The most tragic soul

Life is hectic when you’re spinning a lot of plates so I’ve only time to watch a few well-written TV series. One of those is Mad Men, which launched its fifth season last night after a year-and -a-half-hiatus. I’m happy to report the cast of characters are as deliciously flawed as ever, and that I was quickly reminded this show truly isn’t about 1960s advertising execs on Madison Avenue; that is indeed just the setting. The show is about everything we value most and everything we fear the most.

I came into the series late, watching the first four seasons on Netflix over the past two years. Mad Men is the kind of show that grows on you, and then pulls you along like it was actually in control the whole time. The attraction begins as soon as you realize it’s an uber-character-driven show. Flawed people who want nothing more than to love and be loved and find purpose in their lives are very compelling creatures.

Watching the show’s iconic anti-hero Don Draper descend last night again into his tortured persona revealed to me anew how much the “ad men” setting is perfect for the story the writers want to tell. Said reviewer David Weigand in the San Francisco Chronicle, Don Draper is “slick, smooth, drunk, haunted, and ultimately on the run from himself. His job, his purpose in life is to sell illusion.”

There have been a few shining moments in Don Draper’s life, but they never happen when he’s being Don Draper. Remember those tender moments in seasons past when Don compassionately cared for the widow of the man whose identity he pilfered? That man, the man we barely know, is the last bit of Don Draper that seems redeemable. Now that the widow is gone from the landscape, when will we see that good man again? I shudder to think what the writers will have to do to drag that buried bit of Don Draper to the screen now that Anna is gone. And they will have to drag that part out now and then, or we will cease to care about him.

If you watched last night’s episode, you probably noticed the subtle hints that Don Draper is still the most tragic soul on TV. And he thoroughly believes he deserves no happiness. When his lovely new wife attempts to seduce him with arguable loveliness how does he respond? When she does the exact opposite – when she taunts him with ugliness – how does he respond? Did you notice that even the white carpet is something Don Draper feels he doesn’t deserve?

It’s said that there are currently seven seasons planned for Mad Men. This is the beginning of the fifth. As a story-lover, I can tell you I won’t mind if the writers take Don to depths of his own personal hell, but I so very much want this tortured man to find the courage and hope to somehow climb out of it. He might need some help along the way, a savior of some kind to show him the way out. I hope there is one waiting in the wings of Season 7. I am not so much hoping for a happily ever after ending, but rather to be able to say when the credits roll, “It was worth watching the entire angst-ridden series to see it end this way.”

What we’re hungry for

My college-age son came home for spring break in the wee hours last night. He had attended the midnight showing of The Hunger Games along with thousands of fans across the nation eager to see the heroine Katniss Everdeen battle gentrified injustice the likes of which I hope never to see happen in real life. He and I have both read The Hunger Games trilogy, both were spellbound by the over-arching story, both liked books 1 and 2 better than book 3 and both were eager to see it played on the screen.

It was good, he told me this morning, really good, but he said it was obvious how much the violence factor had to be toned down for a PG-13 audience. If you’ve read the books, this won’t surprise you. I am not one to read and watch gore, so I must say that the violence contained in The Hunger Games isn’t what makes the story good, but it certainly is what makes the story compelling. The stakes are incredibly high for the book’s heroine, as high as you could imagine in a dystopic world where compassion and decency have been turned upside down. Telling the story on screen as it was told in the pages certainly would have given it an R-rating. But truly, it’s not the violence that draws; it wasn’t that for me. The story manages to transcend the violence in a way that surprises me.

In case you’ve been underground or writing a doctoral thesis or in a coma, The Hunger Games is a young adult novel by Suzanne Collins that came out a few years ago and quickly became a mega-bestseller across all the age demographics. The basic premise, nicely summarized in this morning’s San Diego Union Tribune, is this: “‘The Hunger Games’ is set in Panem, a violent, post-apocalyptic world broken up into 12 districts. Every year, the Capitol mandates that a boy and girl from each district be sent to fight to the death in The Hunger Games, a televised competition in which the winner is the last person alive. When 12-year-old Primrose Everdeen is selected to be a tribute, her older sister, Katniss, volunteers to go instead.” The story is about love foremost, justice and mercy, second, and third and finally, in my opinion, survival.

Relevant Magazine has an insightful article that addresses how the trilogy and now the movie has captured young and not-so-young audiences alike. It’s because at its core, The Hunger Games is not a book about survival in a gladiator’s arena. It’s about love and hope and redemption, and very different from the last YA craze, The Twilight series. I especially love this quote from the RM article, because it gives us a glimpse of how Katniss – in the company of her fellow Arena tribute, Peeta – can dare to see hope despite her circumstances: “Perhaps the most righteous character we find in this story is the beloved “boy with the bread.” Peeta Mellark is kind to a fault. He is giving. He is slow to anger, but quick to defend others. When we first meet him, he’s risking a beating to provide bread for Katniss’ family, wanting nothing in return. While even our heroine at times relies on her powers of manipulation or allows despair and anger to direct her actions (and her bow), Peeta is a glowing example of counter-cultural authenticity and radical love. In Peeta’s famous monologue the night before the tributes are sent to battle in the arena, he expresses his intent to maintain “his purity of self,” even though behaving otherwise could be easier, even safer for him. “I don’t know how to say it exactly. Only … I want to die as myself … I don’t want them to change me in there. Turn me into some kind of monster that I’m not.”

