Regrets, I've Had a Few... But Would You Change Anything?

A couple of weeks ago I read two books that had just come out, by authors I’d read before and loved. The first was Seconds by Bryan Lee O’Malley, he of Scott Pilgrim graphic novel series fame. Scott Pilgrim is a six-book series about a guy living in Toronto in his early 20s, battling the ex-boyfriends of the girl he wants to be with. Seconds is a one-off standalone novel about Katie, a girl living in what seems more like Southwestern Ontario (where O’Malley is originally from, and where I now live after moving here from Toronto a couple of years ago), in her 30s, at a certain point in her life where she’s questioning the decisions she’s made to get to this point. As anyone who is 40 or older can tell you, life seems to follow a certain expected trajectory: childhood, then choosing your future as a teenager, when you are insane and hormonal and should NEVER be making life decisions, but there it is. Your 20s are for getting a start in that life and shooting off in the direction you chose as the crazy teenager, your 30s are for moving up in whatever life direction you’ve chosen, and your 40s are to start sitting back and enjoying the ride, because you’ve made it to the top.

In theory.

But see, often (not always, I should add), somewhere in your mid-30s, you realize maybe you’re not quite there. And a quick check into the future tells you you’re not going to get there. You’ve started changing. You’ve met new people, you’ve discovered new things, and suddenly that life trajectory that seemed perfect in your stupid teenage years isn’t so rosy anymore.

I didn’t have a single regret at age 34. At 40, I have several.

And that’s where Katie’s finding herself. She opened a fabulous restaurant with friends called Seconds, and it’s become THE hot spot in town. But she was the chef, not the owner, and over time many of the friends bailed, and the owner became distant, and she’s decided to set out on her own and buy a building downtown, near a bridge, and fix it up so it’ll become her new restaurant, called Katie’s. But the building is more decrepit than she thought it would be. And she can’t seem to stay away from hanging around Seconds. And then there’s that guy she was madly in love with whom she let go a few years ago, who keeps coming to the restaurant and making her regret her choices.

And then one night, an accident happens at the restaurant that she causes.

When she returns to her room, there’s a blonde girl sitting atop her dresser, hunched over like a little pixie, and gives her the opportunity to eat one mushroom, write down the one thing she wants to change on a pad of paper, and in the morning, poof... the accident no longer happened, and things are set aright. You can only do this once, she’s told. But... what if she did it just one more time?

Or, maybe... a few more times?

Seconds is a fabulous book, and I can’t recommend it highly enough. I adored the Scott Pilgrim series, but Seconds is more mature, and the illustrations are gorgeous.

The other book I picked up was Landline by Rainbow Rowell. I first discovered Rowell’s writing last year when I read Fangirl, and thought it was an excellent examination of fandom and the way fans feel around non-fans, people who think we spend too much time on the internet or blogging, and the argument about fan fic vs. original fiction. Rowell, who is one of the best fan fic writers on the interwebs, was clearly writing from experience, and I instantly felt a connection to her main character. And then I picked up Eleanor & Park, which is one of the most extraordinary YA novels I’ve ever read. Yes, I did my due diligence as a YA reader and also read The Fault in Our Stars right after, and yet E&P resonated with me so much more. It was beautiful, and real, and set around the very time I was experiencing my own first love, and we connected the same way Eleanor and Park do: through Smiths records.

Landline is the story of a woman who writes for television, and who gets her big break for the pilot she’s been shopping around with her colleague for years. The catch: she has to write the first four episodes before Christmas, which is 10 days away, and therefore she can’t go away to Omaha to see her husband’s family for Christmas. Her husband, tired of her putting work before family again, picks up the girls and takes them anyway, leaving her behind, and he refuses to answer his cellphone for days. Alone, confused, upset, regretful, and not sure what to do, she goes to her parents’ house, the same one she grew up in, and one night pulls out the old yellow rotary phone to call her husband. And... he picks up. But his father picks up first. The father who died a couple of years ago.

When she realizes this rotary phone is somehow a conduit into the past, she’s suddenly faced with a possibility: can she have discussions in the present that will affect her decisions in the past? Could she say or do something right now that will alter what happened before, and change the trajectory of her life?

I loved the book, and thought Rowell hit the emotions right on the head on every page. And I was equally surprised that the theme was so close to O’Malley’s book. Here I was picking up books from two authors I really enjoy reading, and both of them are tackling the same issue: getting to a certain point in our lives and questioning everything that came before. And, through magic realism, allowing their characters to explore the possibility of changing those decisions to see what might happen to them.

Like every reader will no doubt do, I closed both of these books wondering what I would change. I’m someone who tends to think things through five steps ahead of the present one (which is why I don’t take many risks, probably), and so every time I thought of something I might like to change, I traced the consequences of that action, and there was always a price to pay.

I wish I’d kept up this blog more, instead of letting people leave in a mass exodus because I was so exhausted when Lost ended that I just couldn’t keep up the pace after the final book came out. But if I’d kept focused on the blog, I wouldn’t have time to do the freelance work I do now, or read as many books, or spend time with my kids. I still write on here occasionally, and get a total of four comments (one of which is inevitably pointing out something big I missed in my rushed review), and that’s my new normal.

There’s the book writing opportunity I was offered four years ago that I turned down because I’d just finished the final Finding Lost book, and it turned out to be a much bigger opportunity than I would have guessed, which has devastated me. After years of working as a professional writer, this would have been the big time. And I blew it. But again, I would have spent the last four years travelling and being away from my family, and with so much upheaval here, I probably couldn’t have done that. I can deal with a missed opportunity, as hard as it’s been, but I couldn’t possibly deal with anything shaking up the strong family I have. Perhaps another opportunity will come, one that will allow me to stay put and still write. 

So much has happened to me in the past four years — both very good and very bad — and when it’s all weighed, I’m a very happy person. I’m the first to say motherhood is the best thing that’s ever happened to me, but I also see so many people around me without kids who are achieving great things because they don’t have to worry about anyone else (and my husband has definitely had an upward trajectory while I've kept the home fires burning), and I gave up my job and city to move to a smaller town so I could spend more time with my kids. I love them with all my heart, and think they’ll always be more important than any blog or book or job will ever be.

Sure, I still have that Marlon Brando moment like everyone else does at some point in their lives. I could have been somebody.

And then I became a mom. And suddenly I was no longer a somebody, and realized I never really would be. But, I’d be the most important somebody to two people. At least, for the next few years I will be. And I realize there are people out there at the top of their game, beloved and/or famous and/or extremely successful, and they have a dresser full of regrets, too. Just like in that BtVS episode "Earshot," everyone has their own problems and regrets, and no one's is more important than another's. 

