Perhaps  my biggest pet peeve when it comes to fantasy or sci-fi is when an author creates something compelling but refuses to let her characters use it as anyone otherwise would. One perfect example is the althiometer in The Golden Compass (crappy book). Pullman imagines into existence a handheld device that will tell you the truth about anything if you can learn to decipher it. Lyra, our snotty intrepid heroine figures it out and proceeds to ignore it until urgent situations. Were I to have such a device, I’d use it for everything. “Should I apply to this job?” “Who makes the best pizza in town?” “Will I like this book?” “What should I get my wife for her birthday?” Why shouldn’t I use a pocket watch that has the perfect answer to every question? Everyone would do so.

For the most part, Rowling avoids this pitfall, but she is a little guilty nonetheless. Remember when Gilderoy Lockhart accidentally blasts off Harry’s arm in The Chamber of Secrets? They take Harry up to the infirmary and regrow his arm overnight. This is just one of dozens of amazing medical feats performed throughout the books, which I would be just fine with me if it weren’t for one glaring oversight: Harry’s eyesight. If you can regrow an entire limb overnight, you’d think a little eye surgery would be rosy stroll. Why don’t they fix Harry’s–and for that matter everyone who has glasses in the books–sight? It makes no sense. I’m guessing Rowling likes her protagonist in specs, and that’s why the entire international magical community cannot figure out the human eye.

Another glaring problem in the Potterverse is the library system. It seemed like in every book Hermione, sometimes accompanied by Ron and Harry, spends hours and sometimes days and weeks searching for potions or names or a solution to whatever mystery is afoot. Apparently reference librarians are frowned upon at Hogwarts. Sure, sometimes our heroes are trying to solve the problem secretly and so avoid Madame Pince; however, I don’t see why these answers were so darned impossible to find. Is there no card catalog? Heaven forbid they have a computer in which to enter search terms or–(gasp)–the Internet. The Ministry of Magic needs to get Arthur Weasley off of trying to understand household appliances and onto forming a let’s-understand-the-Internet task force.

The last minor objection I raise to Potter  has to do with Quidditch. I love reading about the sport (you can’t beat those Slytherin v. Gryffindor matches for excitement), but the scoring system is abysmal. A goal, i.e. quaffle-through-hoop, is worth ten lousy points. For these goals, you dedicate almost your entire Quidditch team: three Chasers to score, two Beaters to play D, and a Keeper, of course. The match doesn’t end until someone catches the snitch, which is worth 150 points. For this purpose–obviously the most important and frequently the only one that matters–each team has one player. One. Were I a Quidditch coach with this flawed scoring system, I’d leave my keeper in goal and send everyone else out looking for the snitch. Once found, we would plow over everyone to allow our seeker to get there first. In most of the matches in the books, the majority of play and scoring has nothing to do with the outcome of the game. Lower the value of the snitch to something akin to 50 points: significantly higher than a goal but not worth the entire match.

So there you have it–petty complaints from a Harry Potter fan (but not devotee). I’ll never write anything as good as the Harry Potter series (if I write anything at all), but I feel that these tiny issues could have been easily addressed. Ah well. I’ll read the books again someday anyway. As an aside, for all of you movies-are-better-than-books people, millions of other readers and I have known for years how The Deathly Hallows ends. Try reading; I dare you.

All these crappy shows made me even more surprised to find The Big Bang Theory (TBBT), which is both hilarious and brilliant. The characters and plots are unique. The writing is sharp and witty. All of the actors excel in their respective roles. In short, TBBT is one of the best shows on television currently and a big part of why Thursday night is the best night on TV. It is one third of the comedy three-headed monster; the other two are NBC’s 30 Rock and, of course, The Office. Big Bang is so good that J and I have been forced to all but stop watching Community, which is another great show.

Indeed, the aforementioned trio of brilliant shows are some of the few programs that the wife and I consider appointment television. However, no one can watch his or her favorite shows every time they are on. We missed last week’s Big Bang Theory, but I wasn’t too sad because I figured I could watch it on CBS’s website. That is what I do whenever I’m unfortunate enough to miss The Office or 30 Rock because NBC is smart enough to put full episodes of its programs online. I was disappointed to find, however, that cbs.com has clips of TBBT but no complete episodes.