I may wait for the hoopla at the box office to taper, as I am not one to want to wait in a line for anything other than Caribou Coffee, but I will definitely see what Hollywood has done with one of my favorite reads of the last couple years. Interested in the trailer? Well, here it is:

Do for one…

I am careful about using this blog space for purposes that go beyond your reading experience. I want you, dear reader, to feel like we are good friends who like to chat here about the things that matter to us. I have never wanted this blog to feel like a billboard of any kind. But today I am bringing to you a matter that can (and will, I hope) go beyond your brief reading experience.

Children’s HopeChest is an organization dear to me because of its heart for the most vulnerable of human beings – the world’s orphaned young. Their mission statement is simple: “Children’s HopeChest believes that every orphan has the right to know God, experience the blessing of family, and have the opportunity to develop independent living skills.” I had the opportunity to meet the CEO, Tom Davis, at a conference a couple years ago, and I was moved by what Tom told me about the plight of orphans, many of whom live in areas where traffic is not about cars on the commute home from work. (If you haven’t read Tom’s book, Fields of the Fatherless, may I suggest you pick it up pronto and read it).

Sometimes when we expose ourselves to the desperate needs of thousands upon thousands we can immediately feel emotional exhaustion that is accompanied by this thought: “The need is too big and I am only one person. I can’t change anything.” I know that feeling. I have learned though, that not only is the Starfish Story a good antidote to that kind of defeatist thinking, a new perspective on what I am called to do helps too. I am not responsible for solving the entire problem. But I can do one thing for one person, can’t I? And isn’t that better than doing nothing? I heard it said best at Catalyst West last October: Do for one what you wish you could for everyone.

So here’s one small things you can do today. The people at Children’s Hope Chest have partnered with Simply Love and Man Up! to produce a set of limited-edition t-shirts. This exclusive design can only be purchased at the Children’s HopeChest t-shirt store.

Proceeds from the sale of shirts will support two critical projects. All women’s t-shirt sales will support 37 children living in an orphanage in Pignon, Haiti. All men’s t-shirt sales will provide funding for 8 survivors of human trafficking living at the Beginning of Life rehabilitation home in Moldova.

And as a special incentive, for every shirt you buy, you will receive one entry into a drawing for a free mission trip. The winner receives a certificate that covers both land and airfare (max $3,000 value). The winner will be announced on Facebook, on Monday, April 2, 2012. What’s the purpose of the mission trip? Mission trips can be life-changing in that your awareness can be significantly raised, such that when you return, you are not the same. When you return, you become an advocate here for the people you met there. And as an advocate, you find that you are suddenly able and impassioned to recruit a whole new army of starfish throwers because of that experience you had.

It can start with one t-shirt…

The Remedy For Regret revisited

I am happy to announce that another of my older novels, The Remedy for Regret, has been brought back from that sad place where out-of-print books go! This book was originally published in 2005, edited by the marvelous and gifted Nick Harrison. And it has a special place in my heart. It is set in five different locations, two of which are rather sentimental to me. One is the northeast corner of Arkansas where my husband and I were stationed the first year of his Air Force career – and where one of our sons was born – and Oxfordshire, England, another Air Force assignment and the place where another of our sons was born.

Its original cover featured a polka-dot purse that I loved for lots of reasons. The woman carrying it you didn’t see – just her gloved hand as she held on to a railing. At first glance you might think I was suggesting the remedy for regret is to go shopping. While that may be a temporary fix for remorse (!), the book isn’t about shopping or purses. It’s about a young woman named Tess who daily wrestles with the knowledge that the mother who gave birth to her, and who died right afterward, would still be alive had Tess not been born. She has lived with the specter of feeling responsible for her her mother’s death all her life, and the father who raised her – without the woman he loved- never caught on he was largely responsible for Tess feeling that way.

Tess grew up without having a mother’s purse lying around the house but she had seen them at friends’ houses. She knew a mother’s purse was like an extension of the woman who owned it. It held a wallet fat with pictures of her children, lipstick kisses on her tissues, hand lotion that smelled like jasmine, her keys, and a little calendar with all the dates of the things that were important to her penciled in. And because Tess knew a purse was like this, she was drawn to them. Not like a klepto who wants to steal, but like a wounded soul who wants absolution.

That’s why there was a purse on the front of the original Remedy for Regret. This time around we went with a less metaphorical take. I loved the purse motif but it perhaps did not communicate what the book was about, leading people to think a shopping spree at Nordy’s was the cure for things you wish you could change but can’t.

This new cover features a Tess who needs balm for her soul. And the flower, a nod to the magnolia blossoms that show up a time or two in the story, suggests she will find it. This girl on the front clearly is looking for something; the petaled bloom promises she will find the remedy she needs.

If you’re a Kindle reader, here’s the link. If you’re Nook reader, here’s the link.

And before I go, I am wondering if there’s anyone else out there who had a fascination for their mother’s purse when they were little. I wrote this aspect of the story because I found comfort in seeing my mother’s purse lying around the house and knowing that she could pretty much fix any problem I had by pulling something out of it. What about you? Can you relate? Do tell…

Archive: March 26, 2012

The most tragic soul

What we’re hungry for

Do for one…

The Remedy For Regret revisited