The wife and I changed things up a bit last weekend and actually went to the cinema! That is unbelievable already, but we went even further and saw a movie that had just come out, viz. Where the Wild Things Are. J loves the book by Maurice Sendak (I like it, too), and Paste had it as their cover story for last month’s issue. In other words, we were interested. I was more than a little skeptical of a feature-length movie made from a children’s book consisting of only a few sentences; however, the film is quite enjoyable and its emotional power comes from psychology.

There were several things that I was leery of going into the movie. First, I hoped that the producers and director wouldn’t stray too far from the original book, and they did not. The only departure that bothered me was that instead of going upstairs to bed and imagining the forest growing up around him and then getting on the boat to the island, Max runs away from home and gets on his imaginary bark. I loved the idea of creating a new world in a familiar place. Still, this is a small complaint. Of course there are other departures such as the wild things having names and pretty much everything that happens on the island, but I knew there would need to be much added content. I think the movie captures the spirit of the book fairly well.

Another concern I had going in was that the monsters would disappoint me. Would they look right? Would they be silly? Annoying? What would they sound like? In this facet, the film did not disappoint at all; I loved the wild things as they are rendered. They have adult human voices and do not sound goofy, which is important. Max’s imaginary world is real to him. The look of the monsters is incredible–they look just like the book. I was able to sympathize with them and care about them, but they remain scary and dangerous too.

My largest worry was that once Max got on the island, the action would be boring and/or absurd. It isn’t (mostly). The plot on the island with Max and the wild things is quite good–powerful at times. Max meets these enormous creatures who scare him. He eventually befriends them and is crowned their king via some fast-talking. He quickly realizes that his job as king is to make all of the wild things happy; they have feuds and rivalries among them. Max promises peace and happiness, and things go along swimmingly for a while. But soon he finds out that he cannot please them all; he is a just a kid.

Max’s relationship with the wild things is the most interesting aspect of the movie because one can see a part of Max in each monster. The wild things are projections of different parts of Max’s psyche. KW resembles Max’s sister who has friends besides Max but still loves him. Alexander is the smallest monster, and the others never listen to what he says, just as Max feels he is ignored in real life. Interestingly, Max, too, ignores Alexander for most of the film. Douglas is the more rational side of Max–the Horatio to Carol’s Hamlet. Carol, Max’s best friend (and my favorite monster from the book), is almost a second Max; he feels deeply and loves his friends, but when he loses control of his emotions, he is out of control and dangerous. The other monsters seem like parents or naysayers at times.

The emotional power of the movie comes from watching Max try to make these monsters–these pieces of himself–get along. He loves them all (excepting the Bull, maybe), and it hurts him that he is powerless to heal the rifts among the monsters. Wild Things forces the viewer to see things through the eyes of a child. Max wants so badly to avoid the things that hurt him and others, but he is incapable of control. It reminded me strongly of the times when I was upset as a child and wanted to make things “right”–right as I saw it, of course; but that is not life. We long for understanding and acceptance, yet when we find it we don’t know how to sustain that joy. We hurt each other. In that way, Max’s struggle in this movie and in the book is everyone’s struggle.

Fortunately, the story doesn’t end there. As in the book, Max realizes this pretend world he’s created is too much for him to govern; he sails home where his mother is waiting for him with a warm dinner. He finds peace in his mother’s love. No, he cannot control himself or life, but at least he knows someone loves him.

The movie is well made and enjoyable to watch. I would not take my children to it were I a parent. There are parts that would be scary for kids, and the psychology of the movie is its strength; I do not know if kids would understand it. Then again, children love the book, which features so many similar themes. Maybe I’m underestimating what a child is capable of understanding. In any case, it is a movie worth seeing, though I don’t think watching at home on DVD would subtract too much from the experience. ★★★★ (of five)

Last Saturday was the first Saturday I had off from work in a very long while. In fact, excluding a sick day and the PTO days I took because I was out of town, I literally cannot remember the previous Saturday off of work. Needless to say, it was a Godsend. Perhaps almost as needless to say, Colorado is a beautiful place to be in the fall, and a hike with the wife was in order.