But if I had a yellow rotary phone, or a pixie sitting atop a dresser with a magic mushroom... who knows what I would wish to change in my past? Would I ever take that risk? Do I really want to, or, when all is said and done, is this the happiest and best outcome there could possibly be?

Would you do it? 

My Name Is Nikki Stafford . . . And I Am an Addict

My friends have always ribbed me as the girl with no vices.

I don't drink. I don't drink coffee. I've never even taken a puff from a cigarette. I've never done recreational drugs of any kind. (Seriously, I'm that boring kid at parties.) I don't particularly like ice cream or desserts. I love chocolate, but rarely crave it. I've never bought expensive shoes, and typically find one pair — whether it's a pair of Docs or Clark's — and wear them until the soles are worn off. I don't buy expensive clothes, and prefer jeans and t-shirts. I don't buy expensive handbags: I own a single Coach purse that I bought on sale, and have had it for four years and will no doubt wear it for another 10. Until I got that, I'd used the same $10 Old Navy purse for over a decade. I don't wear jewelry, though occasionally I'll find something really unique and I'll buy it, but it's never more than $50. And we're talking one of those a year. Maybe. I'm constantly joking with my husband that he doesn't know how good he's got it: those credit card bills of ours contain zero extravagances for me.

Well, except for one itty bitty thing...

Back in December, I announced here that I would stop buying books for one year. I acknowledged I had a problem, and I was going to stop buying them by the dozen (no really, I buy armloads at a time) and actually read the hundreds — hundreds — of unread books that surround me on my dozen bookshelves. My house is a library, where there isn't a single room without a book in it. My kitchen is full of cookbooks (which I actually read like novels), as is the pantry in my dining room. My side table beside the bed has so many stacks of books on it that, as I joked to a friend last week, I knock a book off every morning when I try to hit the alarm's Snooze button — because of spending five years taking English lit at university, I got so used to reading several books at once that I still do it. My kids have several bookshelves in each of their rooms. The bathrooms are filled with magazines. The family room and living room have shelves of books. Even the guest bedroom, music room, exercise room and storage spaces have books shoved into every free space. And my office has so many books that every shelf is filled, more books are shoved into the free space on top of the books, the tops of the shelves have books, they're stacked on the floors, and that one shelf where I have put all my Buffy figures? I now eye it daily and think, "OK, Spike, you've fallen off that stand so many times that I should just sweep all of you guys into a bag and use this shelf for BOOKS." But I haven't gotten there yet.

I've read a ton of them. Every shelf probably has 10-15 books on it that I've actually read. But that leaves another 10-15 that I haven't. And that is A LOT.

And so, I decided I wouldn't buy books this year. Nor would I take any out of the library. I was going to make a concerted effort to read what was on my shelves, and see if I could match the 55 books I managed to read last year.

Then I started making exceptions, and that's where addictions always fall apart. I belong to two book clubs (sometimes three), and I said whatever books they chose, I'd buy/get from the library so I could keep up. But that's 24 books right there. Already I'd put a major dent in my Year of Reading From My Own Shelves.

Then, on December 31, I placed an order for 10 books, books that I'd wanted for some time, but now that I'd put a one-year moratorium on my book-buying, I needed them NOW. So after deciding I needed to read some of the hundreds of books on my shelf, I was already up to 10 new ones, and 24 other ones that I'd have to buy/borrow. That left only about 20 that I could read from my own collection. Not even one shelf's worth.

And then, in February, my children's school had a book sale to raise money for their library. The kids begged me to take them there after school, and they looked over the books and I told them they could take what they wanted (I've never put a limit on books). $1 for a paperback, $2 for a hardcover. And that's when I saw JK Rowling's Cuckoo's Calling on a table in mint condition. Wait, $2 for a brand new book? That's amazing! Without even thinking, I put it into the stack of books the kids had chosen and went up to pay for them. It's only as I handed over my money my heart suddenly jolted and I realized, Wait... I can't buy any books!! Oh no... oh no... So I decided I will give this one to my husband. Yes, that's the ticket! I can still give books as gifts, yes? And if it just happens to still be on my shelf next year, why then yes, I can read it. Whew. Crisis averted.

Then my birthday happened. And someone gave me an Indigo bookstore gift card. They were barely out the door before I raced to my computer, heart pounding with excitement, and began filling up my cart. Ooh... I went over the amount. Ah well, it's my birthday, right? I felt my heart beat faster, and my stomach was doing flip-flops of excitement. Two days later the books arrived and I grabbed them excitedly from the mailbox, ripped open the box and smelled them. They smelled WONDERFUL. (This is why I've yet to switch to a Kobo...)

Two weeks later two of the books that I'd worked on as an editor arrived in the mail: Wanna Cook, the Breaking Bad companion guide by Dale Guffey and Ensley Guffey, and Elephant in the Sky by Heather Clark (both astoundingly good books, by the way!) Just seeing a book-shaped package gave me shivers of excitement, and I could barely contain myself as I ripped the package open and handled them for the first time. Shortly after, one of my book clubs had their monthly meeting in a bookstore. I saw books that I wanted so desperately — OMG, so-and-so has a new book?! — but knew I couldn't have them.

And on the way home, I realized no, I can't do this. In fact, I'd more than proven already that I hadn't done this at all. I'd failed miserably. My moratorium on books had lasted all of six weeks before I'd fallen off the wagon, and then when someone gave me a gift I was like an addict.

And that was when I realized something even bigger: I'd always joked that I was addicted to buying books, but I really was. The way alcohol or caffeine or drugs give people a high that they can't get from anything else, that's how I feel when I buy books. There's so much possibility between those covers, so many worlds and new people to meet and adventures to be had. If I choose my books wisely, I'll be introduced to new ways of thinking and new ideas that I'll be mulling over for weeks, months, even years.

So I gave up. I decided no, I'm not wasting a year of my life not doing one of the things I love most. I have friends who are in serious credit card debts over shoe purchases or expensive clothes-buying binges, and that's not me. Books are relatively cheap, and they are WONDERFUL.

