(Erm, possibly not for the Oprah thing; after all, she did describe some aspect of the wedding as being “on spot,” while her British correspondent nodded and smiled in a very British way that seemed polite but clearly said Oprah is a gigantic poser.)

On the subject of the incredible amount of media attention given to the wedding, a lot of people have griped or just goggled about why Americans, in particular, care so much about some other country’s future king’s wedding. We did, after all, fight a long war for independence from said country because we weren’t too keen on their monarch.  I snarked on Facebook about the ridiculous wedding merchandise marketed to Americans, notably, a positively ghastly Kate Middleton figurine collection, but other than that the media glut didn’t really bother me. In fact, I thought speculation about Kate’s gown was a rather pleasant distraction from recent headlines of wars, economic recession, earthquakes, tsunamis, wildfires, and tornadoes. Others, understandably, including Brian Williams and the NBC Nightly News, thought it was inappropriate to give so much attention to something as frivolous as a royal wedding when there’s so much trouble in the world right now.

But as the wedding unfolded and the media voices fell silent, I became absorbed in the magnificence of Westminster Abbey and the transcendent songs of the choir and the solemn tradition of the ceremony itself and wondered if two billion people weren’t drawn to this for a reason that runs much deeper than a bit of pleasant distraction.

My favorite scene in the Harry Potter books takes place in the Hogwarts infirmary after the Death Eaters break into Hogwarts and–SPOILER ALERT!–Snape kills Dumbledore . The Order of the Phoenix are gathered around the bedside of Bill Weasley, whose face got eaten by a werewolf during the battle, and everyone expects Bill’s seemingly shallow fiancée Fleur Delacour to call off the wedding because of his disfigurement. Only Fleur surprises everybody by saying she loves Bill more than ever now, which prompts an outburst from Nymphadora Tonks who has, apparently, been involved in a tumultuous relationship with Remus Lupin who won’t marry her because he’s a werewolf and that makes him “too old, too poor…too dangerous” for her. But Tonks disagrees, and wants to hash it out with Remus right then and there. He responds, “This is…not the moment to discuss it. Dumbledore is dead…” And then, surprise of all surprises, Professor McGonagall dresses him down: “Dumbledore would have been happier than anybody to think that there was a little more love in the world.”

Because isn’t love what it’s all about? The root of everything we fight against, everything we fight for–nature, politics, evil–is love. Family. Marriage. Without that, the human race can’t survive. And not just in a reproductive sense, though that’s certainly part of the biological drive to love. But our emotional survival is just as crucial, and humans aren’t solitary creatures. We need someone to love and to cherish, to have and to hold, for better or for worse, for rich or for poor, in sickness and in health till death do us part.

That’s why, when the world is burning up and blowing away all around us, two billion of us turn our televisions to watch some other country’s future king’s wedding. Because we need a little more love in the world.

(And also very beautiful dresses and very bad hats.)

But it didn’t happen in Walmart, it happened in JC Penney.

So many mistakes were made that if I could have a do-over, I’m not even sure which would be the most important to do-over first. Of course the situation would have been avoided entirely had I not attempted to shop for clothes without assistance, but in lieu of that, the next smartest thing would have been not to let the Burt Squirt out of his stroller so he could run amok in the fitting room while I tried on clothes. Smarter still would have been to check before undressing that I was in a fitting room that actually locked, or, at the very least, to make sure that the door latched shut properly so that the Burt Squirt couldn’t push it open and dart out into the Juniors department.

Which is precisely what happened.

While I was clad only in a pair of khaki shorts and a flesh-toned strapless bra, looking, at a glance, quite naked.

It was one of those moments in which you feel suspended in time as the world moves on around you. There I stood, in the wide open doorway of the fitting room, fully exposed to anyone who happened by, watching the Burt Squirt’s short, chubby legs increase the distance across which I would have to streak. He stumbled a little over the toe of his slightly too-long sandal as he looked back over his shoulder to mock me with the gap-toothed grin that should not have been at all adorable under the circumstance, while I stood there, ineffectively calling him to come back to me and wondering whether I was going to have to chase after him, barely clothed as I was, or if I could scramble into a shirt before I lost him in the racks of clothes or worse.

I took my chances and opted to get dressed first. I may be willing to be that mom, who attracts a number of head wags and eye rolls because shecan’t get her toddler to ride in his stroller without him pitching a shrieking temper tantrum, but I’m not quite ready to be that mom, who chases her toddler naked through JC Penney. I still have a shred of dignity left–

–the shred that makes me willing to blog about almost chasing my toddler naked through JC Penney.

Jessica Barnes brings years of experience to the table, knows the publishing industry, has an instinct for storytelling, and has a great bedside manner as she dissects authors’ work. In addiction to providing me with invaluable feedback about how to improve my book and make it more marketable, she generously gave more of her time so I could interview her about the ins and outs of editing fiction. I hope you’ll find her responses as informative as I did.

LR: First off, do you do any writing yourself?

Jessica: I dabble a bit, and I do enjoy writing, but I realized a couple years ago that I’m a much better editor than I am a writer. As a famous fiction editor named Ellen Seligman once said, “What I am is the ideal reader, not the ideal imaginer.” That describes me to a T. So yes, I do write. Just not with what you’d call purpose.

LR: Why did you decide to become an editor?

Jessica: I’ve always been a reader, a lover of fiction. I wanted to be involved in the making of stories, because story and fiction is so important to culture and society–there’s a reason morality and wisdom has been passed down through storytelling since the beginning of civilization.

Wow. That sounded really pretentious. Mostly, I just love books and wanted to work with books. Editor seemed to be the way to go.

LR: How did you become one?

Jessica: I was an English major in college, and I had this vague idea that editing books would be a cool job, but I didn’t really know how one went about it or what it involved.I took creative writing classes, where I learned about good writing and how to put a story together, and then after college I went to this mini-grad school / summer course called the Denver Publishing Institute. There, in a month, you learn about all the different aspects of publishing, try your hand at some editing and marketing, and meet a lot of industry people. I somehow managed to land a job at a publishing company as an assistant after that, and it turned out all my reading and my writing courses had given me an instinct for good story and good writing.

