the murder of a family member.

Though it takes place in a brutal environment where people get gunned down and Ptolemy rarely leaves his apartment for fear of getting mugged, the novel is more a poignant examination of mortality and how one man is determined to face his end with dignity. Mosley is masterful in getting readers inside Ptolemy’s head, as jumbled as it is at first. Then, as his mind reawakens, we take a journey both painful and sweet through the landmarks of Ptolemy’s life, watching as he decides to take action to right some wrongs, to finally rid himself of regret about things he never did long ago.

Mosley also manages to slip in subtle statements about our current war, how news coverage confuses Ptolemy because he can’t figure out who the enemy is when he at least knew he was fighting Hitler as a soldier during WWII. Sometimes the outside world makes less sense than what’s going on in the old man’s head.

But the novel isn’t political. It’s a meditation on different kinds of love and how it can be found in unexpected places. Through Robyn, Ptolemy is able to find his way back to himself just as he’s ready to let go.

Nerd verdict: Bittersweet Days

Buy The Last Days of Ptolemy Grey from Amazon| B&N| Powell’s| IndieBound

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Book Review: Dennis Lehane’s MOONLIGHT MILE

Two years ago, Dennis Lehane said in this Entertainment Weekly article that it was unlikely he’d write another whodunit and was pretty much done with Patrick Kenzie, one of the protagonists in the author’s popular PI series about a pair of Boston detectives. He says, ”My publishers, they’ve been clear if I ever wrote one, they’d back a truckful of money onto my driveway, but I don’t want to be the guy who goes back to the well just so I could buy another house.”

So, when I heard that Lehane’s next novel, Moonlight Mile (William Morrow, Nov. 2), is indeed about Patrick and his partner Angie Gennaro, I was partly elated as a fan of the series and partly skeptical, thinking, “Maybe the publishers sent in TWO trucks of money?”

I needn’t have worried—Moonlight is no sellout novel for a vacation home in Bora Bora. It’s a strong addition to the series, dealing with the aftermath of events in Gone, Baby, Gone. Twelve years after Patrick and Angie went looking for four-year-old Amanda McCready in that earlier novel, her aunt Bea is back saying Amanda has disappeared again. According to her teachers’ testimonials, Amanda is a stellar student on her way to a full scholarship to an Ivy League school and a bright future far from the miserable existence she has endured with her worthless mom, Helene. The consensus is Amanda wouldn’t run away with so much at stake. The situation is further complicated when Russian thugs enter the picture and Bea discovers that Amanda might be trying to assume a false identity.

Having found Amanda once before, Patrick goes looking for her again, faced with subtle accusations from others—Angie, included—that he could’ve helped Amanda avoid this whole mess if he hadn’t done what he did twelve years ago.

Lehane once again proves he writes the kind of crime fiction that explores societal mores as well as any literary novel can, and with wit and snappy pacing to boot. He said in that EW article that he was losing interest in writing whodunits because he was tiring of “whipping out the kitchen sink just to obscure s—, like the identity of the serial killer or whatever.” Well, this book isn’t about hidden identities (though there are some fake ones). Lehane is more interested in examining the conundrum of how one can do the right thing and still be wrong, how there aren’t easy answers to impossible situations. As Patrick explains to someone, “I know damn well I don’t want to live in a world where people can just pluck a child out of a family they deem bad and raise a stolen child as they see fit.” In defense of his actions regarding Amanda twelve years ago, “It was a case of situational ethics versus societal ones, I guess. I took society’s side.”

Patrick’s position is even more understandable considering he has a family now. He and Angie are married with a four-year-old daughter (the same age as Amanda when she originally went missing) and worrying about things like health benefits and job security. Angie is working towards a master’s in sociology while Patrick questions the toll his work has exacted from his conscience, wondering if he’s doing more harm than good. When he shows a woman a picture of Amanda and asks if she’s seen her, he’s shocked by the vitriol the woman spews in response:

You asked a simple question lately or made an innocuous aside and suddenly you were the recipient of a howl of loss and fury. We no longer understood how we’d gotten here. We couldn’t grasp what had happened to us. We woke up one day and all the street signs had been stolen, all the navigation systems had shorted out. The car had no gas, the living room had no furniture, the imprint in the bed beside us had been smoothed over.