I love reading books. But I discovered that I might enjoy discovering and buying them even more. I literally have physical changes when I'm in the midst of purchasing a book: my heart really does race, my stomach gets fluttery. I have a buzz and feel overwhelmed with joy. The smell and look of a bookstore makes me so happy. A couple of weeks ago I was in an independent bookstore in San Francisco with my best friend Sue (who also tried the year-long moratorium and failed equally spectacularly) and it made me realize how much I love and long for independent bookstores. I'll go to a Chapters/Indigo long before I'll buy something on Amazon, but the fluorescent lights and overwhelming smell of Starbucks and warehouse-like look of the place is no match for the soft lighting, smell of old paper, occasional creaky floors, and hand-selling that happens at an independent. The one I found in SF was called Booksmith's, in the heart of the Haight-Ashbury district, and I spent SO much time in there reading the dozens and dozens of cards they'd carefully placed under all their favourite books (not just New Releases but everywhere throughout the store) and was madly writing down titles of books that intrigued me, knowing I couldn't carry every single one of them back to the hotel. I went up to the owner of the store and told him how much I adored his place, and he seemed genuinely thrilled to hear it. I chose a single book by Maud Casey as my prize (based on the card that recommended it), and felt that rise in pulse as I handed over my money for it. After I got home I looked up the store online and discovered there was a whole wealth of bookstores in SF, and maybe I need to make a trip there where I do nothing but shop in bookstores the entire time. Hm... I might actually go into cardiac arrest if I did that...

Many addictions are bad. Whether it's hard drugs or alcohol that have destroyed lives and families, or shopping sprees or gambling addictions that have crippled people financially, or eating disorders that threaten the lives of their victims, we tend to look at the nature of addiction as something uncontrollable and evil, filled with hurt and pain. I've had many friends fight addictions for years, and while not all of them were able to overcome their demons, I'm happy to say many of them have recovered and are leading extraordinary lives now.

I saw my book-buying addiction (and the physical changes, sense of compulsion, and overwhelming high that accompanies it would suggest it is, in fact, an addiction) as something that I needed to curb, that I needed to stop so I could focus on the glorious worlds that currently exist on my bookshelves. But I've come to terms with the fact that I'll never live long enough to read many of the books I currently own, and that I can't stop buying new ones. I can let go, though — when we moved the last time, I probably got rid of 100 books (which I offered up to friends first) — so it's not like a person would come to my house and be tripping over books wherever they go. There is an order to my chaos.

But I love bringing new books home. I love discovering the worlds that exist within them, even if I never actually get to live in those worlds. And when I'm in the midst of a good book — like the one I'm reading right now, actually — it's hard to concentrate on doing much else because all I want to do is read that book. I've always been that person watching prison dramas and thinking, "You know, if I was put into solitary confinement for a year, imagine all the reading I could get done!!!"

So I don't need to curb my addiction. I don't need to curb that thrill of buying new books. I don't need to stop discovering new books. I've never gotten a credit card bill with a book-buying charge on it that was so high my husband's eyes bugged out of his head. He spent more money fixing and rewiring his guitars last month than I've spent all year on books. In fact, the one good thing that came out of the moratorium was that I gained a whole new appreciation for how much I love buying and reading books. I always said I loved it, but now I truly know that it's an essential part of who I am.

In fact, for the first time, yesterday I popped into Chapters online and ordered Rainbow Rowell's new book on the day of its release. (And then had that very 21st-century impatient feeling of, "Geez, I wish they could ship it to arrive RIGHT NOW" about two minutes later...)

And it was so damned exciting.

Last-Minute Christmas Ideas, Part 2

In the "yes, these are books I worked on and love to bits so I want you to love them, too" category, I'm going to talk about books I've worked on as an editor. I've often mentioned that I work at ECW Press as an editor, which is my day job when I'm not writing books (which, considering I haven't written one since 2010, means I MUST be doing something else!). What sort of wonders do I get to work on? Well, let me show you! I work on both fiction and non-fiction. These are some of the fiction books I had the pleasure of working on in 2012.

I've already talked about this book at length, but I'll mention it again. Husk is the Great Canadian Zombie Novel by Canadian Corey Redekop. It's a book told from the point of view of the zombie, and it's laugh-out-loud hilarious and deeply poignant and sad at other points. While being completely bizarro in the middle. It's one of my favourite books of the year, and I can't recommend it enough. If you love the horror and humanity of The Walking Dead, but the bizarre humour of Community or Parks and Recreation, then this is the book for you. Order here in Canada, or here in the U.S.

Last year I had the pleasure of publishing Allison Baggio's debut novel, Girl in Shades (set in 1985, about a pre-teen obsessed with Corey Hart who deals with some really serious issues in her home life) and this year she immediately followed that beautiful book with a follow-up collection of short stories, In the Body. I love working with Allison, and these stories run the gamut from strange to heartbreaking to funny, all about our personal hang-ups with our body, both physical and mental. Some of these stories will punch you in the gut, others will leave you satisfied, and all are hopeful. In a world where people tend to lean to novels over short stories, I urge you to try out this collection. You won't be disappointed. You can order here in Canada, or here in the U.S.

A year ago, as I was threatening to be buried under a looming pile of manuscripts, someone brought one of them to my attention and I opened it and began reading. About 60 pages in, I had to leave the office because I was about to burst into tears. "How is she going to continue the story after THAT?!" I thought to myself. But I composed myself (I wasn't the only editor who thought we needed a designated crying room in that office!) and came back and finished it. I invited the author in, loved her immediately, and signed up the book. This could best be described as "women's fiction" (I still haven't figured out if that term is derogatory, but it's the label slapped on it) about a woman named Nicky who at first has problems conceiving a child, then miraculously does so, only for tragedy to strike. When she and her husband deal with the consequences in very different ways, Nicky must learn to find new meaning in her life by travelling far away — to Kenya — where she discovers a world that makes her own look almost insignificant. A raw, powerful debut novel, author Heather A. Clark is a true talent (and a marketing powerhouse!) who has driven this book to the bestseller lists and continues to promote it. I've actually attended two different book clubs who read this book (one of those was with Heather) and it was so much fun listening to the women react to this book. It's a beautiful book, and that scene still makes me cry, seven readthroughs later. Order it here in the US, and here in Canada.

And last, another of my absolute favourite reads in the past five years is Christopher Meades' The Last Hiccup. His previous book, his debut novel The Three Fates of Henrik Nordmark, had me laughing right from the opening chapter, and The Last Hiccup is even better. Set in 1930s Russia, this is the story of Vlad, who, on his eighth birthday, leans forward to blow out his candles, and begins hiccuping. And... doesn't stop. We follow the weird and wonderful life of this strange boy whose hiccups at first plague him, and then, as one by one the people around him abandon him because of his affliction, become his only true friends. I love this book. The reviews have been phenomenal, and I hope you check it out. (Oh, and Chris? I Googled the book and a pic of Ryan Gosling popped up. So... I'm going to need you to start every email from this point on with "Hey girl...".) ;) Order the book here in the U.S. and here in Canada.