LR: So you can get a job with an English major. Good to know!

Was an English or writing major required for the Denver Publishing Institute? Are there other such programs available to would-be editors?

Jessica: No, you didn’t have to be an English major to apply for the Publishing Institute. There were people there from other countries, people making career changes, people in related fields that wanted some background in publishing, and, of course, a ton of college students dying to get into the publishing field. The Denver Publishing Institute at Denver University and the Summer Publishing Institute at New York University are the only two summer publishing courses that I know of, but that doesn’t mean there aren’t more.

LR: What’s your typical editing process?

Jessica: Editing is an incredibly subjective, gut-instinct kind of process. It’s reading a book, saying “I don’t like this” about an element, figuring out what isn’t working and then how to fix it. There are some black-and-white rules, but in writing, the rules get broken just as often as they get followed, so you can’t rely on them. It’s more about evaluating the experience of the book, making sure it’s as strong and has as great an impact on the reader as possible.

Generally when working with a manuscript, I start big and work my way down to the details. I usually read the manuscript all the way through first, perhaps making some notes on my initial impressions about plot elements or character interactions. Then I read it through again, more slowly and carefully, looking at the plot and structure of the book as a whole, identifying the weak spots, and brainstorming ways to make them stronger. At that point, usually, I give the author my notes and suggestions so they can make some revisions to the book, strengthen those weak spots. Then, on my third pass, I look at the nitty-gritty details and the actual writing. This is the stage where the manuscript gets marked up so that it “bleeds red”–trimming unnecessary words, rephrasing passive voice or clunky passages, making sure all the details are consistent. The author gets it back, goes over my changes, makes any changes they’d like, and then the manuscript is ready for the copy editors!

LR: And how does the copy editing process differ from what you do?

Jessica: Copy editing is the nitty-gritty detailed editing work–punctuation, spelling, formatting, those obscure grammar rules that most of us don’t even know exist. They check facts, making sure everything is accurate and correct. They catch consistency mistakes, they question details that might not, under scrutiny, make sense. Copy editors are amazing and undervalued. They make the author (and the editor) look good, and they rarely ever get credit for their efforts.

LR: How do publishers assign editors to authors?

Jessica: Every publishing house does this a little differently, but in most of them, an editor acquires their own authors. They read the author’s proposal, liked it, bought the book, and take it from there. So in a sense, the editors assign themselves to authors.

LR: So are editors the people who actually field book proposals from agents and read and accept manuscripts for a publisher?

Jessica: Usually, at least in the houses I’m familiar with. The agents communicate directly with the editors on what they’re looking for and pass them proposals. Sometimes these might go through the editorial assistants, but the assistants are more usually digging through the “slush pile” of unsolicitied submissions. But because the editors and agents have a relationship, they work directly with each other. Editors read the submissions from agents and decide which proposals they like enough to take to the acquisition committee, where the rest of the company editors along with some sales and marketing folks evaluate proposals and decide which ones to buy and publish, based on quality, marketability, and how many copies they think they can sell.

LR: How different is a manuscript after you’ve worked on it? Do authors have much input on the editing process?

Jessica: How different a manuscript is after I’m done with it compared to when it came in really depends on the project. I’ve had books on which I did very little–just polished it up, mostly–and I’ve had books in which I gave the author an entire new outline for the latter half of their  book. Most of the time, it falls somewhere in the middle. Maybe 25% of the book changes significantly.

For me, editing is a very collaborative process. I’m very aware, as I work, that this is not MY book. It’s the author’s. The author is trusting me to look at it objectively and make suggestions for how to make it better. Most authors understand this as well, so it’s a very rewarding experience, working hand-in-hand with someone to shape their vision into the best possible version. I love brainstorming with authors, trying to figure out a sticky point in the plot or a way to rewrite this scene so that it accomplishes everything it needs to. In the end, however, the book is the author’s work, and they have the final word. (Doesn’t mean I won’t argue with them a little, but in the end, it’s their call.)

LR: How do authors typically respond to your feedback? Have you ever encountered a really stubborn author who refused your advice and then reception of the book suffered for it?

Jessica: Most of the authors I’ve worked with are favorable to editorial feedback, because they understand I’m helping them, not attacking them. I’ve been lucky that the situation in which a book suffers because an author and I couldn’t work together hasn’t happened to me. Though I’m sure other editors would have a different story for you.

…until today, when I walked into my neighborhood CVS to pick up a few prints.

I was carrying the Burt Squirt, and the rather trollish woman behind the counter saw us as she rang up a customer and made me jump by shouting, “I know that baby!”

At first (because, as I said, I hadn’t thought about One Hour Photo in years) I thought she was referring to the fact that we’re regular customers. I discovered this wasn’t the case when she said, “Oh my gawd, that picture! The one on the playground, with the monkey bars–that is the cutest picture I’ve ever seen! And I see a lot of baby pictures in here!”

Suddenly visions of a psychotic Robin Williams were dancing in my head. My heartbeat quickened–this person not only had seen the Burt Squirt’s pictures, she had my phone number, my address…she was going to to come steal my child–

“I have eight grandchildren,” her nasally tones that sounded uncannily like Roseanne’s interrupted my panicked internal monologue, “so I know about cute kids! You should send that picture to a magazine!”

She was so busy talking up the Burt Squirt’s picture to her customer that she didn’t notice the huge sigh of relief I heaved. Of course, contrary to what the movies would have us believe, most people who work in drugstores are not lonely and unhinged and suffering from delusions of being adopted into the families whose pictures they develop. For most people, developing pictures is just a job.

A job some people are very good at; after telling me how cute my kid was, I was putty in her hands when she asked me if I’d like to buy some picture frames for a dollar apiece.

Why, yes, I will take three, please.

When Crystal inquired about it, Greg scrunched up his nose in an expression of distaste and replied, “That cereal was yucky.”

Since the Burt Squirt became mobile, various family members have laughingly warned me to keep our cat’s food dish out of his reach. Usually when he’s crawling or toddling about I do, but today the Burt Squirt turned on the stealth and managed to try the yucky cereal on the sly.

Only he didn’t seem to think it was very yucky.