CBS, let me take you aside here for a moment. How has it not occurred to you that your audience will find its shows on your website if you put them there? If you are worried about decreased TV audience, simply upload the episodes after they air. Also, how is NBC doing so well with so much of its programs online? Furthermore, think of the advertising revenue. You air commercials on TV, but they are fleeting. Ads online last as long as you like, and you can sell the rights again and again.

Most importantly, having your shows online helps maintain audience loyalty. Fans of your shows want to keep abreast with developments, and they cannot schedule their lives around your TV schedule. This is the online era; put your content online. I might find an alternate route for watching last week’s TBBT, but I would have been delighted to visit your website, CBS, instead.

I hope that all networks will upload full episodes of their programs in time. Until that happens, CBS’s unwillingness to cater to its fans by putting shows online is just another example of its subpar modus operandi.

How much are you really?

Sure, he’s a likable character, I suppose (it’s the googly eyes–they’re irresistible!), but this Money fellow raises many questions. How does he get around? He doesn’t have legs, arms, or any other obvious means of locomotion, yet he is ubiquitous. A second and related question is how does he manage to travel so far? If he can’t propel himself, does he hitch rides on planes and cars? How does he afford all this travel? Does he spend himself? If so, does that mean you get less money if you sign up with Geico? Also, what is the Money’s incentive? Surely he cannot want to get paid–he is money. Does he crave human attention? Is he lonely? Is he dangerous? How does he get into places where he isn’t expected?

Blue = $100

Yes, the questions surrounding this pile of bills are many and complex, but on a more pragmatic level one question is paramount: how much money is the Money? It is apparent that he goes to great lengths to disguise his actual worth. What do I mean? Well, let’s start with straps. The Money is stacked two bundles high, and both bundles are held together with white and blue straps. Anyone who has experience with currency straps knows that blue straps are for $100 bundles. Blue straps usually are used for piles of one dollar bills; thus, it would seem that the Money is $200 plus two eyes.

But hold on there, my friend. He’s too thin to be made of 100 one-dollar bills. In addition to this fact, there is a further, more intriguing element: the bill on top of him is a five! Perhaps, then, we are to think that the Money is $200 worth of fives? Nay, I tell you, for straps of fives that are $100 are much thinner than the Money is. And lest you think he is made of a strap of fives, which is worth $500, you should know that $500 straps are red.

So what are we to think, then? What is Geico telling us about the money we could be saving with them? It seems to me that two possibilities remain: 1) the Money consists of $200 in some ungodly mish mash of bills; 2) the Money wears his straps like a mask, and there is no way to know for sure how much cash you and I can save by switching to Geico. Given that Geico, like all insurance companies, doesn’t want to promise savings it cannot deliver, it seems most likely that option two is the right one.

Money, I call for you to reveal yourself as you are. Unstrap yourself and lay yourself bare for the world to see. It is the only way for us to truly understand you. Do it for the American people, but, more than that, do it for yourself. It is only by looking within ourselves that we can understand our real value.

Failing that, the next time any of you see the Money taunting, following, or otherwise bothering you just to make his presence known, grab him, tear off his blue straps, and count him.

Hello, and welcome to Literary Corner. I’m your host, Snob E. Bookman, and tonight (or today depending on when you read this post) we interview Nathan who has just finished the first book of Marcel Proust’s epic seven-part novel In Search of Lost Time, entitled Swann’s Way. Why are we interviewing Nathan, you ask? Well, I’m a figment of his imagination, so I am accustomed to doing as he wishes. So now, let us bring in the star as of the show, so to speak, Mr. Nathan.

(Nathan enters and takes a seat in the empty squashy chair facing Bookman.)

SB: Good day, sir.

N: Good day to you.

SB: We are here to discuss Swann’s Way, which you have just finished reading. Tell me: why did you decide to read Proust?