But Patrick and Angie’s world isn’t all melancholia. They still have a sexy banter, their dealings with their daughter are amusing, and Lehane leaves them in a hopeful place, a temporary refuge from the darkness, a hard-earned life that may be imperfect but not without its sweetness.

Nerd verdict: Sharp, beautiful Moonlight

Buy Moonlight Mile from Amazon| B&N| Powell’s| IndieBound

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Faith is the New Black? Conversation about GLEE, STONE & CONVICTION

**SPOILERS**

I’ve noticed in the last week that there was a trend in the entertainment I saw—an examination of faith in its different forms. Last night’s Glee questioned God’s existence, a discussion brought on by Kurt’s dad lying in a coma after suffering a heart attack. There was the funny approach—Finn believing in grilled cheesus, a Jesus-like image burnt into his grilled cheese sandwich—and the overwrought one—Rachel and her Yentl impersonation. The most affecting scenes turned out to be Sue’s revelation that she started doubting God as a kid because He didn’t cure her sister’s Down Syndrome, and Kurt’s singing “I Want to Hold Your Hand” for his dad because that’s something real he can believe in.

**END SPOILERS**

I also attended screenings of two movies—Stone (out October 8th) and Conviction (October 15th)—that also deal with faith, though the movies’ styles and what the lead characters believe in differ dramatically. Stone stars Edward Norton as the titular character, a convict trying to manipulate his parole officer, Jack (Robert De Niro), into giving him an early release by getting his beautiful wife, Lucetta (Milla Jovovich), to seduce Jack. Conviction is the true story of Betty Anne Waters (Hilary Swank), a high school dropout who goes back to school to obtain a law degree so she can get her wrongly convicted brother out of a life sentence for murder.

My contributing writer, Eric Edwards, and I had widely varying viewpoints on these movies so I’m posting the following discussion instead of traditional reviews.

Pop Culture Nerd: I had no idea Stone was about spirituality. I thought it was a crime thriller. Did you know?

Eric Edwards: No, I was expecting a violent prison movie. I didn’t see the trailer but didn’t think I needed to. They had me with Norton and De Niro. I had no clue it was about a journey of faith and redemption.

PCN: Which I don’t have a problem with, but I don’t like being misled. Nowhere in the ad campaigns did I see an indication of the subject matter. I went in expecting a gritty thriller and got a talky examination of faith done in a heavy-handed way.

EE: It was a bit heavy-handed…

PCN: Characters were reading and quoting excerpts from the Bible! Stone’s wife’s name is Lucetta but Jack would call her Lucy, which could also be short for Lucifer. C’mon!

EE: But it’s a topic that’s timely. These days, we need our faith, we need something to hang on to. And for the record, I’m not a Bible thumper. If you notice, the characters doing the heaviest thumping in the movie are the most lost.

PCN: Here’s the thing: my faith is strong but I don’t go around trying to hit people over the head with it. It’s a personal thing for everyone. I thought Stone was preaching too hard. That incessant chatter from the Christian talk radio station Jack listens to was driving me batty. While the radio host was hammering and hammering his points home, I just wanted to reach through the screen and turn off the radio.

EE: We’re not subjected to that chatter while we’re in Stone’s world. I think the movie is about extremists and asks us where our positions are on the belief scale. Anything that makes us think like that is worth the price of admission.

PCN: I’m all for movies that promote intelligent thought but I don’t like being suckered. The official synopsis for the film says it’s “a tale of passion, betrayal and corruption” but it’s really a long lecture on spirituality. If they want to do that, say it up front. And show, not tell.

Like Conviction. That movie showed me what absolute faith looks like. Betty Anne believed in her brother’s innocence and set out to prove it. She was tested over and over, in ways that would’ve crushed most people’s spirit, but she never wavered. Actions speak louder than words, right? Betty Anne acted on her faith while Stone and Jack just sit around talking about it. And Betty Anne’s real.

EE: Are you sure you didn’t just like Conviction more because you didn’t have to watch people going to church and reading from the Bible like in Stone?

PCN: What?? I go to church.