We set off a tad too late in the day (we were tired and slept in), but that didn’t matter because the day was sunny and cool. I chose Breckenridge as the spot where we would recreate this time. The trail I found was the hike to Mohawk Lake/Continental Falls. My wife loves waterfalls, so I knew this would be a good choice. I was also excited to eat some yummy food at a Breckenridge restaurant after the hike was over. The trail we took is just south of Breckenridge off Highway 9. It is 3.5 miles one way and has a 1700 foot elevation change. That is a lot.

Commence photo essay:

This is what our trail looked like for the first two miles or so. It had just snowed recently, so the path was slippery. J wore hiking shoes; I wore worn-out tennis shoes. Advantage: J. Perhaps this picture doesn’t show the incline in the trail; we went up pretty much the entire way. The woods were beautiful in the snow, however.

After the first two snow-strewn miles, we came across this beautiful meadow/pond. Perhaps you might call it a wetland? In any case, it was beautiful in the early afternoon sun after all the shade we had been in. This view is basically west and toward our destination, give or take.

This is the view a little to the left of the photo above. The brightness of the sun shows in the haziness of the photo.

This bird we first encountered at the same spot as the two pictures above. We were snacking a bit and having some water, and this bird was not shy about begging. He flew at me a couple of times. He then proceeded to follow us for the rest of the hike, popping up sporadically. I was not a fan of this guy after a while.

Part of our motivation for this hike was to see the autumnal foliage. Here is a lovely example.

Another reason why we chose this hike was to see the abandoned log cabins. This is the first we saw; it’s about three miles in. It was hard to fathom building such a domicile at that particular location and planning to live there. Crazy.

Here is J crossing the threshold.

A bit farther along, we came across this rock formation that reminded me of something out of The Lord of the Rings. Naturally, I posed nobly on it. We then discovered that this is actually a part of the trail, and we climbed over it and went on.

As we got higher, the view became more spectacular. Here we are beginning to rise above the tree line, and the whole valley is coming into view.

Just before the lower falls, we came across three more abandoned cabins. This one looks like it is used occasionally by hikers. There is a stove of sorts in there and a sign-in book. Another hiker was kind enough to photograph us.

Lower Continental Falls. Perspective is hard to gain here; the falls are at least twenty feet high here, and there is a lot of rushing water roaring by. These are some of the best falls we’ve seen since Yellowstone.

Here are the upper falls. Again, they are quite sizable and gorgeous. It was well worth the trip to see them.

We thought there would be more to see, but we had to make a steep ascent to get higher. It’s so steep that there are cables from an abandoned mill that are provided to help one climb up. I am demonstrating.

The remnants of the old mill. Again, it was surreal to imagine someone constructing a functioning mill way up there. There is something about ruins that gives one pause.

We climbed to the top of the rise to see the source of the falls. It wasn’t too great. The view back over the valley, however, was amazing, as you see. If you look closely (or if you had a higher quality version of this picture), you can see Breckenridge to the upper left just over the ridge next to the pine tree on the left.

After we saw all that, we had to hike down. The sun was setting by the time we got all the way back to our car. It took us an hour less to hike back down, partly because the snow had melted a little by then. However, it felt like forever. It was splendid to get back into our car and make for Breckenridge. We ate dinner at an Italian place; then, we bought chocolates and a cookie from local treat shops before heading home. It was a great day.

By the way, the hike we took is rated “moderate.” If you’re an average hiker, “moderate” means “difficult.” If you’re someone who climbs 14ers every other weekend, “moderate” means “moderate.” I’m just giving you the heads-up.