And those are my fiction books for the year!

Husk: The Great Canadian Zombie Novel

I have been privileged to work at ECW Press for the last 15 years. Not just because it's the leading publisher of books on television, music, and wrestling, but because have published not one, but TWO of the great Canadian zombie novels. The first was in 1998, Tony Burgess's Pontypool Changes Everything. In 2009, that novel became a zombie film by Bruce McDonald simply titled Pontypool. (And if you haven't yet seen it, DO SO.) In an age of this movie, along with The Walking Dead, the zombie genre has moved up from being silly horror slapstick to a serious, thinking fan's genre.

Last year I acquired our second zombie book, and the second time I'd worked with its author, Corey Redekop (the first was for his brilliant debut novel, Shelf Monkey). The book is called Husk, and if you buy only one zombie novel this year, make it this one. It is horrifying, laugh-out-loud hilarious, and heartbreaking.

It is the story of Sheldon Funk — Shelley to his friends — a guy who dies on a bus and who wakes up on an autopsy table, just as his organs are being removed. We have the usual animation scene — the walker sits up, moans, grabs closest attendant, breaks his arm, shambles out — but this time it's told entirely from Sheldon's point of view. He's shocked that he's lying on the table. He doesn't understand why it's so cold, why his brain just feels like it's waking up, why this man is holding a bone saw and standing a little too close to him. He's terrified and confused, and grabs the man's arm intending just to get him to back off, and doesn't realize his own strength. The sound of his new, horrifying voice rising from the depths of what's left of his stomach scares even him, and he doesn't know what to do.

Of course, the scene is also played for laughs, and there are many reaction moments in this book that will have you in stitches (no pun intended).

Sheldon is an actor, and at first he wants to cover up his new undeadness, and decides to play it cool and try to pass as human and alive at his auditions. That doesn't go well. There's this whole... hunger thing. And goddammit if his voice isn't the worst thing anyone's ever heard. In one scene he tries to control it in the most mind-over-matter way possible:

I tried again, smiling around the word this time, picturing kittens frolicking in a meadow with baby goats, dolphins performing back flips in a tranquil bay.

Sssssshhhhh-eeeeelllll-eeeeeee...

The sound of orphans being strangled in their cribs soaked into the walls. The goats head-butted the kittens into red mush, and the dolphins lined up to be mercury-laden breakfast treats for Chinese children.

What follows is one man's quest to find out what this new life — if that's what you can call it — is really all about. If he can just stop the smell from emanating from every inch of his body, or his voice from making people want to throw up, and if he can convince people he's really human. And that's just the first third of the book. Let's just say when they find out who he really is, the world goes apeshit, and Redekop paints a fairly plausible picture of what would happen if a member of the undead ever "came out."

The book is hilarious and Redekop never spares the gore (he seems to revel in pushing us to our limits of what we can stomach), and, as mentioned, is very poignant. For, as Sheldon lumbers out of the autopsy room at the very beginning, he can't leave his heart behind, and eventually begins stapling it to his spine to try to keep it inside of him. The rest of him is just organic, but this heart means something to him, and he doesn't want to lose it.

And if that doesn't make him human, I don't know what does.

Husk by Corey Redekop, ECW Press, ISBN 978-1-77041-032-9, $18.95 CDN/U.S.

Nik Recommends Geektastic!

Hello everyone! The Toronto Public Library has been hosting a series of incentives all month long to "Keep Toronto Reading." A dear friend of mine and work colleague hosts an AMAZING book blog called the "Keepin' It Real Book Club" and she agreed to help out the initiative by hosting on her site a series of book reviews in under 3 minutes, where people who work in publishing or with books in some way recommend a book they think everyone should read.

I asked her a couple of weeks ago if she'd be open to me recommending Y: The Last Man. After hearing me talk about it endlessly in the office, she had read it, and excitedly said yes yes! So I kept meaning to do it, and kept forgetting with the mountain of other stuff I'm supposed to be working on (in theory). Last night it suddenly occurred to me I hadn't done it yet, and today was the last day. So I grabbed the BKV series, ready to hold up the volumes and talk excitedly about it... only to find that there was already a review of it on the site, and they were saying pretty much EXACTLY what I was going to say.

So, I switched over to a book that I found in Shakespeare and Co. in NY last October, started reading on the plane ride home, and LOVED and I have been meaning to post on it for months here. It's called Geektastic and it's a collection of YA short fiction about the world of geek- and nerddom, edited by Holly Black Cecil Castellucci. It's SO funny, and I loved it.

So head on over here and you can see me recommending this book to you!! (Once again I apologize for the super-quiet microphone. ARGH. I don't know what's wrong. I think I have to start shouting in these things. I'm going to do a video podcast for the finale of Lost, but since it'll probably be me screaming and crying and yelling, I don't think the volume will be much of a problem in that case...) ;) And also, be sure to scroll back and watch many of the other recommendations, many by people I know or have worked/am working with at the moment. (Evan Munday's is probably my fave of the bunch. The video is brill.) Be sure to leave comments to show you were over there! :) And definitely check out the book. It's SO much fun, and right up our alley.

And while I have your attention, I hope you can go over to my publisher's new TV blog, where they're highlighting all of the TV companion guides and authors of those companion guides on a regular basis. Since this fall we will be bringing out guides to Lost, Glee, Vampire Diaries, True Blood, Curb Your Enthusiasm, and House, it seemed like a good time to finally have a site to showcase it all! So check it out when you can. It's called Books on TV (I had suggested "Books to Watch" which I still think is pretty damn catchy, but they went with the other title instead). It's a fun site that's updated regularly, and again it's done by the brilliant woman who does the Keepin' It Real Club!

The Lord of the Films

Today is the first day of the Toronto International Film Festival, an event that always makes me nostalgic for days gone by. Back before I had children, my best friend and I would take the week off and see 30 films at the TIFF, and every night we'd drag ourselves home after seeing as many as five films in one day, and we'd sit down and type up these HUGE emails -- that were essentially blog posts before people had blogs -- and email them out to all our friends. We talked about things we'd overheard people say in line, we'd bitch about the routines and the lineups and the stupid people who'd done stupid things to us during the day, and eventually we'd get around to reviewing the films. Friends would email us back the next day to tell us how much fun they were having reading through it, and how they enjoyed the overheard bits more than the reviews themselves, so we started eavesdropping more and focusing on those parts. By the end of the week, we'd have a 25,000-word document containing all our emails from the week (yes, that number is correct) and we'd print it up to save. Ah... memories.