EE: OK, I’m not calling you an atheist. I guess my problem with Conviction is that I felt the brother (Sam Rockwell) wasn’t worth saving. He was kind of a jerk. Betty had such a tunnel-vision approach to getting him out of prison that she may have done more damage to her husband and kids while she was at it.

PCN: Betty Anne sacrificed a lot in her crusade but that’s how her faith guided her.

EE: To the detriment of everyone around her.

PCN: Not her brother.

EE: He was in prison.

PCN: So he didn’t need her?

EE: She could’ve balanced her focus more.

PCN: She felt her life purpose was to get her brother exonerated. I’m still trying to figure out my life purpose so I’m not going to judge how she goes about accomplishing hers. I thought what she did was pretty inspiring.

EE: Let’s agree to disagree on this point and move on. What did you think of the performances?

PCN: I liked Ed Norton a lot once I got past the cornrows and character voice, which made me chuckle at first. My favorite line of his: “I don’t want no beef with you; I just want to be vegetarian.” De Niro was De Niro, Jovovich was interesting in that she kept me guessing about her true motivations.

In Conviction, I really liked Minnie Driver’s and Swank’s performances. Driver brings so much levity and energy to the movie; her Boston accent is spot-on. Swank excels at playing the scrappy underdog who takes on impossible challenges.

EE: I enjoyed Norton’s work—I believed the transitions in his performance the most. I don’t like seeing De Niro weak. I don’t mind him vulnerable, but not weak. He’s De Niro! As far as Swank is concerned, hasn’t she played the same character about 15 times? I think her performances are repetitive.

PCN: You wanna talk about repetitive? When was the last time De Niro did something truly fresh in the last two decades?

EE: OK, but if you consider his entire career, it’s more varied than Swank’s so far.

PCN: True, but she’s got time. We’ll see.

Nerd verdicts:

Eric Edwards—A solid Stone, Misguided Conviction

PCN—A dull Stone, Moving Conviction

Photos by Ron Batzdorf

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Conjurer of Destinies: Review of Monique Truong’s BITTER IN THE MOUTH

This review is by contributing writer Thuy Dinh, a practicing attorney and the editor of the literary webzine Da Mau.

**************

In Vietnamese, words that convey happiness and suffering are themselves distinct tastes. While happiness is always nutty-sweet (ngọt bùi), suffering provides a wide range of bitter tastes: bitter-spicy (đắng cay), sour-bitter (chua cay), medicinally sharp like bitter melon (khổ qua) or acidly bitter like soap berries (bồ hòn—a Southeast Asian fruit that’s also used as a natural detergent).

In Bitter in the Mouth, Monique Truong dazzlingly explores a whole array of an outsider’s experience via the literal and figurative trope of synesthesia. Her main character, Linda Hammerick, suffers from a rare sensory disorder: she registers words first and foremost as specific tastes, isolated and independent from their meanings. When she hears the word mom, Linda thinks of chocolate milk. (Incidentally, the word chocolate from the Aztec word xocolatl means bitter water). Linda’s challenge–which is also the central mystery of the novel—is how to unravel her sensory confusion, to discard/distill the bitter from the nutty-sweet.

Linda’s memory begins not in infancy, but Athena-like in 1975 when she is 7. She either does not remember or is vague about the years and events that precede 1975. Bitterness is the first taste that Linda remembers, which was “bitter in the way that greens were good for us were bitter. Or in the way that simmering resentment was bitter.” Linda’s favorite color is fire, because it contains “red and yellow and orange and blue.” The following excerpt from the first chapter provides the main clues to the novel’s mystery, which is not revealed until the book’s second part:

I’ll tell you the easy things first. I’ll use simple sentences. So factual and flat, these statements will land in between us like playing cards on a table: My name is Linda Hammerick. I grew up in Boiling Springs, North Carolina. My parents were Thomas and DeAnne. My best friend was named Kelly. I was my father’s tomboy. I was my mother’s baton twirler. I was my high school’s valedictorian. I went far away for college and law school. I live now in New York City. I miss my great-uncle Harper.