N: Well, I’d heard a lot about him, as many people have. Proust is that hoity-toity author literary professors like to talk about but never actually assign (they do that with a lot of authors, actually). I’ve even heard him lauded as the best novelist of the 20th century. Naturally, I had to see if he lived up to the hype.

SB: Quite. Before we ask you whether or not Monsieur Proust exceed your expectations, let us first discuss a few aspects of the book itself, shall we? (He takes a pull from his bubble pipe and blows a bubble ring.)

N: Yes, let’s.

SB: Excellent. First, why don’t you give us a brief sketch of what the book is about?

N: That is a difficult task. The novel has three main sections. The first, Combray, is about Proust the narrator–

SB: You differentiate between Proust the author and Proust the narrator?

N: I do indeed, partially because the introduction to my edition suggested it that way, and partially because I don’t think Proust tries to represent himself as he truly is in the book. This isn’t an autobiography; it’s fiction.

SB: I see. Do go on.

N: (Takes a sip from his coffee) Mm, excellent coffee! Is this Caribou’s La Minita Peaberry?

SB: Indeed it is, good fellow. I don’t think you’d have imagined it any other way.

N: You’re right there. Anyway, back to the structure of the book. Combray is Proust’s recollection of growing up in the French countryside and the people, landscapes, and impressions he has of that time. The second part–and the largest–is called Swann in Love, and the title self-explanatory. Charles Swann (whom we meet briefly in part one) falls in love with Odette de Crecy, who doesn’t sound too attractive, by the way. At first they’re madly in love, but then complications arise as Swann finds out more about his mistress. Part three, Names of Places: The Name, covers a slightly older Narrator/Proust living in Paris. He frequently plays in the park on the Champs-Elysees where he falls in love with Gilberte, i.e. Swann’s niece. That’s probably enough synopsis.

SB: Agreed. Let us turn now to style, for which Proust is world famous. What did you make of it?

N: It is superb and he deserves his reputation on that count. True, it took me 100 pages to get the hang of it, but it is quite elegant. You see, Proust, who loves his asides and dependent clauses, often turns the sentence in various different ways, which can cause one to lose one’s sense of what the sentence is saying, especially if one is not careful or is sleepy, which, as we all know, makes reading for comprehension difficult under the best of circumstances; however, eventually, given that one continues reading Proust, one adopts a habit of not trying to make out the meaning of the sentence or, indeed, where (if anywhere) a given sentence may be heading, for Proust, like Odysseus in the legend, wanders the waters of meaning, encountering many distractions–as the sirens were for the Greek hero–before he meanders home to his lovely Penelope, which, in the epic simile I am currently employing, symbolizes what the crap he’s trying to say. It’s tough to get used to.

SB: I have no idea what you just said, but it sounded elegant and descriptive!

N: Well, there you are. Proust loves description more than just about anything. He lingers on every scene, every detail, and describes them all in minutia to the reader. He often goes on for a dozen pages about what a character’s feeling are about something he or she might do. Then, he abruptly brings about whatever the character was thinking about doing in a sentence. The rhythm is odd, but I got used to it and even enjoyed it at times.

SB: Let’s move onto characters. What did you make of them?

N: There are dozens of characters in Swann’s Way, but few of them matter much. The most important are Narrator/Proust, Odette, and the title character, M. Swann. Let’s start with the last of these. I liked Swann a lot at first because he held my attention. There is a bit of mystery about him for parts of the book. I wanted to see what he was all about. He grew less likable when Odette enters the book. At first their love affair is engaging and quite beautiful to read about, but when we find out what kind of person Odette is I grew impatient. I dislike her strongly, as I think you’re supposed to, but I couldn’t understand why Swann stays with her for hundreds of pages. What is he thinking?

SB: I think you’re a bit hasty here. Proust is not a novelist of logic but of emotion, surely.

N: Don’t call me Shirley. Go on, though.

SB: He isn’t interested in action, is he? He delves into the psyche of his characters and explores their emotions.

N: True enough. It isn’t that I didn’t notice or appreciate the talent that Proust displays in rendering emotions in powerful, tangible ways; it’s that I grew weary of lingering for long stretches of time in these depressing emotional states. It took far too long for Swann to confront Odette about her actions–I’m trying to avoid the word whoring.

