My favorite things 2012

I’m not usually one to spend a lot of time gazing backward but I think it’s a good idea to make some mental notes at the threshold of a new year so that I don’t forget the lovely things that came my way in the old year. So as 2012 comes to a close here’s a recap of my stand-out favorites, in no particular order.

Favorite book: This is always an impossibly hard choice to make. I read some wonderful books over the past twelve months. Of my top three for the year, which include The Secret Keeper, The Language of Flowers, and Age of Miracles, I have to say, Kate Morton’s The Secret Keeper wins the day. The funny thing is, this story took me a few hundred pages to get lost in, but once I was completely under the spell, I couldn’t wait to get back to those pages. The book I read the quickest because it was so compelling was the the dystopic and mesmerizing Age of Miracles. Made me fall in love with gravity and the perfect way our sun shines on our planet. No joke. And The Language of Flowers just made me glad I had parents who love me.

Favorite movie: Despite my earlier blog post on the same flick, I love Les Miserables. I did. I have made peace with the disappointments that made me wince in my theater seat the night I saw it. I still can’t quite forgive Hugh’s treatment of “Bring Him Home” and Russell’s unremarkable and distasteful plunge into the river of his self-loathing, but those nitnoid annoyances aside, I can’t wait to see it again. A close second is Life of Pi. Film adaptations of wholly original storylines don’t always come across well. This one, however, was the story I saw in my head when I read the book several years ago. Well done.

Favorite meal: Would you believe a pork loin dish at the Cafe Orleans in Disneyland made my list? Surprised the heck out of me, too. It was delish, served on a lovely bed of mascarpone polenta with grilled sweet potatoes and andouille sausage. The only thing missing was a buttery Chardonnay. And it wasn’t just the festive atmosphere, or that I was celebrating my wedding anniversary with my soulmate at the happiest place on earth. It was surprisingly amazing. Oh, and the pumpkin creme brulee was TDF.

Favorite song: Are you sick of Philip Phillips’ HOME? I hope not. 2012 is probably the last season of American Idol I will watch. My new fave singing show is The Voice. But I loved seeing this talented singer/songwriter win the title, the recording contract, and the fame. And I love the song he won with. Here it is:

Favorite TV show: You might think I am off my rocker, but my son Eric talked me into watching AMC’s The Walking Dead in 2012. “It’s really not about the zombies,” he told me when he suggested I watch it and I made a series of yucky faces. “It’s about the characters and the choices they have to make.” And hey, that’s story, folks. He was right. The setting for these characters is certainly beyond gruesome. I looked away a lot. But take away the gore, the sound effects, the chasing, the nightmarish setting, and the plot stands as the perfect framework for a study on what we value most and do we still value it when everything that made life beautiful seems to be gone? Not for the squeamish. Hope you still like me…

Favorite theater production: I saw some fabulous stagings this year. Anything produced by good friend Sean Murray at San Diego’s Cygnet is always great, and I can see Wicked every time it comes to San Diego and not get tired of it, but my favorite live stage production was A CHRISTMAS STORY on Broadway. I don’t even like the cult classic movie on which this musical is based. I always thought the TV movie kind of depressing. But the Broadway musical? It was completely fabulous, funny, and made me smile all over. I loved it. Perhaps the fact that I saw it in NYC has something to do with it, and it was a recent memory, too (obviously), but not as much as you might think. It was fab.

Favorite quote: Hard to pick just one; but this one inspired me when I read it this year, and it inspires me right now as I write it here for you:

“Now is no time to think of what you do not have. Think of what you can do with what there is.” – Ernest Hemingway

Good one, isn’t it?

How about you, sweet reader? Have any favorite things from 2012 to share? Let’s hear them . . .

Les Miz reimagined

I was one of those people who, when they heard Cameron Mackintosh was in on an upcoming film production of Les Miserables, began counting the days until its release. I had the life-changing experience of seeing the original cast perform this magically engineered musical in London in 1990. That experience left me instantly smitten with this version of Victor Hugo’s masterpiece. Once you’ve heard it, the musical score alone will haunt and delight you ’til the day you die. I’ve seen other stage productions and of course the sad unCameron-Mackintosh attempt to adapt to film a few years back and nothing has been able to hold a candle to that shining night on the West End twenty-plus years ago.

I was an original cast Les Miz devotee. Junkie. Purist. Fanatic.