But once these cards have been thrown down, there are bound to be distorting overlaps, the head of the Queen of Spades on the body of the King of Clubs, the Joker’s bowed legs beneath a field of hearts: I grew up in (Thomas and Kelly). My parents were (valedictorian and baton twirler). My best friend was named (Harper). I was my father’s (New York City). I was my mother’s (college and law school). I was my high school’s (tomboy). I went far away for (Thomas and DeAnne). I live now in (Boiling Springs). I miss (Linda Hammerick). The only way to sort out the truth is to pick up the cards again, slowly, examining each one.

Facts in Truong’s novel are never what they seem, the same way an acquired language may assault, dilute or obliterate an immigrant’s mother tongue. In this sense, all outsiders are synesthesiasts. Truong, a 21st century writer writing about displacement, has drifted a long way from the refined taste of Proust’s madeleine and the fragrant waft of Tran Anh Hung’s Scent of Green Papaya. Her protagonist’s sensory world is instead attacked by tuna casserole and chicken a la king, gray, gloppy food held together by Campbell’s cream of mushroom soup—“the Great Assimilator,” as Linda wryly quips. American optimism, embodied by Bisquick pancake mix (“the possibilities, the sweet and the savory, were all in that cheery box”) is both salvation and forgetfulness.

Linda’s mom—her chocolate milk—is both her mom and not her mom. Linda’s true name and the word matricide both evoke peach. Linda is her father’s New York City because it was there that he met the love of his life. Linda’s best friend is her uncle Harper, who evokes a not-too-subtle reference to the novel’s literary influence, Harper Lee’s To Kill a Mocking Bird. (Or perhaps Harpers Ferry, the site of the abolitionist John Brown’s failed rebellion against Southern slaveholders).

Yet Linda asserts that she “was never Scout. I was Boo Radley, not hidden away but in plain sight.” Linda’s self-identification with Boo Radley is another clue to the novel’s mystery. She is a self-willed, almost ruthless exile who cannot even entertain the sentimental thought of nostalgia. While Uncle Harper is the closest embodiment to Linda’s sense of home, he is no Atticus Finch because he, like, Linda, is mutely and deeply estranged from his own Southern Baptist culture.

Linda’s need to reconstruct her personal history from memory’s gaps and distortions is probably similar to an immigrant’s reinvention of identity in his/her adopted homeland. In this sense, a self-inventor is both explorer and fortune teller: how to construct a believable narrative from a jumble of cards?

Truong proceeds to answer this question by weaving in the seemingly disparate legends of Virginia Dare (reputedly the first child born in North America to English parents), the Wright Brothers, and the poet-slave George Moses Horton—outcasts who helped define North Carolina’s cultural history. Her novel is an ambitious and poignant meditation on how to define your true essence, a compelling assertion that individual will can trump biological and geographical destinies. To celebrate your affliction—if being different is seen as an affliction—is not enough; you must learn how to synthesize your synesthesia into a larger canvas so that, like the Wright brothers, your ultimate achievement isn’t simply “flight but flight accompanied by a safe landing.”

Monique Truong has flown and landed with amazing grace.

Buy Bitter in the Mouth from Amazon| B&N| Powell’s| IndieBound

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Book Review + Giveaway: Michael Connelly’s THE REVERSAL

Mickey Haller for the People.

Say what?

Haller, the renown defense attorney who fiercely stands for the accused, decides to prosecute a convicted murderer in Michael Connelly’s latest, The Reversal (Oct. 5, Little, Brown).

Will Sherlock Holmes become friends with Professor Moriarty next?

The reversal isn’t just Haller’s; the title also refers to a twenty-four-year-old guilty verdict in a murder trial being thrown out. Jason Jessup had been convicted in 1986 of kidnapping and killing a twelve-year-old girl but new DNA evidence reveals the semen found on her dress was not his.

To avoid any semblance of prejudice, the Los Angeles district attorney brings in Haller as an independent prosecutor to retry Jessup. Haller puts together a crack team consisting of his ex-wife, deputy DA Maggie McPherson, as second chair and Harry Bosch as his investigator. But they face an uphill battle as they find that many witnesses from 1986 have died and the most important one, the victim’s sister, has gone off the grid. Meanwhile, Jessup is out on bail and behaving in mysterious ways, making Haller and company fear something ugly is about to go down, something which may involve their own little girls.