Of course it happened because I was distracted–ironically, with cooking the Burt Squirt’s dinner. Obviously I wasn’t serving dinner quickly enough, because when I turned around, there was the Burt Squirt, sitting in the kitchen with his legs splayed out, Dorrie’s food dish between them. One pudgy hand hand fisted as many dry chicken pellets as the stubby fingers could close around; the other waved winsomely at me.

His little mouth, still with only the four front teeth in it, was chewing.

And it would have continued to do so, judging from the way his nose was not scrunched up in an expression of distaste, had I not gone fishing for one, two, and a half pieces of cat food. There might have been more–probably there was at least another half a piece–but the Burt Squirt wriggled away before I could plumb the depths of his mouth for the rest of his quarry. Goodness only knows how much he consumed before I saw him doing it.

I’m not worried, especially since just the other day I saw a TV ad for an expensive brand of cat food that slagged off all the commercial brands for being made mainly of corn. If corn’s good enough for my cat, it’s good enough for my kid! That might be a backwards philosophy, but I’ll keep it in mind in the dog days of summer when he starts catching and eating the baby geckos that find their way into the house.

Saw this floating around the blogosphere in honor of World Book Day 2011 (not related to the encyclopedia) and thought it would make a fun, quick post for a Friday night.

The book I am reading: The White Queen by Philippa Gregory, and my feelings about it are mixed. The story is interesting, a page-turner, as her books always are, but the writing quality fluctuates, and so far the characters aren’t gripping me quite like the ones in The Other Boleyn Girl and The Boleyn Inheritance.

Technically I’m also reading Cordelia’s Honor by Lois McMaster Bujold, whose Chalion fantasy series I adored, but I’ve temporarily abandoned it because I got a bit bogged down in space politics after having only recently finished reading all the Orson Scott Card books. I really like the characters, though, so I’m sure I’ll be back to it once I’ve had enough of a fix in a different genre.

The book I am writing: Still Songs for Piano and Voice, which has received the attention of an editor whose critique confirmed most of my suspicions about bits that still need work and provided insight into potential marketing issues to work around. I’m excited to get back to work on it and whip it into shape; if only the Burt Squirt would cooperate by taking longer naps!

The book I love most: Anne of Green Gables, without question. My copy is falling apart, and every time I read it, I still laugh out loud. The warm fuzzies I come away with aren’t just from the oh-so-endearing characters, but also the nostalgia of reading it with my mom when I was eight and laid up with a broken arm, and of my friend Susan and me acting out Anne with our Barbies.

The last book I received as a gift: My brother gave me Housekeeping by Marilynne Robinson for Christmas. I read a couple of chapters, but I had a hard time getting into it because so far it’s just the narrator talking about her grandfather and not giving me a good feel for who she is. I’ll probably pick it up again sometime, when I’m in a more literary frame of mind (and have had more sleep).

That’s right, the Burt Squirt is feeding himself–which means all that worrying I was doing about how I’d ever get him eating a variety of textured stage three baby foods was for nothing (as all worrying tends to be).

About two weeks ago he flat refused to eat his favorite puréed bananas, squash, and sweet potatoes and began gobbling up table food like he was afraid Mr. Burt and I were going to send our leftovers to starving kids in Africa. He’s not yet eating what we have at meals, but he has a fairly extensive menu of his own: bananas, whole grain toast, whole grain blueberry waffles, cheese, chicken, black beans, corn, peas, kidney beans, sweet potatoes, Annie’s Bunny Pasta with Yummy Cheese, whole wheat crackers, strawberries, brown rice, and whole wheat tortillas.

And talking of whole things, despite now having four teeth with which to chew, pretty much all of the Burt Squirt’s food comes out looking exactly like it did when it went in. Potty training is looking really good right now. Except that the Burt Squirt has never put up a fuss about having a dirty diaper, so that would probably be an exercise in poo-tility.

On the subject of fits, the Burt Squirt doesn’t exactly pitch temper tantrums (much), but he does know how to make himself pretty clear about what he wants. When he wants to go outside, he toddles over to the french door to the patio and pounds on it till you either take him out in the back yard or put him in his stroller to go to the park. If he wants you to read to him, he’ll go get one of his books and throw it at you. (Clearly I need to teach him that this is not the meaning of that idiom.) And if you don’t drop what you’re doing and get on the floor to read it to him immediately, he’ll follow you around with the book, flinging it at your feet, until you do. At some point this behavior will have to stop, but right now the novelty of it makes it endearing. (And as an English lit major, I can hardly discourage my child’s love of reading; after all, I carry around an e-book reader and an iPod in the belief that reading can and should take place at any given moment.)

Anyway, I’m sure speech will replace this cavemannish style of communication soon enough, as his jabbering now consists of just about every sound in the English language (plus some other interesting ones that make me wonder if he isn’t speaking Swahili). Though he has been known to sit with other babies and simply shriek back and forth at them, as was the case when his twin girlfriends Ava and Zoe were here for his birthday party.

Now that I’ve come full-circle back to the subject of the Burt Squirt’s birthday, I’ll make the obligatory remark about how hard it is to believe that my baby boy is a year old already, that it seems like not very long ago that I held him for the first time in the hospital. (Except that it seems like a very long time ago that I got a good night’s sleep!)

As I thought about this post, the lyrics to Seasons of Love from RENT kept going through my head: “How do you measure a year in the life?” With babies, it’s easy to fall into the habit of measuring growth in inches (somewhere around 10 since birth) and pounds (between 14.5 and 15 gained). Obviously those measurements aren’t the ones that matter (except to the Burt Squirt’s pediatrician), or I’d have more exact numbers. And contrary to what the baby books would lead us to believe, it’s not even the milestones that measure the first year (even though they do provide fodder for the mommy bloggers).

It’s the love–

–which, though not quantifiable, has undoubtedly grown.