The TIFF marks the beginning of the fall movie season for me, and what better time to post about another guidebook I think y'all should be buying for yourselves and for other people at Christmas. The book is Lord of the Films: The Unofficial Guide to Tolkien's Middle-earth on the Big Screen, and it's written by J.W. Braun. If you've been involved in the Lost rewatch at all, you'll know him as JW, a frequent poster there. Again, full disclosure: I was the editor on this book. I didn't acquire it for the press (I was on maternity leave when it came in) but the moment I sat down and read through the raw manuscript for the first time, I was in love with it instantly.

Lord of the Films is a guide to all of the movie adaptations of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings Trilogy, with the main focus, of course, being on the Peter Jackson films. There are sidebars and background stories on the animated versions (and what worked and what didn't in those) but for the most part, this book is a behind-the-scenes and fan-filled look at the Peter Jackson adaptations and how the Tolkien fans responded.

Braun breaks down each film into its major parts (mainly how the film is broken down on the DVD scene menus), and then for each of those parts he includes four different subsections: what some fans said out loud in theatres during the films (these range from the bizarre to the laugh-out-loud hilarious, like when one fan, shortly after the first film begins, shouts out, "Hey, you missed page 33!"); little details and important symbolism you may not have noticed in the films; nitpicks and bloopers; and behind-the-scenes stories of what was happening during filming and production. It's a brilliant book, and fans will love it. Complete with Q&As of some of the crew members who were in NZ for the three years it took to complete the trilogy, sidebars of some of the fandom-generated activities or merchandising or other fun bits, awesome photos of the landscapes, actors, and other fun LOTR-related Kodak moments, and early information about Jackson's much-anticipated Hobbit films, this book is the perfect compendium for fans.

This is one of those cases where the back-cover bumpf is actually true -- after reading this book, you'll go back and watch the trilogy again with a fresh pair of eyes, as if it's the first time you're watching it. The book is available now, and you can buy it here. Get your copy and then come back here and tell us what you thought. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did!

Kings of Madison Avenue

It is my pleasure to devote today's blog post to one of my favourite books I've read in the past year. And, for the purpose of full disclosure, I'll admit up front that I was the acquiring and developing editor on this book. But that doesn't mean I can't sing its praises to the highest. (After all, the royalties go to the author, not me.)

Kings of Madison Avenue is the unofficial companion guide to Mad Men. If you're a fan of the show, you will love this book. With chapters on the civil rights movement, the second wave of feminism, advertising campaigns of the early 1960s, key figures of the era, and many more, author Jesse McLean has gone beyond the episodes to give the reader the context of the 1960s. He also includes chapters on books and movies that are referenced in the episodes, such as The Apartment or Meditations in an Emergency.

I still remember getting this book proposal... Jesse wrote it up like he was pitching me an ad campaign, and the cover letter was complete with a ring where he'd set his whisky glass and the corner was burnt off, where he'd accidentally dropped his cigarette ash. It made me laugh out loud, and he's been making me laugh ever since. The writing in this book is sharp and witty, and I loved working on it. Throughout my career as an editor, there are different types of authors I've worked with -- ones who I assume I'll never work with again, either because they were very difficult throughout the process or for some reason they just decided they didn't like me (thankfully this situation is rare), writers who have a lot of talent in the one subject area they've written about, and who I enjoy working with but I'm not sure I see another book in them, and those who I love working with from the get-go and can't wait to work with again. Jesse happily falls into that third category. From the moment he walked into the office and we started up an hour-long conversation about television, I knew we'd get along just fine.

This book should be in stores very soon, if it isn't already, and you can order it on Amazon here. Or, if you live in the Toronto area, please come on out to the launch this Wednesday, August 12, at McNally Robinson, located at the Shops at Don Mills, at the corner of Lawrence and Don Mills Road. The launch is at 7pm, and Jesse will be on hand to sign books, and will be interviewed on stage by Globe and Mail TV columnist John Doyle. Unfortunately, I won't be able to make it (and I'm shattered about this) because I'm on vacation. I told our publicists that there was one week in the entire summer that I couldn't make it... and then the bookstore insisted on booking it in that week. Wah. The reason? Mad Men starts up again next Sunday. (WHEEEE!!!)

Please check out this book. You will NOT be disappointed. And check out the author's entertaining blog, Kings of Madison Avenue, here.

Happy Bloomsday!

Yes yes, it's June 16th, which means, it's Bloomsday! James Joyce's monumental novel (in more ways than one, cough), Ulysses, is entirely set on June 16, 1904, and for the past 15 years or so, I always had this image of me sitting down and reading the entire book, beginning to end, on one Bloomsday. Yeah, right. Fat chance that.

And then Damon Lindelof had to go and mention it would be in an upcoming episode of Lost. And then Ben Linus is reading it in "316." And so I started reading it, too. (And despite what people might have thought when I recently said my captivity had ended, that was just the 10-day, 15-hour-a-day marathon I took in the middle of the writing process; I'm still working on it every night and weekend with a hand-in date of July 6....) And here it is, Bloomsday, and I'm STILL reading it. And writing about it. And thinking my chapter on it is getting CRAZY long and my editor is going to have to slash it to bits. And I'm wondering what Joyce was smoking. And marvelling at his genius. And wondering what the hell is going on in several passages. And actually figuring other passages out and chuckling at a couple of jokes. (Throwaway? HAHA!)

But as for whether I'm truly enjoying it... er... oh hey, look, something shiny! Gotta run!

Canada Reads!

As I posted a few months ago, CBC's Canada Reads has all of Canada... er... reading. Not that we don't already. I read a poll recently that said that Canadians rank first in the world when it comes to intelligence and reading.

*cough*

Ok, just because that poll was scribbled into one of my own notebooks in MY handwriting doesn't mean it couldn't be true!

Anyway, yesterday kicked off the week-long Canada Reads debates, where five champions will be defending the books they've chosen that they believe all of Canada should be reading. I'm completely biased in this one: I'm rootin' for Fruit. Written by Brian Francis, this book was acquired and edited by me way back in 2004, and it's still one of my favourite books I've read. It's warm, hilarious, sweet, and sad, and pretty much sums up those awkward years of pre-adolescence.