Due to the abundant generosity of my parents, I have in my possession an iTunes gift card with a fair amount of money on it that I got for my birthday. ITunes gift cards are wonderful things. They say, “You’ve been wanting that music for a while now; go buy it!” And buy, I will. I already know some albums and songs I’m going to buy (Neko Case’s Middle Cyclone comes to mind), but I could use some ideas, too.

That’s where you come in, dear reader. What are some of your favorite albums, artists, and/or songs? Tell me about the music you don’t want to live without, and, if you know me, the music I probably don’t have. What are those desert island albums for you? I will check out your suggestions as I see fit, and–who knows?–maybe I’ll add some of your favorite tunes to my humble collection. Also, argue persuasively: tell me why you love this music, what makes it great, and anything else you’d like to say. Of course, if you’d rather not, you may ignore this prompt altogether.

If all of the above sounds too much like an assignment (I think it probably does), please excuse me. I’m still getting accustomed to being a professor. However, I value your input, and I know my musical knowledge is somewhat limited.

Let the music play!

This year, J and I have gone through a lot of setbacks that I won’t bother to list. We all go through such times, I know. One disappointment for me was applying for a teaching job at a local college where I had been working as a writing center tutor. They basically told me, “No teaching experience, no way,” and I gave up. However, J encouraged me to give it one more go.

So it was that I called another area college* just to see if they had anything available that could give me teaching experience. I left a voice mail that sounded something like, “I was wondering if you had any teaching jobs open or even just a chance to TA and gain some experience.” A day later, to my surprise, I got a phone call from the school informing me of an opening for teaching freshman composition and how to apply. Fast forward two weeks and two interviews, and I have my very first class teaching English composition!

Classes start Monday, and I have a lot of preparatory work to do, including arranging a syllabus and laying out assignments. I got the books we’re using today and look forward to perusing them. I ran errands all over the place today to get myself integrated into the system over there, locate my office, figure out where my classroom is (my classroom!), and turn in all of the perfunctory paperwork. I feel like I’m being tossed into the deep end, sure, but I know how to swim. And it has been a very hot day.

I want to thank everyone who wished me well and/or prayed for me this year as the wife and I continue to stumble our way through this crazy existence. I am definitely blessed to have this opportunity, and though it will be challenging, I’m excited to get started. I know I’m going to grow a lot this semester, and I hope I can help my students grow, too. This small success is all the sweeter because I’ve had to go through some hard stuff to get here. Hmm, maybe I should learn a lesson here…

*I withhold the name of the school for privacy reasons, just in case. However, it wouldn’t take much detective work to figure it out if you really want to.

Somewhere around Lincoln, NE, my lovely wife and I finished “reading” (listening to) Elizabeth Gilbert’s renowned memoir Eat, Pray, Love. We had been enjoying it through our two recent trips back to the Midwest; there’s nothing like listening to a good book while you drive to kill time. Gilbert possesses an obvious talent at writing, and her journey (literal and figurative) is usually quite engaging. Indeed, the book has given me a lot to ruminate upon, especially spiritually. Thus, I was fully expecting to be wowed by the finish, but instead both J and I were disappointed. There is so much that is valuable in these pages (or CDs), but Gilbert leaves me to wonder what might have been. How do you evaluate a book that is wonderful 80% of the time but ends poorly?

So close to being amazing

If you’re unfamiliar with Eat, Pray, Love (EPL), let me catch you up. The book chronicles Gilbert’s yearlong journey from Italy to India to Indonesia (Bali) as she tries to figure out who she is and what to do with her life. She’s just come through a terrible divorce and a failed romance (different guys), and she needs to get a handle on herself. She decides to visit three different places that would help her work on specific characteristics of her life. She chooses Italy for its pleasure (especially culinary), India for its devotion, and Indonesia to find balance in her life.

One way to think about this book is to separate its different aspects and evaluate them individually. I think Gilbert would be on board with this idea because she clearly loves overt structure. The book is one third travel writing, one third spiritual odyssey, and one third autobiography.