As the days neared to this new film adaptation with the original score, I was nearly convinced I would soon have my London stage production in my back pocket, to view it as much as I wanted, because movies go to DVD a year or less after they debut in theaters. The trailers (this one is my favorite) practically had me singing its praises before I’d even seen it.

So when we settled into our theater seats last night I was breathless with anticipation.

I was not disappointed. But I must confess I was not transported. I loved it. But it was not magical. I didn’t want to compare every musical note, every set, every costume, every nuance with the London stage production but I did. Every stage moment that was most precious to me, and I knew when they were coming because I can sing the score in my sleep, I was on the edge of my seat waiting for it. There were many grand moments but several standout disappointments. If you want to know what a few of them are, keep reading. If you don’t, stop right now.

Hugh Jackman was masterful as Jean Valjean, easily my most favorite character in literature. And he can sing. I was amazed at his ability to carry the staggering weight of the music. But he didn’t outshine Colm Wilkinson who originated the London role. Not by a long shot. Jackman’s “Bring Him Home,” a lullaby-like prayer that Colm sings in his buttery beautiful falsetto, was an achingly lost opportunity. Jackman scraped and screeched those incredibly high notes with no hint of the sweet falsetto Wilkinson mesmerized me with. Take a listen if you want to see what I mean:

I felt the same tender rush of disappointment when Russell Crowe launched into Javert’s tortured moments before he throws himself over the bridge. In the stage production, there is no river of course, but the masters of live stage have you believing there is one with an echoing drop into a swirling make-believe Seine that is breathtakingly amazing. Not like the skull-smashing leap that Crowe takes. And no echoing “There is no way to go on . . . !” which seems to go on and on as Javert escapes from the prison of his hated life.

Anne Hathaway gets the prize for eclipsing the Fantine I saw in London and listen to on my well-worn CDs. Her “I Dreamed a Dream” had me and everyone else in the theater in tears. She was fully believable as a young mother desperate to save her child and living in a cruel world that has nothing but sorrow to offer her. I was also undone by Eddie Redmayne’s “Empty Chairs at Empty Tables,” too. So well done.

And I have to say that the live takes, which allowed the actors to fully immerse themselves in the moment, was genius. The stage productions repeat themselves every day for weeks and months on end. I doubt many stage actors can pour the amount of emotion into their roles day after day after day like Jackman, Hathaway, and the others did. The pathos of the film version is raw and intense. Amazingly so.

There were other little things that left me somewhat wanting. The last scene with Jean Valjean – which contains the line that is my most favorite in all the world, “To love another person is to see the face of God,” – could’ve transcended the stage production easily since the film version had no limitations. But it seemed underdone. And the the very last scene was just kind of silly for me. Fantine singing at the Barricade? No.

If you’ve seen the West End or the Broadway production of Les Miz, I’d love to hear what you think. Is it just me? I loved the movie. But I didn’t LOVE!! it.

Thoughts anyone??

Sweet Nativity

So since the world is still here and us with it, we can still look forward to celebrating the birth of the Savior four days from now, which is a pretty great way to party for not being swept away in an apocalypse. For your viewing pleasure, I’d like to present you with this adorable video. It will make you smile, laugh, and be joyful at a time when joy is so needed…

What you don’t know about lace

I am an unabashed devotee of any historical event that reads like a story and so when I heard a writer whose work I already admire had a new book about forbidden lace during the reign of King Louis XIII, I knew I had to snatch it up.

This was news to me, that there was a time in French history when lace was contraband. Louis XIII actually banned it; that frilly, frothy white stuff that spills from hems and cuffs and collars. To possess it was a criminal act and to smuggle it into the country was as treasonous as a death threat to His Royal Unlaceness himself. But the French aristocracy wanted what they were forbidden to have and whenever someone with means wants something they can’t readily have, there is always someone who will get it for them for a price, regardless of the risk or who they have to abuse and use to get it.