Now, let’s see just how phenomenal my cosmic powers are…

Best Picture

• 127 Hours
  
• Black Swan
  
• The Fighter
  
• Inception
  
• The Kids Are All Right
  
• The King’s Speech
  
• The Social Network
  
• Toy Story 3
  
• True Grit
  
• Winter’s Bone

Will Win: The King’s Speech
Should Win: The King’s Speech
Most Likely to Upset: The Social Network

Best Actor

• Javier Bardem for Biutiful
• Jeff Bridges for True Grit
• Jesse Eisenberg for The Social Network
• Colin Firth for The King’s Speech
• James Franco for 127 Hours

Will Win: Colin Firth
Should Win: Colin Firth

Best Actress

• Annette Bening for The Kids Are All Right
• Nicole Kidman for Rabbit Hole
• Jennifer Lawrence for Winter’s Bone
• Natalie Portman for Black Swan
• Michelle Williams for Blue Valentine

Will Win: Natalie Portman
Should Win: Natalie Portman
Random Besmirchiness: Did anyone besides me find Annette Bening’s character in The Kids Are All Right to be completely unlikeable even though you were supposed to feel for her?
Also: What the heck is Rabbit Hole? I know Oscar is notorious for nominating movies that never hit the mainstream, but it’s strange that a star as big as Nicole Kidman could garner a nod for a film that flew completely under the radar.

Best Supporting Actor

• Christian Bale for The Fighter
• John Hawkes for Winter’s Bone
• Jeremy Renner for The Town
• Mark Ruffalo for The Kids Are All Right
• Geoffrey Rush for The King’s Speech
  

Will Win: Christian Bale
Should Win: Christian Bale
Most Likely to Upset: Geoffrey Rush
Biggest Snub: Matt Damon‘s Skeezy Mustache for True Grit

Best Supporting Actress

• Amy Adams for The Fighter
• Helena Bonham Carter for The King’s Speech
• Melissa Leo for The Fighter
• Hailee Steinfeld for True Grit
• Jacki Weaver for Animal Kingdom

Will Win: Melissa Leo, because she won the Golden Globe and the SAG.
Should Win: Hailee Steinfeld, because she had such a long script to memorize due to there not being any contractions in it. (Also, she made me care far more about her character than I did about any of the others.
Most Likely Upset: Helena Bonham Carter, because she won the BAFTA.

Best Director

• Darren Aronofsky for Black Swan
• Ethan Coen, Joel Coen for True Grit
• David Fincher for The Social Network
• Tom Hooper for The King’s Speech
• David O. Russell for The Fighter

Will Win: David Fincher, as a consolation prize for The Social Network.
Should Win: Christopher Nolan for Inception. Biggest snub of this year.
Most Likely Upset: Tom Hooper, because this year’s Oscars are pretty much a deathmatch between The King’s Speech and The Social Network.

Best Original Screenplay

• Another Year: Mike Leigh
• The Fighter: Scott Silver, Paul Tamasy, Eric Johnson, Keith Dorrington
• Inception: Christopher Nolan
• The Kids Are All Right: Lisa Cholodenko, Stuart Blumberg
• The King’s Speech: David Seidler

Will Win: David Seidler for The King’s Speech, because Best Picture usually wins screenplay or director, if not both, and The Social Network will take director.
Should Win: Christopher Nolan, because the most difficult script to write is the one that must build an entire world. He is the architect.
Most Likely Upset: Lisa Cholodenko and Stuart Blumberg, because the Academy wants to give something to The Kids Are All Right.

Best Adapted Screenplay

• 127 Hours: Danny Boyle, Simon Beaufoy
• The Social Network: Aaron Sorkin
• Toy Story 3: Michael Arndt, John Lasseter, Andrew Stanton, Lee Unkrich
• True Grit: Joel Coen, Ethan Coen
• Winter’s Bone: Debra Granik, Anne Rosellini

Will Win: Aaron Sorkin
Should Win: The Coen Brothers
Most Likely Upset: Toy Story 3, because the Academy wants to honor the entire Toy Story trilogy with one of the major awards.
Random Snark: When did they stop calling this award by the more concise title “Best Adapted Screenplay”? How do they fit the new title– “Best Writing, Screenplay Based on Material Previously Produced or Published”–on the statuette?

Best Animated Film

• How to Train Your Dragon
• The Illusionist
• Toy Story 3

Will Win: Toy Story 3
Should Win: How to Train Your Dragon

Best Cinematography

• Black Swan: Matthew Libatique
• Inception: Wally Pfister
• The King’s Speech: Danny Cohen
• The Social Network: Jeff Cronenweth
• True Grit: Roger Deakins

Will Win: Inception
Should Win: Inception

Best Score

• 127 Hours: A.R. Rahman
• How to Train Your Dragon: John Powell
• Inception: Hans Zimmer
• The King’s Speech: Alexandre Desplat
• The Social Network: Trent Reznor, Atticus Ross

Will Win: I don’t know–Oscar often flummoxes me here.
Should Win: How to Train Your Dragon

Here end my predictions; I’ve omitted most of the technical categories because I really don’t know enough about them (as if I’m an expert on the categories on which I have opined!) or care enough to judge.

Fun as it is to see more great films recognized, I like to speculate about which ones would make the cut if the Oscars were as they used to be and only five could score a nomination. Just for kicks, here is my ranking of this year’s Best Picture-nominated films:

10. The Kids Are All Right

Unfulfilled personal lives, career frustrations, and children growing up and becoming independent put strain on a marriage, with the result that one partner stumbles into an affair with the friend she’d turned to for support. But the couple work it out in the end, because their kids remind them of what’s important. Hasn’t this movie been made before? Several times? Just not with a lesbian couple, their sperm donor, and their children. But Oscar-worthy films should be original, and despite providing some laughs and touching moments, this one just isn’t.

The title, in my opinion, is an apt descriptor, though perhaps not in the way the filmmakers intended: the kids are lovely and will grow up to be lovely adults, no thanks to the actual adults in their lives, all of whom I found to be unlikeable by the end of the movie, even though the script does its best to make us believe they all learned a lesson, though what that lesson is I’m less sure of.

9. Winter’s Bone

This adaptation of Daniel Woodrell’s novel caught my attention because the story–an impoverished teenage girl in the Ozarks struggling to care for her younger siblings and mentally ill mother while her meth-dealing father is on the lam from the police–has echoes of one of my favorite books, Catherine Marshall’s Christy. (It even features Dale Dickey, who played Opal McHone in the short-lived Christy TV series.) Winter’s Bone is a poignant story and a fine film, well-executed in every department, particularly acting, for which it garnered two Oscar nods. However, the pacing is ponderous, which, while befitting the somber, even futile mood of the piece, unfortunately makes the film rather forgettable (with the exception of one extremely vivid and disturbing scene of a corpse’s hands being sawed off). Justly or not, Bone ultimately lacks the sparkle to make it a real Oscar winner.