This book is like an adventure featuring the Justice League or the Avengers, an all-star lineup of lead players from previous stories. Besides Haller, Bosch and McPherson, FBI Agent Rachel Walling also shows up to profile Jessup. (I kept expecting Jack McEvoy the journalist to make an appearance, too.) While it’s exciting to see them all in one place, they form a team that’s almost too powerful, giving them less to overcome in the courtroom (not that everything goes as planned).

The suspense and obstacles come more from Bosch’s detective work in tracking down former witnesses and shadowing Jessup during his nocturnal activities. Connelly’s meticulous attention to procedural details puts the reader right in Bosch’s shoes. We feel his frustration when he hits road blocks in the cold case and experience his excitement when he makes new discoveries. Connelly also guides us through Los Angeles with a sure hand; his descriptions of Mulholland Drive and the Santa Monica Pier at night are both seductive and sinister.

But the most important thing is Connelly’s ability to convince us that Haller would work for The Man after two decades representing the underdog. It turns out Haller isn’t all about clever lawyerly tactics—his passion for “a true and just verdict” burns as strongly as Bosch’s. He retains a healthy distrust of the DA’s office while getting schooled by his ex in how the prosecution works. His actions aren’t only believable, they make him a better lawyer and give new depth to his character.

Nerd verdict: Bosch and Haller join forces for strong Reversal

The book doesn’t come out until next week but the fantabulous Miriam at Hachette Book Group is allowing me to give away three copies. To enter:

be an e-mail subscriber or Twitter follower (tell me which—new subscribers get 1 entry, current followers get 2)
leave a comment about something you were sure was true but found out later it wasn’t
have U.S./Canada address

Giveaway ends next Friday, October 8, 5 p.m. PST. Winners will be randomly chosen via Random.org and announced here and on Twitter. I won’t be notifying via e-mail so please check back to see if you’ve won. Winners will have 48 hours to claim the prize before alternate names are chosen.

Let’s hear about your reversals!

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TV Pilot Review: LONE STAR

FOX’s new drama, Lone Star (premiering Monday, September 20), is set in the world of Texas oil with a two-timing con man at its center. If you’re thinking, Isn’t that called Dallas and was done in the ’80s? I’d say, Nope. Dallas had a compelling (albeit sleazy) lead character and was entertaining camp.

Lone Star has newcomer James Wolk as a con man leading a double life with two different women in different Texas cities. As Robert in Midland, he has a sweet blonde girlfriend (Eloise Mumford) and scams locals, including her family, by selling them fake investments. As Bob in Houston, he’s married to Cat (Adrianne Palicki) and angling his way into the company owned by his father-in-law, oil tycoon Clint (Jon Voight). Perhaps Robert/Bob can’t be faulted for his actions since he’s been living a life of crime with his scam-artist father (David Keith) since he was a little boy.

After Bob gets a top position at Clint’s company, he decides he wants to go legit. Well, as legit as he can be when he’s juggling two different women, both of whom he claims to be in love with. He also doesn’t know jack about oil drilling and Clint has already made overt statements about how he deals with people who cross him—it’s mentioned several times that Clint’s brother Ray is dead because he tried something foolish with Clint. I assume the rest of the season will deal with how Robert/Bob will manage to keep the scams going and his hide from getting skinned by Clint.

Wolk is perfectly good-looking but there’s something too self-conscious about him to make Robert/Bob work for me. The best actors make it look like they don’t even know the camera’s in the room, that we’re somehow peeking into their private moments. Wolk always seems to be aware of the camera; in close-ups, I can see him acting. I’m not talking about the scenes when he’s pulling a con so he’s supposed to be putting on an act, but those in which he’s being open with his father. Perhaps this is because Wolk hasn’t worked in film for very long—I read in an interview he’s been in L.A. only three years. In You Again, the movie opening next week in which he plays Kristen Bell’s brother, he has this same I’m-not-quite-comfortable-in-front-of-the-camera-yet quality.

He also doesn’t make a convincing con man because he gives giant tells when he’s cornered. In a scene when he thinks Clint is onto him, Bob looks like he might pee his pants. He needs to be less obvious or Clint will squash him like a bug. Maybe Wolk will loosen up eventually and then Bob will be more of a match for his father-in-law.