SB: You have just failed.

N: (Takes a sip of delicious coffee) Yes, I did. Anyway, I wanted him to dump her because that’s the only move that makes sense. Of course, I grow impatient with other real people who are in bad relationships as well, so it helped me understand why people are so reluctant to extricate themselves from destructive relationships. That was of value.

SB: What of the plot of the book? You have confessed yourself a man who enjoys action.

N: Not so much action as development. I like to see movement from point A to…well, somewhere.

SB: All right, so what of Proust’s plot?

N: (Laughs) What plot? The entire book is continuous rumination on the same few things: memory, unrequited love, and loss. Nothing really happens. You could write a complete plot summary of the entire 600-some-page book on five pages. If plot is what you love about reading, don’t consider Proust. Stay away.

SB: Did you have other frustrations with the book aside from the long emotional scenes and lack of plot?

N: Yes, I did. I grew altogether weary of the narrator. He’s tiresome, whiny twerp!

SB: You don’t really mean to use the epithet twerp.

N: I do. Take the whole goodnight kiss from his mother–

SB: One of the most famous bits of the novel.

N: Yes. What kind of pansy kid gets so worked up over a goodnight kiss from his mom? He ruins his whole day wondering if his dad will let Mommy come and kiss him goodnight. You’re a kid! Go play outside and stop worrying. It’s not as if she won’t be there the next morning.

SB: You can’t relate to those tender scenes at all?

N: I can a little, I guess. But my recollection of childhood involves more playing and less worrying about something as trifling as a goodnight kiss. Perhaps if Proust didn’t come back to that theme so often I wouldn’t have hated it so strongly.

SB: But that is not his nature as a writer.

N: And that’s I why didn’t enjoy Proust very much: too much repetition and too much lingering in maudlin emotions–not enough motion in both plot and character interaction. He is the consummate writing of musings. The whole book is one enormous session of meanderings through his memory. I confess I didn’t see the point of most of his little recollections.

SB: But the recollections are the book! That longing to have the chance to turn back the clock and relive one’s life–that is the essence of Proust.

N: I agree but that doesn’t mean I enjoyed the book.

SB: Granted. That said, I presume you object to the notion of Proust as the best novelist of the 20th century.

N: You couldn’t be more right. He’s nowhere near that lofty title. I’d put at least a dozen if not more ahead of him, especially Joyce, Hemingway, Woolf, James (though he writes in two centuries)–even more recent writers such as Sebald or even Toni Morrison are better.

SB: So does that mean you do not intend to finish In Search of Lost Time?

N: Certainly not now. Perhaps someday I’ll take it up again.

SB: Finally, how would you rate Swann’s Way?

N: I give it three stars out of five. It has a lot of literary merit but not the kind that suits my taste.

SB: Very good. Well, that is all for Literary Corner. We thank our guest Nathan for being on the show.

N: You’re welcome.

SB: So from all of here…both of us…good night and happy reading.

N: Is there anymore coffee?

10. Cote d’Ivoire (Ivory Coast).

Most of the African sides chose to go with Puma for their uniforms, all of which feature a weird cut-out section on the right sleeve. This ill-conceived notion has kept many of the otherwise worthy African teams off of this list, but Cote d’Ivoire make it work better than anyone. I dig the orange and green, and the screened elephant on the right sleeve is a nice, subtle touch.

9. Portugal

The boys from Portugal have an excellent pair of jerseys for this World Cup. Their white “home” jerseys with the vertical red and green stripes are quite good, but it’s this red one with the horizontal green stripe that catch my eye. It’s a nice look, though I’m sure all the ladies would prefer Cristiano Ronaldo to be wearing no shirt at all…

8. Mexico.

Considering how obsessed Mexico is with the beautiful game, I’m always surprised that they don’t do better in World Cup play. These lovely green jerseys are quite nice. This year Adidas’ unis feature a plain color patch that interrupts their traditional three stripes on the shoulder and sleeves on most of their designs; I’m not a huge fan of that, but I dig the red and white collar. Mexico’s crest is pretty cool as well. These green duds are far, far better than their ugly black counterparts.