**(If I could have it my way, Winter’s Bone and The Kids Are All Right wouldn’t be nominated at all, while The Town and How to Train Your Dragon would. But no one ever asks me for my opinion about these things.)**

8. The Fighter

The Kids Are All Right isn’t the only nominated film to suffer from lack of originality. Two years ago The Fighter came out, only then it was titled The Wrestler, and it was a better film the first time around. Mostly because when it’s Mickey Rourke vs. Marky Mark, the winner is obvious. Christian Bale steals the show as a crack addicted has-been who lands himself in prison, and Melissa Leo and Amy Adams hold their own against him as his trashy, foul-mouthed mother/manager and Mark Wahlberg’s bartender girlfriend, respectively (refreshing to see Amy Adams break out of her doe-eyed type-casting for a change and literally beat the crap out of another woman). A film’s actors, however, can be recognized without the movie itself garnering a nomination, although the documentary film-within-a-film motif provides a fresh framework for a tired tale, and makes it possible for a plot twist that hits the viewer like a sucker punch to the gut.

7.  Black Swan

If lack of originality is a problem for The Kids Are All Right and The Fighter, Black Swan possibly errs on the side of too much creativity. Only Inception has more twists and turns–and Black Swan could do with a bit of Inception‘ overload exposition to clear up just what the heck is going on! No, the ambiguity and confusion are part of the fun, if a movie as dark, creepy, and just plain screwed up as Black Swan can be called fun. I’d like to re-watch this one, because about half-way through I began to suspect that any image reflected in a mirror was all in Nina’s (Natalie Portman) mind. And Natalie Portman does deserve every award she’s won for this performance; hopefully they–and an Oscar–will finally allow her to shake the dust of the Star Wars trilogy off her feet.

6. Toy Story 3

I love this movie. It is indisputably one of the best movies of the year. But for me it doesn’t make it into the top five because I’m not sure how much of my love for it is dependent on the previous two Toy Story films, or how much it stands on its own. The prevailing feeling I come away from Toy Story 3 is that the film was a long goodbye from the writers, director, animators, and voice actors (and through them, vicariously, the fans) to the franchise. That’s not a criticism, really; the best movies are statements of love, and the makers of Toy Story 3 expressed thatin the universally poignant story of a young man saying goodbye to his beloved childhood playthings. It made me cry (as every Pixar film since Monsters, Inc. has made me do). But speaking of other Pixar movies, Toy Story 3 is no Up (which earned the first Best Picture nomination for an animated film since Beauty and the Beast made the top five back in 1992), and when I compare the stories and themes, I have to think Toy Story 3‘s nomination honors the Toy Story trilogy as a collective body. Which, again, is not a criticism so much as an observation; The Return of the King‘s 2004 Oscar sweep rightly recognized the achievements  Lord of the Rings franchise.

Toy Story 3 certainly will win the Best Animated Feature Film category–though I can’t help but think, for the first time, that a non-Pixar film is more deserving this year: I’d love to see How to Train Your Dragon slip past for a surprise win.

5. The Social Network

The Social Network won the Golden Globe for Best Drama and is neck-and-neck with The King’s Speech (which won the BAFTA) for the Oscar, but I almost didn’t place it in my top five. Though a fascinating and enjoyable movie, it just doesn’t scream Best Picture of the Year to me. It’s a smart film–written by Aaron Sorkin, it has to be–but not brilliant. It is, however, an important film, if for no other reason than years from now it will provide a snapshot of the increasingly isolated generation that necessitated social networking, as represented here by the character of Facebook creator Mark Zuckerberg. I say character because this isn’t a straight biopic, deviating pretty wildly from the facts and person of Zuckerberg, and I don’t think the film would have resonated with audiences if it had been an accurate depiction. The real Mark Zuckerberg might not have started Facebook because he was just trying to fit in, but the story of someone so socially inept ironically being responsible for a global social network–and managing to remain an outsider–speaks to the part of all of us that seeks connection, while at the same time making the concession that the line between relationship and mere interaction is tenuous at best.

4. True Grit

There’s something irresistible about a good Western. True Grit isn’t just a good Western, it’s got an almost Shakespearean quality about it. Maybe it’s the language, the lack of contractions that makes the (often hilarious) dialogue feel poetic and grandiose and not quite realistic for the genre, which in turns makes the characters seem like the icons of  theater. I can’t pinpoint it, exactly, but it works. As does the unusual but effective soundtrack which consists largely of piano arrangements of the hymn standard “Leaning on the Everlasting Arms”–a truly inspired choice that is not only appropriate for setting the right tone for the setting, but also provides a moral foundation to the story and underscores the transformative power of the heroes’ journey. If there could be a surprise upset for Best Picture, I’d love to see True Grit take home the prize* as a shining example of quintessential American cinema.

*My opinion of this film might be slightly influenced by the fact that I know a real-life Rooster Cogburn.

3. 127 Hours

The prospect of a gruesome amputation scene almost stopped me from watching 127 Hours, but I’m so glad I grinned and bore it. (Actually, I covered my eyes.) I also didn’t love the idea of an entire movie about one character trapped in one space, not having been a big fan of Cast Away–and that one man show was the incomparable Tom Hanks. But James Franco earns his place among the Best Actor nominees this year (no small feat, with the likes of Colin Firth and Jeff Bridges). It’s so much more than what I expected it to be–the story of a guy who did something stupid and paid for it; instead it’s the story of a smart guy with impressive survival instincts and skills who is the victim of a freak accident that makes him re-evaluate himself and his relationships. Through the use of stream-of-conscious flashbacks and hallucinations (and a quirky split-screen effect), as well as the camcorder which provides Franco’s Aron Ralston the opportunity to talk through his ordeal with a frequent self-deprecating humor, director Danny Boyle gives us a raw, unfiltered look at a man literally caught between a rock and a hard place (which is, I think, the title of Ralston’s book upon which the film is based) and his survival not only in body, but in mind and spirit as well.