Yesterday the champions introduced their books, and started taking potshots at the others. Host Jian Ghomeshi asked everyone to choose the book they liked the least, and the overwhelming choice was Sarah Slean's choice, Mercy Among the Children by David Adams Richards. Sarah Slean, on the other hand, attacked Fruit. (Ah!! There goes my love of her...) The good thing was, it caused the other panellists to actually defend Fruit for being so funny and heartwarming. Then Nicholas Campbell, defending The Outlander by Gil Adamson (my runner-up for fave book... not just because Gil is the editor of my Finding Lost books!) said that he loved Fruit, but couldn't recommend it to "certain" friends who may have prejudices. That caused Avi Lewis, defending The Book of Negroes, to say, "Oh, so you're voting against Fruit because your homophobe friends won't like it?" AWESOME.

Jen Sook-Fong Lee is an amazing champion for Fruit, and I love hearing her talk about what a wonderful book it is. Also on the panel is Anne-Marie Witthenshaw, who is defending Michel Tremblay's The Fat Woman Next Door Is Pregnant. She also seemed to like Fruit. This puts Fruit in a good spot for today.

Please tune in to CBC Radio One at 11:30am every day this week, repeated at 7:30pm each day, and if you're outside of Canada, try the broadband, which you can listen to here (Go to Radio One and click on the program name Q). Today they'll vote off one book, and will do so every day until Friday, when it'll be down to two books and one will be declared the one book that all of Canada must be reading!

Also, there is an online poll on the Canada Reads site, and if you ever wanted to thank me for hosting this blog (first of all, you reading this is thank-you enough) then please please please vote for Fruit. The People's Choice gets kudos too, and if he can't win on the show, I'd love him to win this way! :) Let Canada know that the story of an overweight boy who is discovering he is gay is a book everyone should be reading!

Come on, FRUIT!!!!!

Oh Darlton... Why Dost Thou Torture Me?

There's this game I used to play with other English lit nerds when I was in university. I think we called it Shame (it's been a long time. Sigh). It works in a pop culture setting very well, too. If you're a huge fan of movies, like I am, you name the one movie you've never seen... the one you should be ASHAMED of yourself for not seeing. (For me, it's Gone With the Wind. Never seen it.) Or maybe there's a TV series you've never watched that you really should have, especially if you're writing books on Lost. *cough* I'm not even going to say what that is, for fear people will run screaming away from my blog like I'm some charlatan know-nothing. Wild horses can't drag that one out of me.

But it's when it came to literature that it got fun. I remember being out for drinks with a guy who was an assistant professor and we were playing the game, and he admitted to never having read Hamlet. I think half of us either choked on our drinks or spit them out completely. "How is that possible?!" we asked in complete bafflement. "Special skills?" he replied.

For me, that book that has been missing from my own personal canon is James Joyce's Ulysses. I know I should read it. Every day on June 16 I swear I'm going to take the day off, disappear into a basement and read the entire thing (that is Bloomsday, after all). I actually went and bought my copy in Paris at Shakespeare & Co., one of the world's most famous bookstores (my friend CK just posted pics of the store here) because that's where the book was written. I got them to stamp the front inside cover with their special stamp to prove that's where I bought it. That was in December 2000. It's been sitting on a bookshelf ever since, and every once in a while I glance over at it, send "good intention vibes" its way, and then it continues to sit for another 6 months before I glance at it again.

But now, Damon and Carlton have announced that in season 5, Ben Linus will be seen reading a copy of Ulysses in the season's seventh episode (this is in the special Dharma Access video that went out to subscribers last night; it will be on the ABC site some time tomorrow). Now I have to take the behemoth off the shelf. I have to open it and turn PAST the page with the fancy stamp. I have to read it.

I'm kind of scared.

I mean, this is something I've been building up to since my undergrad. It's like one of those things I've always looked forward to, but like Desmond and his tattered copy of Our Mutual Friend, figured it might be one of the last things I do. How do I read it? Do I check the footnotes as I go? Do I just read it straight and hope I get the feel of the lilting language, much like you do with a Shakespeare play? I feel like the thing needs to come with instructions. I talked to a friend of mine several years ago who is a well known Canadian poet and he told me the best way to read Ulysses is to avoid the footnotes altogether. So I think that's what I'll do.

I might disappear for a while. I'm not sure whether to curse the houses of Cuse and Lindelof for doing this to me, or to send blessings their way for giving me the heads up before the season actually started. (Here I am in December, and quite literally, when Damon held up the book and announced it, I dropped my head to the desk with a thud and moaned, "Why... why... WHY?!" Could you IMAGINE what my reaction would have been in March if that had been the first time I saw Ben reading it?)

But, I vow to you, gentle readers, there will be a chapter on Ulysses in my season 5 book. But you have to promise me that YOU will be reading this book, too. (And to my friends who are university English majors and professors who are reading this now... prepare for the onslaught of emails from me.)

Wow. How will I play the shame game now? I've been using Ulysses as my answer for so long I wouldn't know what to say next.

Now I don't think I can ever watch Gone with the Wind.

Announcing...

Moments ago, the CBC announced the nominees for this year's Canada Reads contest, and one of those books is Fruit, by Brian Francis! (I'm time traveling right now, by the way... I'm writing this in the past to you readers in the future, and setting the post to reveal itself after the CBC has unveiled the books.)

I was the acquisitions and developing editor on this book, and it's still one of my favourite books of all time. Brian was a dream to work with, and despite having to read the book 7 or 8 times, I laughed out loud every time I did. I adore this book, and I'm thrilled that this has happened for Brian.

How Canada Reads works is this: five people are chosen, and they nominate one book each. The books are unveiled to the general public on November 25 (today) and then Canadians have a little over three months to read the books. Then, the week of March 6, the five people who are championing the books will defend their books in daily debates, with one book being eliminated every day until a winner is chosen.

You can go to the Canada Reads blog daily and see podcasts, blogs, and hear audio of the authors reading from their books, and there's a chance to vote for your favourite. But the main thing is getting Canada to read these books. These are five fantastic books that have been chosen, but if you want to read a book that will not let you down, Fruit is it.

The book is about Peter Paddington, a 13-year-old overweight boy who is being let down by his body, and one day he swears his nipples, which have popped out like overripe cherries, are talking to him. They become his sense of doubt, whispering that the other kids will find out his secret, that he's hiding this "fruit" beneath his clothes that they're going to discover. Meanwhile, he tries to be a good kid, hanging out with his hilarious friend Daniela, who swears like a trucker, and doing his paper route while having naughty fantasies about one of his customers coming to the door wearing nothing but a red Speedo.