Writing under the pseudonym Iris Anthony, the author of The Ruins of Lace, is someone whose work in historical fiction is already stellar. This one is probably her best yet but it’s hailed as her debut because as Iris Anthony, that’s what it is. Here’s the Publishers Weekly review:

“In this stunning debut from the pseudonymous Anthony, King Louis XIII’s ban on lace gives rise to a black market that weaves together the lives of four women in 17th-century France and Flanders. Katharina Martens is a Flemish lace maker who considers it her God-given duty to craft the “exquisite, beautiful” fabric, never mind that her work—often conducted without firelight or lanterns, in order to keep the lace clean of soot and ash—has left her hunched and nearly blind. As the end of her lace-making career draws nigh, to be followed by the sordid existence of former craftswomen relegated to a life of “doing… vile things,” her sister, Heilwich, struggles to save enough money to buy Katharina’s freedom from the abbey where she works. Meanwhile in France, Lissette Lefort and her cousin Alexandre must procure a length of forbidden lace to pay off the conniving count of Montreau, who threatens to reveal Lissette’s father’s role in an attempted assassination of the king. As beautifully fashioned as the sought-after lace, this story is sure to impress.”

Told in multiple view points, including that of a dog who is a smuggler’s runner, it is obvious the story is really about people – and a dog – and what they value most in life and what they are willing to do or suffer to have it. There is a great interview with Iris Anthony on the book’s website and a video chat about where the idea came from and how she came to choose the story’s narrators.

I was especially intrigued by the notion that what makes lace beautiful is the part that isn’t there – the air between the threads that creates the pattern – that is the part that gives lace its artistry; the invisible part. That is remarkable to me and worthy of pondering.

It’s a great read folks, not a cozy feel-good bedtime book, but a thought-provoking page-turner that you won’t want to put down.

The Secret Keeper

Step into any big bookstore or search the online shelves of Amazon and it’s pretty obvious the literary world is full of people who can say they are novelists. An artist produces art, a pianist produces music and a novelist produces a story. But I dare to say that some people are truly storytellers and their novels are more than just pages of escape into some writer’s fictive world. A storyteller rises above the title of novelist. Their skill, which joins them to the fraternity of novelists, doesn’t just keep them there. It starts there and then rises up to something more. That’s how I feel about Australian writer Kate Morton. She’s written four novels, all of which I have devoured like a starving waif, and her newest, The Secret Keeper, just might be her best yet. I will have to read The Forgotten Garden again – my previous fave – and get back to you on that.

Morton is a master at the craft. She’s witty, smart, and knows how to indulge in just the right amount of details to hold us captive. She swings through multiple decades with ease, leaving you a little breathless from the travel, but wanting to show everyone your passport so all the world can see where she’s taken you. The Secret Keeper is perfectly titled and the ending, which I cannot share here, will have you wanting to applaud the notion that some secrets are meant to be kept.

In a nutshell, the story revolves around Laurel and her ailing mother, Dorothy, two British women with reasons for safe-keeping secrets from the past. From the GoodReads page: 1961 England. Laurel Nicolson is sixteen years old, dreaming alone in her childhood tree house during a family celebration at their home, Green Acres Farm. She spies a stranger coming up the long road to the farm and then observes her mother, Dorothy, speaking to him. And then she witnesses a crime.

Fifty years later, Laurel is a successful and well-regarded actress, living in London. She returns to Green Acres for Dorothy’s ninetieth birthday and finds herself overwhelmed by memories and questions she has not thought about for decades. She decides to find out the truth about the events of that summer day and lay to rest her own feelings of guilt. One photograph, of her mother and a woman Laurel has never met, called Vivien, is her first clue.

The Secret Keeper explores longings and dreams, the lengths some people go to fulfill them, and the strange consequences they sometimes have. It is a story of lovers, friends, dreamers and schemers, play-acting and deception told against a backdrop of events that changed the world.

I had the opportunity to meet Kate at my favorite local haunt, Warwicks Bookstore, a few weeks ago and I am a firm believer hers is a rare talent worth celebrating. To hear her talk about the crafting of this story, to clutch my signed copy and take it home with me and then to read it and become lost in it, was a gift.

For those who want a quick, mindless read, save this one for when you have the mental time to be transported. You can’t be half there while reading this one because you are busy moving about from decade to decade. The details are what make the ending so delicious you wish you could have seconds, and the big reveal at the end is gold and it’s sadly apropos that you can only experience it once.

May I be so boldly punny to say The Secret Keeper is not a secret to be kept. I am telling all I know to get lost in it.

Archive: December 31, 2012

My favorite things 2012

Les Miz reimagined

Sweet Nativity

What you don’t know about lace

The Secret Keeper