2. Inception

What I love about Christopher Nolan’s movies is how he takes the central theme of his story and infuses every inch of the film with it. In Memento, the story of a man with no short-term memory, that means the entire movie happens backwards, in brief scenes. The Prestige is about the face-off between a real magician and an illusionist, so the three acts of the movie are constructed like the three acts of a magic trick. Inception, which is more like a dream than a movie, nails it by constructing the plot with the mythological and psychological aspects of dreams and visuals that feel like places and scenarios we’ve all visited in our own dreams–falling cars, stairs that lead to nowhere, upside-down corridors, zero-gravity hotel rooms…Even the narrative flows across disjointed scenes which, as Lenardo DiCaprio’s character points out, reflect how in dreams you never know how you get to a place in a dream, it simply makes sense that you’re there. An apt summary of the film, which is a truly memorable sci-fi thriller deserving of Oscar gold.

1. The King’s Speech

Even before the end titles rolled, I wanted to watch The King’s Speech over again. I didn’t–but it’s that kind of film. (My friend Sandy has seen it twelve times, though this may or may not have to do with Mr. Firth’s sex appeal.)

If True Grit is the quintessential American movie, then this film speaks of what it is to be English. In an Oscar race in which one of the biggest competitors is a film about broadcasting one’s life in potentially the most public of all forums, it’s interesting that  the other strong contender focuses on the idea of privacy–private pain, and private struggles. Though learning to open up about his emotional wounds is a crucial part of King George’s journey to overcome his stammer, it’s also made evident in the contrasting tabloid-worthy lifestyle of his elder brother that there’s virtue in not displaying one’s personal affairs for the world to see. Interestingly that’s the same idea at the heart of The Social Network: that technology necessarily changes how humans interact, but it’s up to us to determine how we allow it to change us.

And that’s where this film has the edge: The Social Network ends with ironic fragmentation, but The King’s Speech not only brings friends together, but unites a country, in one of the most rousing scenes I’ve seen in a movie. It made me proud to be English…except that I’m not. But that’s why we go to the movies, isn’t it? To be transported.

I’ll return later this week for my Oscar night predictions, but for now, what are your thoughts on this year’s films? Am I way off base? Any movies you feel were overlooked?

To my college roommates, should they be reading: how I miss you and your Oscar enthusiasm!

No. I don’t think I can come up with a negative comparison, when I’ve clearly found time to read and occasionally write about it.

It wasn’t until I compiled this list that I realized I’ve been reading a lot of sci-fi and fantasy; only one of the ten books is not sci-fi or fantasy. Which proves that despite my best efforts, I am a geek. (As if Battlestar Galactica being my number one top-ranked show ever wasn’t evidence enough of that.)

In addition to not having a broad representation of genres here, I also seem to have rated all my recent reads very highly. I hope this doesn’t indicate an indiscriminate taste in books; the day the Twilight saga appears on my reading list, you’ll know that’s the case. Until then, we’ll just chock it up to two things: #1, all these books are actually good, and #2, I don’t bother to finish books I don’t like. (If I did, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo would make two non-fantasy/sci-fi reads out of eleven–but I quit after 100 torturous pages of it, which is ironic, as I didn’t even make it to the torture scenes.)

Onward to the reviews!

1. Children of the Mind, by Orson Scott Card

The final book of the Ender Quartet is my favorite book of the series. Not only does the story careen to a satisfying conclusion, but it rectifies the flaws of the previous three books by minimizing time spent with the annoying characters and focusing on the most exciting ones–particularly Wang-Mu and a new avatar of the long-dead Peter Wiggin, who share an adventure that is less interesting for what it is than for the delightful snarky chemistry these two share, and the new perspective we get of Peter, who has previously been characterized as nothing short of an evil political mastermind.

My gripe about this book is an uncharacteristic one for me: a lot of time is devoted to romantic relationships. The pairings aren’t really the problem (though the one involving Young  Valentine is rather screwed up on multiple levels), it’s that romance isn’t Card’s strong suit, in this or in subsequent books.  He can’t seem to escape the idea that as soon as a couple recognizes romantic feelings, they must immediately marry and procreate–which isn’t a problem in itself, except that as Card applies it, he undermines his characterizations of strong females, relegating them to breeding machines.

But this quibble is really a minor one, especially in Children of the Mind (marriage and babies become bigger plot points in other books). And while I’m mentioning titles, I must comment on what a talent Card has for naming his books. Half the fun of reading Children of the Mind is paying attention to the various ways this theme plays out throughout the story. It’s both literal and figurative on multiple levels. I’d give anything to be able to come up with titles like that.

Rating: 5/5 stars

2. Ender’s Shadow, by Orson Scott Card

Have you ever wanted to read a book from another character’s perspective and find out just what they were up to and thought during all the central action? (I wish J.K. Rowling would do this for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, in which all the really interesting stuff happens to everyone but Harry.)

In Ender’s Shadow, Orson Scott Card improves a story you didn’t think could get any better by telling the same story over, following the point of view of Bean, another child genius who spends much of Ender’s Game as an enigma who, well, lurks in the shadows. The result isn’t a mere re-telling of the events, but instead completely shatters every conclusion you’d drawn about Ender’s Game. It’s a great example of what a narrator means to a story: Ender, you learn, has been an unreliable narrator, so in a sense it’s not until you get his story (well, it’s Bean’s story, but his story is inseparable from Ender’s) from another character’s perspective that you get the real story. And it’s a darn good one–though not, of course, without its flaws.