The inner life of Peter Paddington is at once hilarious, sad, and sweet, and I cannot recommend it enough. If you grew up in the 70s and 80s, the nostalgia will take you back to those times (Peter sits behind a girl who carves Adrian Zmed's name all over her binder). If you ever thought your body was less-than-perfect or other kids were making fun of you, you will be right there with Peter as he worries about what the others are thinking of him. If you've ever thought your family was destined for the loony bin, you'll sympathize with Peter dealing with his two older sisters, his worrying, nervous mother, his mostly absent father and his friendly Uncle Bernard.

So come on, Canada, it's time to read!! And what better way to start than with the best book of the bunch. (No bias here.) You can get the book here. Enjoy!!

UPDATE: Here is an article about Canada Reads, highlighting Fruit!!
Canada Reads Goes Queer

This Vampire Book SUCKS...

And not the way a vampire book is SUPPOSED to suck.

I don't know what rock I've been living under, but I only heard about Stephenie Meyer's massively popular Twilight book series a few months ago, mostly after the movie was announced with the cast and everything. My friend Sue read the book and told me not to bother, so I didn't give it another thought, until Entertainment Weekly ran a piece on the author of the series and how hotly anticipated the last book of the series, Breaking Dawn, was among the fans. Then I went into Costco and they had the first 3 books there the week before the release of Breaking Dawn. So I bought it.

The short version: Sue was right.

See, I don't hate for hate's sake. My husband, for example, hates the Harry Potter series of books. Why? Because they're wildly successful, and he equates that with mediocrity. That and J.K. Rowling acting like a complete baby over that Lexicon that she is currently trying to block. Has he read any of them? No. I've told him that if he read the books, he'd realize they really are brilliant. J.K. Rowling might be a complete egotistical diva, but the woman has created a world and a series that is unparalleled in today's children's literature.

So, I realized if I were going to hate the Twilight series, I needed to read it first so I could properly criticize it. And BOY do I have a lot to criticize.

First, in the EW article it described the series of books as being about a young girl who falls in love with a vampire who turns out to be much older. And they're making a movie of the book. "Hmm," I thought, "Will Sarah Michelle Gellar and David Boreanaz be reprising their roles, since this is a COMPLETE RIPOFF OF BUFFY?!" Luckily, by reading the book I realized that wasn't the case. Stephenie Meyer just isn't that good a writer. Her descriptions are cliched and overwrought, the dialogue is wooden, and she repeats herself over and over and OVER AND OVER again. The book could have been 200 pages shorter if we didn't have to read 50 times that Edward's golden eyes were like honey or Bella was rubber in his presence or his breath was like honey (yeah, there's a lot of honey in this book) or Edward chuckled, guffawed, laughed, or giggled his way out of every situation.

Quick synopsis: Bella moves to Forks, a rainy, gloomy area of the Pacific Northwest, because her dad lives there and her mom is off with her new boyfriend somewhere else. Her first day of school she sees this mysterious group of 5 kids and they're described as Dr. Cullen's adopted kids: Edward, who is impossibly beautiful; Alice, the goth pixie chick who is stunning; Rosalie, who is beautiful but a bitch; Emmett, also beautiful with a smirk on his face, and Jasper, the youngest of the bunch. Edward sits next to Bella in class that day and seems to be furious with her, clutching the edge of his desk and trying to keep as far away from her as possible. For about 175 pages she tries to figure out what is their problem, what makes them so beautiful, why is Edward so strong, why is their skin so white, and on and on. Apparently Meyer is trying to make us sympathize with Bella and similarly think, "Hmm... good questions, Bella, why ARE they so white? Why DO they look like they do?" But if you can READ you've seen the back cover, where it has a quote from the middle of the book where Bella is talking about Edward being a vampire. So the first 175 pages are us going, "He's a bloody vampire, for cripes' sake, can we MOVE ON??"

Every time Bella is in Edward's presence, he has this way of looking at her, this glow in his eye, this "impossibly beautiful" face that's been chiselled by God, to hear Bella explain it, and she can't breathe, walk, speak, or think. He's the most gorgeous human being on the planet. There's a lot of heavy breathing, Edward telling her he loves her, him getting close to her then pulling away. It's complete trash. As I said to my husband, "I think this book was written with the sole purpose of making adolescent girls wet." He asked, "What, is there a lot of vampire sex?" I said, "No, just a lot of vampire dry humping."

It's harmless, of course. I mean, while part of me is saying there is no way I'm letting my daughter within a hemisphere of this book when she is 13, I then remember that when I was 13 I read the Flowers in the Attic series, with all the brothers and sisters locked in the attic and the longing and the puberty and the incestuous sex and the baby-having and total craziness. And I LOVED those books. I'm assuming Twilight has that same audience, not discerning and hardly critical.

But what was so obvious to me about halfway through was one simple fact: Edward is a complete DICK. Take away his looks, his charm, the supernatural hold he has over Bella, and he's moody, angry, emotionally abusive, domineering, and acts like Bella is a toddler who can't make decisions for herself. He's possessive and dangerous and constantly laughs at Bella and makes big life decisions for her. Meanwhile, Bella is about as interesting as a blade of grass, and in the big climax in the end I was praying for her demise, but knew it was in vain since there were 3 more books to suffer through.

My friend Marion read the series and said she was completely ambivalent throughout, and felt like she had to take a shower every time she read part of it. I couldn't have put it better myself. I was drawn in by Edward, and hated myself for being drawn in. When he wasn't on the page, I was dead bored. All the action in the novel happens in the last 100 pages, but I found them completely boring.

Is there ANYTHING redeeming? Sure... the reason she's come up with for why vampires try to stay out of the sun is original. Alice intrigued me a bit. Until she was described as a vampire who has visions and was out of her mind when she was turned... I guess Juliet Landau can reprise HER role, too. (Oh, and there's a suggestion that one of the characters might be a werewolf... Seth, are you free, too?)

When I first read that EW article, I was angry. I remember when I first started watching Buffy and I thought it would make a great series of YA novels. So when I read the article I thought, "Argh, Meyer went ahead and did it, while stupid me, I thought JOSS ALREADY HAD." I was angry I hadn't gotten there first. But then I read it and realized, oh. If THIS is what sells, I'm glad I didn't write it.

One thing is for certain. People need to be careful about cavalierly throwing around the "Next J.K. Rowling" mantle. Yeah, Meyer has proven she can also write adult fiction badly, not just Y/A, while Rowling is so far resting on the laurels of Harry. But you know what? She can rest on it for good and never write another word, and she would have solidified her place as a great writer. Meyer just hasn't done that with this book. I've read she's a stay-at-home mom of four, and for THAT I am impressed, but I wonder if she'd want any of her kids reading this when they're 13?

Sigh. Where's the good vampire novels when you want them?