7. The Netherlands.

The Oranje made it to the final v. Spain, and I can’t help but think some of the credit is owed to these smashing construction-cone orange jerseys. I love that Holland has a flag that features red, white, and blue but wears orange everywhere. I’m sure there’s a reason for this tradition that I’m not willing to research, but whatever it is I applaud it. The color makes these jerseys memorable, but don’t overlook the wicked awesome lion crest.

6. Paraguay.

The red and white vertical striped uniforms from Paraguay represent what is wonderful about soccer uniforms: almost anything goes. Can you think of another major sport where a team could wear a jersey like Paraguay’s and look cool? Baseball? No. Football? Nope. Basketball maybe? Not yet, anyway. I dig the wide candy stripe outfits, Paraguay. The crest is pretty sweet as well. I also tip my cap to the full collar.

5. Spain.

La Furia Roja managed to live up to their hype in this World Cup, which is never easy to do. I thought for sure they would fall to the Germans, but they held the ball forever and scored on a beautiful corner kick to make the final. I picked them before the tournament, so I’m backing them tomorrow. Making all this success sweeter are the uniforms the Spanish don whenever they walk onto the pitch. I love the navy unis, but these red ones are extra nice. Spain’s enormous insignia is majestic, and I love the sleeve stripes. Bien hecho, muchachos.

4. United States.

The US blue away jersey has become my white whale (fitting for the blog title, no?). I held this magnificent jersey  in my own hands the week before the Cup started. The classy navy, the bold white stripe slanting from shoulder across the chest, the proud (but not all that great) US soccer crest on the chest. Oh, I wanted it. But it was $70 and, so I thought at the time, a frivolous purchase. I set it back on the rack and haven’t seen one since, though I have looked. Our white home unis were okay, but I love the design of blue ones. Sure, some Philistines call them “Miss America” jerseys, but what do they know? The fact that I can’t find one of these jerseys in stores or online speaks to their popularity.

3. Germany.

Give it up for Deutschland and their soccer aesthetics. Along with Spain, Germany had one of the best home/away jersey combinations in the tournament. Their whites with the thin vertical stripe that crosses under the crest are classy indeed, but these black jerseys are inspired. The black makes them menacing (which makes sense considering how amazing Germany is), and the red trim is a bold touch. I’m also a big fan of the off-white jersey numbers. Add all that to the classic eagle crest, and you have one impressive uniform. I’d be happy to snatch up one of these beauties if I find it for cheap. By the way, Germany is going to be a force in 2014. Wow.

2. Australia.

Australia had only two things going for it this World Cup: 1) their awesome nickname: The Socceroos; 2) their jerseys, especially this lovely yellow, white, and green one. Separating the shoulders from the chest with bold colors works well, and I also dig the white strip across the chest. The Aussies also have a kickin’ crest with a kangaroo and an emu; how cool is that? These jerseys are standouts even though the team wearing them wasn’t.

1. Argentina.

If there is one team who consistently delivers classy-looking jerseys at the World Cup, it’s Argentina. The Abicelestes always bring talent to the tournament and navy blue jerseys, but it’s these superb white and sky blue striped shirts that say “Argentina.” I occasionally wonder why other teams in other sports don’t adopt a thin vertical stripe design that Argentina works to perfection. It’s striking yet not overbearing and looks great on the field. I hope someone summons the courage to be bold and take a page from Argentinian soccer, but until someone does this design and color scheme will remain the signature of the Abicelestes and their proud history.

If you’re scoring at home (or even if you’re alone), that makes the final tally Puma 1, Nike 4, and Adidas 5. It has been a memorable World Cup both for striking sports attire and on-field action. My official pick for tomorrow is Spain 2, Netherlands 1. It should be an excellent final, and we’ll see who gets to have a star above their team crest the next time the World Cup rolls around.