The “flaw” that stays with me the most probably really isn’t truly a flaw at all. But I imagine anyone who has children or has spent a good amount of time around children will have difficulty picturing Bean saying and doing the things that he does at the age of four. We’re not talking precociousness; this is a little boy who’s not only a genius and a prodigy, but extremely physically developed, as well (except that he’s tiny for his age). Maybe it’s because I live with an almost-one year-old, but I just cannot conjure up a mental image of a kid the Burt Squirt’s age (and he’s pretty advanced, having begun walking at 9 months) climbing out of his crib, toddling into a bathroom, lifting up the lid of a toilet tank (not the bowl, the tank), climbing inside, and hiding for a few days. But that could just be me…

Rating: 4/5 stars

3. Shadow of the Hegemon, by Orson Scott Card

It took six books, but Shadow of the Hegemon finally tells the story so tantalizingly hinted at throughout the Ender series: how Ender’s older brother, Peter, becomes the leader of a united world. Once again, preconceptions drawn through Ender’s unreliable narrative in previous books are shattered as Peter doesn’t become Hegemon in a megalomaniac bid for power; instead he’s helped by Bean, who’s trying to defeat an old nemesis who also wants to rule the world–and who, unlike Peter, is truly evil. The plot plays out rather like a game of Risk.

The best thing about this book is, of course, getting to finally know Peter for the first time–not Peter through Ender’s eyes, or through Valentine’s kinder but confused perspective, or even through the version of Peter in Children of the Mind, but actual Peter, as he really is: intensely flawed, but endlessly fascinating. And possibly a little bit crushworthy. If you’re the type of person who gets crushes on fictional characters. Which I certainly am not.

We also get to know some of Ender’s other Battle School friends a little better, in particular Petra Arkanian, who made more of an impact on Bean (or vice versa) than you realize in Ender’s Shadow, and who shines as a female lead who manages to be a consummate military mind while remaining wholly feminine. Ender’s parents, Theresa and John Paul, are fairly major characters in the Shadow saga, too, frequently providing welcome comic relief through their peculiar relationship with Peter who, for all his political shrewdness, regards them like all teenagers regard their parents: as idiots. Of course, the Wiggins are anything but idiots, which adds to the fun. If there was a whole book consisting of nothing but dialogue between Peter, Theresa, and John Paul, I’d read it.

In a departure from the previous of the Ender and Shadow books, Hegemon is, understandably, more political than sci-fi. But we do get a sci-fi element which becomes Bean’s ongoing storyline for the remainder of the series.

Rating: 5/5 stars

4. Shadow Puppets, by Orson Scott Card

On the whole I liked the third installment of the Shadow saga. The storyline about Peter nearly committing political (and literal) suicide by trying to use his former political opponent in order to secure his own power, and requiring Bean, Petra, and his parents to get him out of the colossal mess this inevitably creates, is fantastic. The Bean storyline? Not so much.

It’s not coincidental that when Bean gets a romance things go downhill story-wise, as it bears repeating that Orson Scott Card is no romance writer. All the issues I have with the romances in Children of the Mind are amplified here, as Bean and Petra embark on marriage in their tender teen years. Admittedly, when characters save the world from an alien enemy before they’re teenagers, it’s not completely inconceivable that marriage and children would be the next thing for them. My problem with it is not that it happens, but what it does to the characters, particularly Petra, whose balancing act between soldier and woman gets all out of whack as she obsesses about babies in an unnecessarily angst-ridden plot. Perhaps it’s that I just didn’t expect a sci-fi political page-turner to go there. I’m not sure, but by the time Petra gets her babies, I felt as brow-beaten and un-enthused about it as Bean does. If Card is trying to promote a message, he could stand more subtlety. Or he could let someone have Peter’s babies.

Female characters in general suffer in this book. Another Battle School graduate, Virlomi, becomes a central figure in the restructuring of the world order, but Card doesn’t depict her with a great deal of personality in this book, nor is her role in this book engaging, but rather reads like a big set-up for the next book.

The political parts of the book more than make up for any weaknesses in the relationship and characterization department, as things really ramp up for Peter’s expansion of the Hegemony. Battle School veteran Alai becomes Caliph of the unified Islamic nations, and their cooperation with Peter is tenuous as they face the threat of a dominant China–all of which, obviously, brings to mind real world conflicts. And it’s that hint of reality, of relatability, that makes for the very best sci-fi.

Rating: 4/5 stars

5. Shadow of the Giant, by Orson Scot Card

Possibly my least favorite of the Shadow series, I found this one difficult to read because so much of it is political strategy and military talk, which tends to bog me down. I’ll give Card a pass for that, as the more strategically-minded reader will likely lap that up, but Shadow of the Giant also lost me at the character level. My issues with Petra from the previous book continue in this one, and though it’s intentional on the part of the author, Bean’s story is all but finished, and circumstances have left him bitter and morose and generally unpleasant to read about. The Bean/Petra relationship is loaded with angst and at times even borders on melodramatic, which would be fine if their relationship had ever been truly healthy, but it hasn’t.

Then there’s Virlomi, who I complained about in Shadow Puppets as not being terribly interesting. She does get more interesting, but not in a way that’s a mark in Card’s favor for the development of admirable female characters. Going from fanatical to insane, engaging in the most ruthlessly manipulative tactics to amass power for herself, Virlomi makes a good villain, and I will grant that if it weren’t for Virlomi keeping me turning the pages, it might have taken me a lot longer to get through this book than it did. Still, it would be nice to have a female character in these books who I actually like. The best that can be said for Virlomi is that she’s more likable than Novinha in the Ender series.

But, since the end of this book leaves tantalizing possibilities for Card’s yet-to-be-written final installment of the Shadow saga, which I’ll be first in line to read, I can’t bring myself to give it a low rating.

Rating: 4/5 stars

6. The Hunger Games, by Suzanne Collins

At first I was leery of this wildly popular teen trilogy (knowing the content of other wildly popular teen series), but I couldn’t resist the premise (which is just about the only YA series that isn’t about vampires): a post-Apocalyptic United States (now called Panem)  in which children are chosen annually from each of the redesignated “districts” to fight each other to the death on 24-hour television which the rest of the country’s citizens–including the children’s families–are required to watch. Gruesome, I know, but I love me some dystopian fantasy.

The protagonist is a teenage girl named Katniss, and she is everything a female action hero should be. Convincingly  hardened by a lifetime of poverty and, after her father’s death in a mining accident, bearing the burden of her family’s survival, Katniss is neither too skilled to be believable, nor too confused or naïve about human behavior and matters of the heart to make you want to shake her, like certain other YA fantasy heroines. It’s not easy to juggle an action story with an emotional arc, but Collins progresses both plot lines in a well-paced manner through a skilled first-person POV–which is not by any means an easy voice to master, especially in an action-heavy book, but the author does so without ever coming across as awkward or stilted; in fact, Collins is a master of the art of tight, concise writing, developing an entire, vast world in broad brush strokes that comes alive in the imagination without requiring hundreds of pages to do so.

