9. Brick Lane, by Monica Ali

Ali's novel, published in 2003, was a book club pick for the summer. I had never heard of the novel, but was aware of Ali through comparison with Zadie Smith, who also published a novel about Bengali transplants in modern Britain. Ali's writing varies strongly from Smith's however; whereas Smith is out to amaze with her dazzling prose, Ali aims for a slow burn. Telling the story of Nazneen, who moves to Great Britain at the behest of her self-proclaimed brilliant husband, Ali paints a beautiful portrait of identity and assimilation. In trying to resist the charms of political militant Karim, while simultaneously accepting that her fate has already been written out for her, Nazneen discovers a world she did not previously know she could grow to love. And while this discovery sometimes comes across as pure cheese ("Icey-skating"), Ali deeply humanizes her characters, characters that could easily have become cliches in the hands of a lesser writer. Her Chanu, a misguided failure of a man both as a husband and a father, stays with the reader long after the book's end. His faults connect him with readers in ways that not many would admit. Skip the well-intended movie and go straight to the source.

10. "Oprah, don't leave us!" and "Has 'Mad Men' gone mad?" by Heather Havrilesky at Salon.com (Nov. 20, and Sept. 28).


Havrilesky is the sharpest journalist covering television today, not to mention the funniest. Her column on Salon.com, "I Like To Watch" is a weekly stop for me on Sunday mornings (post New York Times). Whether she is praising The Wire, or stomping all over the dated newsprint-created hemlines on latest season of Project Runway, Haverilesky both embraces the many wonders (and the yuckiness) of the tube, but also manages to keep it firmly grounded in its cultural relevance. Havrilesky knows that a good critic must not only recommend and condemn, but must also explain why the book/movie/television show means so much in the time it was created. Both of these pieces display this talent in ample, gut-busting style.

"Oprah, don't leave us!", published just a day after Winfrey's announcement that her syndicated show will go off the air in 2111, is cultural criticism at its finest. Walking a fine line between veneration and satire, Havrilesky begins the piece by aptly describes the pull Oprah has over those who know better:

Oprah tells us what to read. We don't always love her taste in books, but we love chatting about books with her on her butter-yellow couches. Oprah tells us whom to love and admire. We don't always care what Barbra Streisand is up to, but we love watching Babs and Opes clash and subtly try to outshine each other, like colliding stars. Oprah feeds our souls. We never liked Dr. Phil that much after he exited Oprah's sacred circle of trust, but while he was basking in her glow, his words spoke to our very hearts. Oprah delivers us from evil. When Hurricane Katrina hit, we didn't wonder what George W. Bush or the Coast Guard would do to help those people, we wondered what Oprah would do. Maybe some of her ideas are a little weird, maybe some of her guests are quacks, but Oprah herself is smart and brash and so awesomely powerful but also so openhearted and so wise.

How will we as acolytes survive this abandonment? Or more importantly, how will our husbands, roommates, or dogs find us during the next two farewell years? Curled up on the floor in the fetal position crying "I want my imaginary black mommy! I want my imaginary black mommy!" (That line made me laugh harder than any other this year.) While Oprah prides herself on helping people to "Live Your Best Life," women (and men like me) will need an Oprah to help us deal with our loss of Oprah, Haverilesky tells us. "Stronger? Better? Without Oprah?!! That's just not possible." a point Haverilesky states Oprah cannot disagree with. Ouch.

Amping down the satire, "Has Mad Men gone mad?" was a mid-season response to the growing critical consensus that the show, in it third season, had lost it potency. Taking the time to describe the cultural shift that the series had been leading up to since its inception ("Goodbye three-martini lunches. Hello disillusionment!"), the piece nails the ridiculous tenants of American life that seem so fundamental to who we are as a people. As Havrilesky states, "This is what "Mad Men" is best at, after all: capturing a mood, and making all of the little worker bees and homemakers and children in its picture reflect that mood in their own way." Coming just after the heartbreaking episode in which curvy secretary Joan leaves Sterling Cooper for a domestic hell only the audience knows about, the article captures the hidden absurdity of modern life in exacting detail.

"Isn't that the American dream, after all? We like to see ourselves as independent, headstrong, deeply unique individuals, paving our own paths through the wilds of contemporary life. We so easily forget that almost every decision we make, from whether or not we breast-feed our babies, work overtime, sleep more than six hours a night, exercise, visit the doctor, vote, do drugs, drink, stay married, all of it, springs from the common, accepted attitudes of the times. The beliefs we hold most sacred, the ideas that define our identities, more often than not boil down to trends. It might take a few decades, but one day we inevitably wake up and notice that a big percentage of the individuals in our demographic were also smoking, dabbling in Buddhism, using formula, spanking their kids with a wooden spoon, getting divorced in middle age, reading Dr. Spock, becoming vegan, you name it. The very choices that feel fundamental to us are the ones that look almost hilariously clichéd and goofy in retrospect."