Besides the intimidating Voight, only Mumford makes much of an impression. She has an open, trusting quality that makes it believable her Lindsay wouldn’t suspect anything. If Robert/Bob had to pick one woman and asked my advice, I’d tell him to choose Lindsay. Cat comes with a lot of baggage from her family, including her two bland brothers played by Mark Deklin and Bryce Johnson.

Marc Webb, who helmed the charming (500) Days of Summer and is rebooting the Spider-Man franchise, couldn’t add any sparks to this, though his work is competent enough. For a show that takes place under the hot Texas sun, Lone Star is oddly tepid.

Nerd verdict: Lackluster Star

Disclosure: I was given a screener because I’m a Klout influencer. I was under no obligation to receive it or talk about it. I get no monetary compensation for talking about it or mentioning the company.

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Book Review: I’D KNOW YOU ANYWHERE by Laura Lippman

I’m conflicted in writing this review because Laura Lippman is a very skilled writer, someone who can string ordinary words together to create a breathtaking sentence. But her latest novel, I’d Know You Anywhere, frustrated me immensely because I couldn’t find many characters to root for, including the lead.

Eliza Benedict is the former Elizabeth Lerner, who was kidnapped when she was fifteen and held hostage for six weeks by Walter Bowman. Bowman had snatched and killed other girls before Elizabeth and another one while she was with him. Neither is quite sure why he let her live. The book opens twenty-three years later when Eliza (she’d shortened her first name and taken her husband’s last name to avoid attention) receives a letter from Walter, now on death row, claiming he’s sorry and would love to hear from her. She writes back, telling him to not write her, but Walter’s accomplice, a woman who’s against capital punishment, shows up on Eliza’s street and pretty much bullies her into accepting phone calls from Walter. He slowly worms his way back into Eliza’s world and she realizes she must confront him to quiet the ghosts in her head and wrest control of her life.

**MILD SPOILERS**

While I can’t imagine what it’s like to have gone through what Eliza did, I had to repeatedly put down this book because many of her actions, or rather, non-actions, are hard to swallow. I couldn’t understand why she would respond to Walter’s first letter, much less agree to accept collect phone calls from him on a regular basis. Her reasoning is if she ignores him, he’d just continue his attempts to contact her. Well, giving in to him also encourages him to prolong the connection. She even buys a new phone and gets a different number just for Walter because she doesn’t want him to have her regular number. How about not giving him any number at all?

Her sister, Vonnie, painted as brash and self-indulgent, actually nails it on the head when she tells Eliza:

“You let life happen to you….Jesus, if there’s one thing I would have learned from your experience, I think it would be to never let anyone else take control of my life. Instead, you’ve handed yours over. To [your husband] Peter, to the children. And now you’re giving it back to Walter Bowman.”

I don’t fault the teenage Elizabeth for being passive and doing what it took to survive; I have a problem with her remaining so docile as an adult.

Eliza’s passivity is especially alarming when Barbara, the anti-death-penalty woman, is clearly stalking her. Barbara hand-delivers notes from Walter, always knowing where Eliza and her family are, including where her daughter has soccer practice. Besides invading Eliza’s privacy, Barbara is unbearable in her righteousness. I would have gone straight to the police station and filed paperwork requesting a restraining order. But Eliza does nothing, fearing her past would be revealed, that her children would be devastated since they know nothing of her dark secrets. This seems like a reckless decision since protecting them from a killer with an outside accomplice—Walter makes subtle threats against them—should be Eliza’s first priority.

**END SPOILERS**

The only thing that kept me reading is Lippman’s deft prose. She has a way of describing things that’s instantly visceral:

Getting a letter from Walter was like some exiled citizen of New Orleans getting a telegram signed “Katrina.” Hey, how are you? Do you ever think of me? Those were some crazy times, huh?

I also commend Lippman on presenting all sides of the story: Walter’s justification for his actions, Barbara’s crusade against capital punishment, the mother of a dead girl who wants to make sure Walter gets executed, and Eliza’s reasons for communicating with her tormentor. But in Lippman’s attempt to be fair to everyone, she has failed to make any strong statement at all.

Nerd verdict: I don’t care to Know these characters

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TV Review: NIKITA

For months now, giant billboards of Maggie Q in slinky outfits have been decorating the streets of L.A., trumpeting the arrival of a not-quite-new badass. When the latest reboot of La Femme Nikita finally premiered Thursday night, it had about as much depth as its advertising campaign.