It should come as no surprise to those who know me that the travel element of the book is my favorite. I haven’t traveled much, and I love hearing about all these different places she visits. However, my reasons for choosing the travel writing aspect of the book as my favorite extend beyond my desire to see the world; Gilbert is an extremely gifted travel author. She is skilled at making places come alive and uses imagery and description effectively and wonderfully. Listening to the book turned out to be a visual experience as well as an auditory one.

The second best facet of EPL in my view was her spiritual journey. As a Christian, it was constantly fascinating to see how Gilbert goes about her search for God, where she finds Him, and where she doesn’t. Gilbert’s faith exists outside of all the standard world religions, but she focuses mostly on Asian practices, especially meditation, to get where she’s going. She has a lot of prophetic dreams, and those were compelling. She definitely causes me to re-evaluate much of my assumptions regarding other belief systems; that needed to happen. However, Gilbert never really gets to her desired destination, i.e. close to God. She has amazing visions, yes, and who am I to say they aren’t real? Still, she seeks God on her own terms in her own ways, and that goes only so far. Also, she is surrounded on this journey by those who ceaselessly tell her the classic religious lie, “All religions are basically the same. They’re just different paths to the same end.” No. I think Gilbert proves my point by how her book ends.

The least interesting aspect of the book, for me, was the author’s personal life. Yes, it is a memoir, so I expected a good dose of Gilbert’s life to be in these pages. However, she comes off as self-obsessed after a while. I grew tired of her whining about how awful her divorce was (that would be the divorce she asked for) and how torn up she is that “David” and she can’t get along. As her travels progress, she moves beyond these emotional issues only to pick up other ones down the line. I get the feeling that Elizabeth Gilbert is a messy person–one who can’t help but immerse herself in drama wherever she goes.

I’m making EPL out to be a terrible book, which it is not, so let me talk about some of its many laudable aspects. Let me reiterate that Gilbert is a gifted author; she is obviously made to write. Her prose is always evocative, descriptive, and arranged well. She knows what she’s doing. Listening to her perform her own book is also a joy. She brings out all of the various accents of the friends she makes on her trip, from the Italian English spoken by Giovanni, to the Southern drawl of Richard from Texas, to the broken English of Ketut Liyer in Bali. It is a good choice for a book to listen to.

Reading EPL is an entrancing experience. Gilbert is eager and able to transport you to the places she goes, make you feel how she feels, and craft her experiences such that they are meaningful to all that hear about them. There is a lot of light and wisdom in this book. I was constantly being shown how close-minded I can be regarding other people–a hateful characteristic, indeed. The author is right about a lot of things: make space for God in your life, pursue things that are meaningful, friends can be found anywhere, and a happiness requires hard work. I profited a lot from this read.

Okay, let’s talk about selfishness. Apparently, Gilbert gets accused of being selfish a lot as a consequence of writing this book. After all, she breaks off her marriage and then spends pages complaining about how much it hurts. She then sends herself on a round-the-world journey doing things she wants to do and staying at places she wants to be in order to learn about…herself. This issue must be raised a lot because the author responds to it on her website. She argues that going on her journey was valuable because by becoming a better person, she is now less of a burden on those around her: “Saving my own life (through therapy, medication, prayer and–most of all–travel) was something I did for my own benefit, yes, but I can’t help but think that it was ultimately also a little bit of community service.” I like this idea, but I’m not entirely persuaded.

Overall, this is a good read, and I guess I’d recommend it; I definitely won’t tell people not to read it. I asked J if she’d listen through it again, and she said at least the first two sections (Italy and India) are worthy of more time; I agree. I’m not certain that I’d put myself through the entirety of emotional experience of this book again, though. 3.5 stars. And I definitely plan to eat at Pizzeria da Michele.

For those who want to know what I disliked so much about the finish of EPL, read on (SPOILERS AHEAD):