Then, as I discussed previously, I received the magazine Paste as a gift one Christmas, and via its music sampler I encountered artists that were (1) talented, (2) unknown to me, and (3) not on the radio.  In the two years or so that I’ve received Paste, I’ve stumbled upon many excellent musicians that would otherwise be absent from my life; some of the artists have become staples of my music listening. In order to share the joy, dear reader, I’ve decided to list the songs from Paste that led to the discovery of an excellent band or artist.

This is a top ten list, but it’s not the ten best songs the magazine has sent me; there are many songs J and I love that have not resulted in the purchase of an album and/or further exploration of a given artist’s music. Rather, this list consists of songs that opened doors to rooms where unfamiliar and enrapturing music was playing. Perhaps this humble list will lead you to a new band or artist to love.

10. “People Got a Lotta Nerve” by Neko Case. When Neko Case’s wan face and vermillion locks graced the cover of Paste, two things were quite clear: Paste thought she was a big deal, and I had no idea who she was.  The wife and I loved “People Got a Lotta Nerve” with its playful tune and Case’s unmistakable alto belting out lyrics with imagery and wordplay. The singer is a man-eater, and she warns the boys by comparing herself to other lovable, dangerous creatures: “You know, they call them “killer” whales /  But you seem surprised when it pinned you down / to the bottom of the tank / Where you can’t turn around / It took half you leg and both your lungs.” Love it. We purchased Cyclone shortly thereafter, which is a good album but is still growing on me.

9. “Violet Stars [sic] Happy Hunting!” by Janelle Monáe. Any song that begins with “I’m an alien from outer space” grabs my attention, and when the drumbeats kick in, we couldn’t help but love “Violet Stars.” The tune is off of Monáe’s LP Metropolis–The Chase Suite wherein she takes on the guise of an android who has fallen in love with a human. It’s supposed to be a concept album, but she seems to drop the persona at times. In any case, the song was so infectious that we had to get Metropolis. Monáe is definitely a talent, and she is slowly becoming a media darling to boot.

8. “All the Pretty Girls” by Fun. All right, so they have a period in their band name, and that is most definitely annoying. However, “All the Pretty Girls” is so fun, clever, and musically unique that it had to make the list. The drums, piano and guitar are great, but it’s the three-part harmony that escalates this song into greatness. The song features a narrator who can’t find anyone he wants to date when he goes out on Saturdays: “I wish all the pretty girls were shaking me down / But not you, you still wear boots and your hair is too long / And then this one doesn’t want to admit she’s falling in love / Oh come on, come on, what’s a boy to do / when all the pretty girls don’t measure to you?” If all of that weren’t enough, the song also features the epic line “please don’t make me face my generation alone.” I hear you. Aim and Ignite (the disc the song is from) is an excellent buy.

7. “Chicago” by Lucy Wainwright Roche. I enjoy this song, which is a light commentary on human behavior, but we bought her first album 8 Songs rather than 8 More on which this song appears. Roche’s soft, lilting soprano infuses her songs with life and emotion. She does a lot of covers and folk tunes on 8 Songs, and she does them all well. “Bridge,” “Next Best Western,” and “Everywhere” are standouts.

6. “My Only Offer” by Mates of State. This piano-based pop song was one of our first loves from Paste, but it took us a while to purchase Re-Arrange Us, which is a good album. Mates of State is husband-and-wife group with unpredictable music which is a delight to listen to. “My Only Offer” ended up on just about all of our playlists.

5. “Belated Promise Ring” by Iron and Wine. I don’t think I liked Iron and Wine before we received the sampler with this brilliant song; J was already a fan. For me, though, “Belated Promise Ring” was the draw to Iron and Wine’s whispery folk music. The song is about Rebecca, the quirky woman the narrator loves, and all of her eccentricities. It’s the details of the song that make it superb: “I once gave to my Rebecca a belated promise ring / And she sold it to the waitress on a train / I may find her by the phone book with a fashion magazine / She may kiss me when her girlfriends leave again.” This focus on suggestive detail would make William Carlos Williams happy, and it makes for lovely song that rewards repeat listens. We own Our Endless Numbered Days, and I’m planning on picking up more Iron and Wine soon.