Maggie Q stars as the titular character, now a lone wolf seeking revenge on the Division, the shady government agency that plucked her out of jail and trained her to be an assassin. Meanwhile, Lyndsy Fonseca is Nikita Jr., a drug addict named Alex who gets caught during a robbery, charged with a murder she didn’t commit and recruited by the Division. The premiere episode cuts back and forth between Nikita trying to find the organization’s weak spots and Alex adjusting to her new situation as a trainee, with some asskicking and Q in sleek outfits thrown in.

The problem was I didn’t find any of the lead actors convincing. Fonseca has a soft, apple-pie healthiness that doesn’t translate into a Ukrainian meth head. She’d snarl and try to give ‘tude but comes across as posing. Shane West, as the Division recruiter/handler Michael, overacts with his cheesy chewing of every line, none of which held any conviction. He wants to be intimidating but I ain’t buying it.

Q is harder to pin down. She has an iciness befitting a killer but it also makes her inaccessible. In the original Luc Besson movie, Anne Parillaud was allowed to be vulnerable and fierce, sometimes wiping away tears while blowing away bad guys. Q’s Nikita is all glacier. She looks good in Nikita’s costume changes but that only accentuates how mannequin-like she is. And her slight frame, devoid of any muscle tone, is too fragile to be badass or sexy. When a bad guy hits her during a fight, I worried she’d snap right in half. That’s something I was never concerned about while watching Jennifer Garner on Alias.

I have a weak spot for fightin’ ladies, though, so until my favorite shows return and there are other new series to check out, I’ll probably give Nikita another go. But the show had better start making me care about its characters or it’ll be permanently eliminated from my DVR.

Did you watch? How do you think this Nikita compares to the previous incarnations?

Nerd verdict: Nikita misses the mark

Photo Credit: Jordin Althaus/The CW

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Book Review: ROOM by Emma Donoghue

Writing a review for Emma Donoghue‘s Room is a tricky thing since I wholeheartedly want you to read it but the less you know about the plot, the better. It’s told from the point of view of a 5-year-old named Jack and right away, you understand you’ve entered an unusual world but aren’t sure what’s going on. The dawning realization of Jack and his mother’s situation packs a huge emotional wallop I don’t want to spoil for you. Is it enough to say this book made me weep openly at times in public? That it haunts me and is unlike anything I’ve read in the last several years? How about the fact it’s been shortlisted for this year’s Booker Prize?

If you need more, I’ll give a brief description but must reiterate that your reading experience will be more powerful if you just pick up the book and jump in. The suspense factor is much higher when you don’t know where events are headed.

**SYNOPSIS ALERT**

Jack was born in a windowless 11-by-11-foot room and has spent his entire life there. That’s because his mother, known only as Ma, has been held captive for the last seven years. Ma tries to give Jack as normal a life as she can, teaching him songs and how to read. She also tells him that things like trees and animals and cars only exist on another planet so he doesn’t long for them. But soon after Jack’s fifth birthday, Ma realizes she can’t raise him in confinement forever and forms an awful, desperate plan for escape. Though the author said the idea for Room was “triggered by” the real-life case of Josef Fritzl, the book made me think of Jaycee Dugard and how this story could have been told by one of her children.

**END SYNOPSIS**

Donoghue took a big risk writing in Jack’s voice but she handled it beautifully. The story is so disturbing, I’m not sure I could’ve handled it from Ma’s point of view. Jack leaves out information about things he doesn’t understand; our filling in the blanks is horrific enough. He has a unique perspective about the world but still behaves like a “normal” five-year-old in many ways. He’s not too cutesy or precocious; he feels real to me. His innocence moved me so much I sometimes didn’t know if I should laugh or cry and often did both at the same time.

Ma is also heartrending in her courage and fierce love for Jack. Here’s a woman who doesn’t waste time on self-pity, instead focusing all her energy on how she can protect her son. Ma and Jack’s resilience is what makes this book ultimately uplifting and one you won’t soon forget.

Nerd verdict: Make room for Room

Buy Room from Amazon| B&N| Powell’s| IndieBound

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