Haverilesky ends the article by imagining 18th season of the series, where audiences laugh over people injecting botox into their faces, and going bankrupt over the lack of publicly funded health care.

If only Mad Men itself could be so illuminating.

I have high aspirations to make this a blog about what I am currently reading. As an avid reader, I find that I do not have much of an outlet for my book lust; it is a very solitary pleasure indeed, one that requires privacy and silence. It is also something I long to discuss and share with others. Whenever we have people over for dinner and wine, I find myself staring at my bookshelf, waiting for just the right moment to spring a novel I love on unsuspecting company, or wishing they were gone so I could read in peace. Monthly book club is not enough for me. I want to talk about books 24/7. Much of the reason I teach is to hopefully inspire the love of literature that I currently cherish. Maybe with a weekly post or two, I can start a dialogue, link readers to books they will love, connect. So to get started I will list my top 10 reading experiences of this year over the next two weeks. Most were released this year. All of them moved me in some way. I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think.

The End Is Near, and I Am Very Afraid

Here I go:

I have always been fiercely loyal to the shows that I watch. For anybody that knows me, it is not uncommon to hear me defend shows that for some reason or another are not as popular as they once were. The Sopranos, for instance. Yes, there was a change in the show over the years: it was on for almost 9 years, and change is inevitable in anything. But it was not the change that everyone said. The show never lagged in quality. It never lost what made it one of the best shows on television. What did change was the importance of the show. Towards the end of its run (okay, the ".1" of the 6th season), the enthusiasm that preceded the show was gone. A new season of Tony and Co. could not have possibly been greeted with the same Hurrah that greeted the 3rd season. If the final season had run three years earlier, people would have been running in the streets praising its realism, and relevance.

So while it sometimes frustrates me to have to prove try to convince others that, say, Lost is still a damn fine show, and if they gave you all the answers you wouldn't want to watch anyway, it pains me to see what is happening to The Wire this season. Now, I don't want to overact, because the season is only four episodes in, but there is something very wrong with what is going on this season. And no, it is not the controversial news room story line (which is only really controversial to those in the industry, as shown by their undying coverage of every move on the show). What makes the once (and possibly future) stellar show cringe-worthy is the disastrous "serial killer on the loose" storyline.

For those who aren't watching, first shame, shame, and deep shame on you! Where are your responsibilities, your sense of social duty, or at least awareness? Don't you know that just watching this show makes you a better person. Anyway, here is the deal: In order to launch a successful bid in the state of Maryland's Gubernatorial race, Mayor Carcetti has refused financial help that would ease his city's economic woes. This financial shortage trickles down to the police force, which can no longer afford to pay overtime, much less operate the Major Crimes Unit that sets all of The Wire's many plates a-spinning. And with Major Crimes out of commission, drug-dealer extroidainare Marlo is now free to consolidate his power and reign (props to Prop Jo. We will miss you, oh wise one!). McNulty, who has spent his sober time for the past two years trying to capture Marlo, is now furious and drunk with rage that Marlo will not see justice. "He doesn't get to win," he screams upon hearing the news. So McNulty has devised a plot to get the attention of the city and re-open the halted case: Invent a serial killer out of thin air, using dead bodies of white homeless men. McNulty, and now Freeman, bruise up and increasingly manipulate crime scene evidence to make it look like a red-ribbon loving madman is on the loose. The idea is that once the media gets a hold of the information (cue the Sun reporters), Major Crimes will be needed, and the small pieces of the Marlo case that are still left can be assembled.

Where I have such a colossal problem with all of this is in how television this all seems. Yes, I do know what I am watching, and no I have not deluded myself to think otherwise, but one of the things that has always set The Wire apart is how un-CSI the whole show is. I do understand the point that the well-intended writers are trying to make with this. The oversight and the beaurocratic mess that has led to this is such a travesty. I understand McNulty's desire, however drunken, to correct this travesty. But why take this road? I cringed when McNulty bought the red ribbon that is going to be the serial killers calling card, only because it seems so Dexterish. The Wire has always been so seamless for defying these conventions, these "that will only happen on television" scenarios that fuel so many cop and hospital shows. The Wire has always been like peering into something you know is happening two miles away from you. And with this new "Baltimore Biter" or whatever they will call the invented serial killer on the loose, I am aware that I am watching a fucking television show, and I feel cheated for exactly that reason. You might not really want to call The Wire an escapist drama, but it really is. It is miles and miles away from what passes as entertainment on network television. I just hope, with these last five or so episodes, it does not join the ranks of CSI and ER in "quality."

Hey there. As you requested, here is my blog. Hope you are thouroughly bored.