4. “Dream” by Priscilla Ahn. Here is a soft, lovely song about childhood and growing up voiced by the talented Priscilla Ahn. I love the picked acoustic, the evocative strings, and slow build of the song. As good as it is, “Dream” is hardly the best song on A Good Day; Ahn is sassy in “I Don’t Think So,” sweetly shy in “Wallflower,” offbeat in “Astronaut, “and funny in “Opportunity to Cry.” I dare you to listen to her without liking her. Go ahead. Try.

3. “Broken” by Tift Merritt. Our very first issue of Paste featured this number as the first song on the sampler. A couple of notes, some rhythm guitar, the opening riff, and then, “Once you were a straight shot / A shiny quarter in a new slot / Night would keep the dreams that you’ve got / Till afternoon.” Rhyming triplets?! No one does rhyming triplets, and even fewer people do them well. Yet here is Tift Merritt, with her country influences and captivating soprano singing about what happens when life is shattered by lost love, using rhyming triplets. The best lines have to be: “So close your eyes for this long / Something’s mixed up and something’s gone / Only fingers can you count on / When one leaves two.” Brilliant. We purchased Another Country, which is a lovely album that you should check out.

2. “That Moon Song” by Gregory Alan Isakov. The music of Isakov is one of the more recent loves of our Paste life, and it is a fervent affection I assure you. As usual, it was J’s superb taste that showed me the value of Isakov’s imagistic lyrics, acoustic sound, and rough, drawling voice. The artist is a native Coloradoan, and–this may seem odd–he sounds like the mountains. His music is lovely but earthy: “You came on strong like some running wave / Your beauty left me broke and hungry / Left me begging to the birds for a bone or offering / Left me saying nothing, nothing, like I always say.” This Empty Northern Hemisphere is a superb album. True, his baritone isn’t always right on the pitch, but his descriptive lyrics more than make up for that fault.

1. “Hideaway” by The Weepies. All right, I’ve written about Deb Talan and Steve Tannen’s band quite a bit already, so I won’t spend too many words here begging you to give them a listen. “Hideaway” is characteristic of the band in its simple instrumentation and intelligent lyrics, and it led us to purchase their LP Happiness, which we adore. After that, we had to get Hideaway and then Say I Am You (my personal favorite), all of which are excellent albums. Still not sated, we downloaded The Weepies iTunes sessions LP, which features a couple of songs from Deb and Steve’s solo careers. One of these songs, “How Will He Find Me” (one of my favorites) is also on Deb Talan’s album A Bird Flies Out, which we also acquired. Now I’m salivating over the band’s new album Be My Thrill, which is out in August. In the meanwhile, I think I’ll pick up Something Burning–another of Deb’s albums–to tide me over. The Weepies are my favorite band, and I can listen to them anytime, anywhere, no matter the mood or situation. They are that good.

So there you go: some of my favorite music from our various Paste samplers. Naturally, I had to make some cuts to pare the list down. Here are the honorable mentions and their albums: The Avett Brothers, I and Love and You; State Radio, Calling All Crows; Anathallo, Canopy Glow.

You’ll notice some differences between the blogs. First, J is a co-author on the new site and will post updates along with yours truly. In fact, she wrote the initial post; my moniker is attached because she forgot to sign me out. Second, the design element is much improved on the new blog. J created the header herself (I watched her do it), and it looks far better than anything I’ve attempted design-wise on this blog. You can expect more of the same from her in the future. Third, we’ve created (i.e. J created) a spot where our dog Lucy gives her thoughts on baby-related issues. If all of that isn’t enough to get you to click the above link, you should know that the first post announces whether our firstborn is a boy or girl!

Don’t worry; Ahab’s Quest isn’t going anywhere. I’ll continue to post my thoughts. Now that the school year is over, I’ll probably be posting more regularly here again. There is a lot I’ve been wanting to write about. The wife and I hope you enjoy both blogs, dear reader, and thank you for stopping by to keep up with our lives. We appreciate it.