Good news, however... I have seen the first two episodes of True Blood, and it's frickin' fantastic. A longer review to come.

In the meantime, skip Twilight and rewatch the first two seasons of Buffy. You'll thank me for it.

Born Standing Up by Steve Martin
I was introduced to comedy by my father. I can honestly say I got my sense of humour from him, and I am eternally grateful for that. He was a connoisseur of off-the-wall comedy, showing me my first Monty Python sketch when I was 7, playing me records of Beyond the Fringe shows when I was 6, and first playing me Steve Martin's "King Tut" when I was 5. I still remember how wacky that song was: "Born in Arizona but he moved to Babylonia... born in Arizona, had a condo made of stone-a, KING TUT!" My brother and I thought the song was awesome. (That and the more obscure "Basketball Jones" by Cheech and Chong that Dad would play us all the time, complete with the George Harrison guitar solo in the middle... I think I was 9 before we discovered one day when our parents weren't in the room that there were FAR racier tracks on that record.) My mom, meanwhile, would roll her eyes at And Now For Something Completely Different while my brother, dad and I would be laughing so hard we were crying, and she couldn't understand what we saw in any of this.

So naturally, when I heard Steve Martin had written his biography, I bought the book for Dad for Christmas. And because I was going on about it all the time, my husband bought it for me. I just read it, and it's one of the most fascinating memoirs I've ever read, mostly because of the tone of it.

Steve Martin is, simply, a terrific writer. His talent stretches beyond writing crazy hilarious films like The Jerk and one of my all-time favourites, Bowfinger. I've never read Shopgirl, but by all accounts it's amazing (I was halfway through Born Standing Up when I went out and bought it, and that's next on my reading list). The guy's been in show business for 40 years, and one would think his biography would be a 600-page brick. But instead it's a slim volume, quick read, and very succinct. The tone throughout is very matter-of-fact, simply stating the facts and moving quickly through his years, stopping at The Jerk. He tells us how he got his start in showbiz by being a ticket-taker at Disney World, followed by working in the gift shop where he would show off the magic tricks. His magic became his thing, and he began incorporating some comedy into it, and then comedy became the main instigator. About 4/5 through the book he's still playing tiny clubs and giving himself one more year to "make it" before swearing he'll throw in the towel, when he suddenly finds himself the biggest draw in the country.

One theme repeated throughout the book is his difficult relationship with his father. No matter how successful he becomes, his father never seems to be proud of him, and he keeps coming back to that. He talks about playing clubs, and his father saying he's not funny. He mentions being on SNL, and his father actually writing a bad review of the show in the company newsletter (!). Eventually, as a writer, Martin sees this theme as one that must be resolved, and he does so right near the end of the book.

Like most people who have work in the public eye, he remembers every word of every bad review, and glosses over the good ones. He recalls every screw-up onstage, but he also references some of his funnier bits. There were moments in the book where I was laughing out loud, and other times where I was cringing. He doesn't get so far in his life as to talk about his masterpieces, like Planes, Trains and Automobiles ("You're going the wrong way!!" "How does he know which way we're going?"); Dirty Rotten Scoundrels (Ruprecht the Monkey Boy is still one of my all-time favourite moments in a film); or Bowfinger, that movie that I can pretty much quote from beginning to end, and the one that made all of us go, "Oh my god, he's still got it! So why the HELL is he doing crap like Cheaper by the Dozen II?"

Maybe it's because of that perception that he stays away from his later career. This is a guy who never did well in high school, yet has developed such a mastery in creative writing that I could see him writing a lot more fiction in the future. He talks about discussions he has with friends about the differences between psychoanalysis and art, or reading articles about social history in journals. The guy is so smart, and that's what sets him apart from other Hollywood entertainers, or memoir writers.

This is an amazing book, full of wit, nostalgia, love, and just a little regret. I'd recommend it to anyone who's a fan of Steve Martin, or off-the-wall comedy, or Hollywood in general.

Book Review: Don't You Forget About Me
If you were born in the 70s, and became a teenager in the 80s, then you're a fan of John Hughes teen films. End of story. (Or, if you happen to be a big sister to a little sister born in the 80s, you perhaps introduced her to the John Hughes oeuvre, as my best friend S. did.) There's just something about these movies that instantly transports us back to the pain, ache, and joy of high school. It's like watching an early season of Buffy.

Now, I'm referring to the main trilogy here: Sixteen Candles, The Breakfast Club, and Pretty in Pink. We could also discuss Weird Science (briefly), Some Kind of Wonderful, and Ferris Bueller's Day Off, but it's the Molly Ringwald entries that truly count.

So when my pal F. suggested that I should read this collection of essays by writers writing about the passion these movies stir within them, I couldn't resist. She lent me her copy, and it's one of the best reads I had all year.

Interestingly, The Breakfast Club -- John Hughes' masterpiece -- isn't actually talked about all that much. There seems to be far more to say about Ferris Bueller and Sixteen Candles. However, considering I've seen both of those movies about a dozen times each, since TBS plays them constantly, I didn't mind. There's an essay about why Cameron in Ferris Bueller is the greatest supporting character ever ("When Cameron was in Egypt's Land.... Let my Cameron gooooooo") and another about why he's the whiniest, most annoying character in the Hughes canon. There is a ton of ink spilled in the name of Molly Ringwald -- whether we liked her as the rich girl, the poor girl, or the forgotten girl... whether we were in love with her... whether we WERE her -- and those essays range from the hilarious to the vaguely disturbing, but they're always entertaining. There's an essay about how Hughes portrays the outcast "best buddy" as a homosexual who somehow longs for the opposite sex. Mary Stuart Masterson is pretty butch in Some Kind of Wonderful, while Duckie is pretty obviously gay in Pretty in Pink. And Cameron's just kind of asexual.

As I read through these, I kept thinking that Pretty in Pink was a movie that never resonated with me much, and it turns out most of the writers think of it in a negative fashion as well (it probably has something to do with the fact that Hughes wrote it, but didn't direct it). At least four of the writers mention that the movie was supposed to end with Andie ending up with Duckie, and when they showed that ending to audiences, they hated it, wanting her to end up with Blaine instead. So... the ending was reshot, with her ending up with the richie, and some pretty girl making eyes at Duckie, which was supposed to make us think all was well with the world. I'm pretty sure that's why that movie disturbed me. (Or it could have been that James Spader's character is SO loathsome, yet so hot, causing some major confusion when I was watching it.)

If you're a fan of these films, definitely check out this book, edited by Jaime Clarke. And thanks, F., for lending it to me!