In this book, Kundera is interested in different people’s views of love and sex, and (as the title suggests) just how easily our lives are ruined, lost, and forgotten. He uses mainly four characters in the book to accomplish his ends: Terez, Tomas, Sabina, and Franz, all of whose lives are subject to their respective fundamental ideals. The first three characters form a love triangle which is then undone, and Sabina meets Franz later. For a book with so much sex in it (there’s a lot), Unbearable Lightness is more about what drives people to make decisions than love per se. As one expects with a postmodern novel, Kundera isn’t interested in moralizing here; he explores his characters psychologically. Their interactions are simultaneously loaded with meaning and completely bereft of it–like life in general, perhaps.

The best part about this book is the way Kundera takes an object or idea and then stretches it to the limit of its meaning to see what he can squeeze out of it. One example is the bowler hat on the cover, which is symbolic of a myriad of different relationships that Sabina has had, yet the hat never transcends itself.

Even more fascinating is the extended exploration of “shit” and “kitsch” at the end of the book: “The objection to shit is a metaphysical one. The daily defecation session is daily proof of the unacceptability of Creation.” (248). On the other hand, “kitsch is the absolute denial of shit…kitsch excludes everything from its purview which is essentially unacceptable in human existence” (248). Which is the better worldview: one that includes everything we hate about existence or one that deliberately ignores all things unpleasant?

The discussion of kitsch gets even more intriguing when Kundera attaches it to politics. He writes that politics always bring trenchant division in the public because “political movements rest not so much on rational attitudes as on the fantasies, images, words, and archetypes that come together to make up this or that political kitsch” (257). This statement couldn’t be more true today.

Milan Kundera creates his novel as a vehicle for him to take up ideas and words he wants to explore, and the narrative serves that end. I wouldn’t say the story is lacking–it is compelling now and again–but to write a great tale isn’t what Kundera is after. He wants you so grapple with challenging issues and ideas that make up society, and he is successful at doing so. I liked the book but not as much as <i>Immortality</i>, which stays lighter in mood and is funnier. ★★★★

Two lines on both. Yep, that's conclusive evidence.

Well, it is probably more accurate to say that J is! We found out in January that my beautiful wife is expecting our first child, and it has been an exciting and bumpy ride since. People talk about morning sickness and having a rough first trimester, but I had no idea what they meant (besides a general feeling of sympathy) until these past few months. As some of you know, morning sickness can happen at any time, and it can happen all the time. Unfortunately, that’s what the wife endured through January and February.

However, we are now into the second trimester, which we were looking forward to most eagerly, and things are looking up. J feels much better. She even cooks sometimes now! We also just got back from going to church for the first time in a while; J just wasn’t up to going for a month or two. I’m overjoyed to that she’s feeling more like herself these days. It feels as if I have my wife back.

We are still wrapping our minds around having a kiddo of our own, but it helps to have friends who have already gone through pregnancy or are experiencing its unique combination of joy and discomfort right now. We really appreciate all the well wishes and prayers from all of you, and we’ll post news and pictures as the pregnancy rolls on.

Here is a picture of the wife about thirteen weeks in:

J is holding back her dress a bit to emphasize the bump that is daily becoming more and more evident.

Oh, and for those of you who wonder, we are due September 26!

The characters in this novel are all well conceived and complex. Liesel, the protagonist, is soft-hearted but tough and willingly steals from strangers, as does her friend Rudy who also dresses as Jesse Owens (complete with blackened skin). Papa is a quiet and loving man who quietly resists the Nazis, while Mama’s verbal abuse almost disguises her strong heart. My favorite character, though, is Death, who narrates this book. Banish your preconceptions about who Death is and trust Zusak; his Grim Reaper is unrelenting but also caring. He executes his job (pun intended) despite his wishes.

The prose is fluid and enticing. You are drawn into the world of the book effortlessly, and you are immediately invested. Death paints the story in colors both bright and faded. Zusak uses foreshadowing effectively and interestingly to keep the pages turning because of and in spite of what you know. At times the author chops up his text a bit too much for me; I rarely enjoy sentence fragments. However, the vibrant story always compels.