Props also go to Collins for developing a teen love triangle that is about so much more than which boy is hotter or more romantic and better suited for the heroine. Unlike other teen series, love here is explored from the standpoint of what the characters bring to the table, rather than what they get from each other, and while there’s physical stuff, it’s not there for the sole purpose of titillating rabid fangirl readers (or indulging the author’s own fantasies), but to explore the relationship between physical attraction and real love, all within the context of the heroine getting to know herself and becoming more herself instead of losing herself to an irresistible passion–a line which I think I might have borrowed from Jane Austen’s Marianne Dashwood. It’s the kind of teen love triangle I’d feel comfortable with my own child reading, and even enjoyed reading myself because it’s realistic, making good use of the fantasy genre rather than cloaking romance in an ill-fitting fantasy gimmick (rather like my thinly-veiled Twilight bashing).

Rating: 5/5 stars

7. Catching Fire, by Suzanne Collins

I should have learned after being so pleasantly surprised by The Hunger Games not to underestimate this series just because it’s marketed to teens. Because of the rules laid out in the first book for the Hunger Games, I thought I knew what was next up for Katniss and settled back to enjoy a well-written but predictable book. A very few chapters in proved this not to be the case, and the surprises just kept coming right until the cliff-hanger end that was so cruel I was really glad I discovered this series after the final book was published so I didn’t have to wait to find out what happened next.

If Catching Fire has a flaw, it’s that it’s the middle book of a trilogy and, as middle books tend to do, doesn’t stand out on its own like the first and last books do. But that’s a very minor complaint about a tightly-written story that introduces a lot of new characters and ideas crucial to the overall trilogy arc.

Collins is also to be commended for her daring to write a second book about the same characters returning to the Hunger Games without it coming across as same song, second verse. In fact, she outdid herself, devising a truly scary set of obstacles to serve as backdrop for a set of characters that are more multidimensional and compelling than those in the first book.

Rating: 5/5 stars

8. Mockingjay, by Suzanne Collins

The conclusion of the Hunger Games trilogy shines as it brings Katniss’ adventures to a satisfying end. Not a happy end, which I’ve seen a lot of complaints about, but the right end.

Even though Mockingjay breaks out of the Hunger Games arena to launch a full-scale revolution against the totalitarian regime that instituted the Games, Collins maintains her themes of control and manipulation throughout Katniss’ journey as the symbol of the rebellion. In true dystopian form, this book depicts the struggle not between good people and evil people, but between two conflicting ideologies, one being evil and the other being willing to employ evil for the sake of a cause. It’s not a new theme, not even in YA lit–in fact, it J.K. Rowling sort of addressed it in the Harry Potter series–but Collins excels here because she doesn’t get preachy or try to draw any big earth-shattering moral conclusions, except as they apply to Katniss, who is still a teenager and trying to process all of this while suffering great personal loss in the fight for what she (isn’t sure she) believes in.

Of course the love triangle is finally resolved, too, and it resolves in the only way it really could resolve. What I like about the way Katniss finally makes her choice is not that she is wooed or rescued by either suitor, but that she works with each of them, sees all their strengths and weaknesses laid out before her, and, weighing it against her feelings for each man, makes a choice that is true to herself. It may seem more pragmatic than romantic, but it works for the genre, and, I think, has a lot more in common with those more enduring literary pairings than with the pop romance that permeates teen and adult literature. To paraphrase Albus Dumbledore, we could use a little more of that kind of love in the world.

Rating: 5/5 stars

9. The Help, by Kathryn Stockett

What can I write about The Help that will do it justice? It’s one of those books that, when I finished it, I couldn’t bring myself to start anything new for a few days because I couldn’t say goodbye to the characters I’d grown to know and love, and I actually started recognizing those characters as I went about my day-to-day life. (Walmart Tempie is Aibileen; I’m going to have a difficult time adjusting my mental image for the film.)

I grew up in a small East Texas town where Welcome to Greenville, the blackest land, whitest people was printed on a sign that hung over the main street and on the water tower. I’ve heard people claim this wasn’t meant to be racist, that it referred to the rich soil that made Greenville and its surrounding communities the cotton capital of Texas, but this is the same town were the mayor defended a mob for lynching a black man falsely accused of raping a white woman in 1908, and in 1996 a KKK rally followed a rash of black church burnings. Even when I graduated from high school in 2001, the black kids and white kids formed two distinct groups in the cafeteria.

But even having been aware of racism, having witnessed the lingering effects of the segregation days on my community, having studied Jim Crow laws in history class, none of that really put a face on the millions of people who suffered, and continue to suffer, racial inequality in this country.

Then I read The Help.

Through the fictional narratives of two black maids and one young white woman in the 60s, Kathryn Stockett (a white woman and first-time novelist) gives a glimpse of race relations that is on the level of To Kill a Mockingbird. It’s that good, that beautiful, even though so much of the content is cruel and ugly.

If  the three main characters were actual people, I couldn’t love them more: Aibileen, always quietly dignified and courageous under the most demeaning treatment, yet somehow un-embittered by her experiences so that she’s able to teach a little white girl not to emulate the racism being bred into her by her parents; Minnie, who makes her complaints against her white abusers known loudly and often hilariously but breaks your heart as she cowers beneath an abusive husband; and Skeeter, the young white woman whose eyes suddenly open to the fact that the way things just are is wrong, and who gives up everything and finds herself as she does what she can to make things right. And these are just the three leads who stand out against a backdrop of dozens of equally fascinating minor characters representative of the different boundaries that we place between ourselves, so that in the end the book isn’t only a commentary on racism, but on social behaviors at large. Which I think is interesting as discussing The Help with my girlfriends has brought to life a book club rather burnt-out by several lackluster reads, and it’s teaching us a lot about each other, as well.

A 5/5 rating when I’ve rated less profound books that highly doesn’t seems right. So I’m adjusting the scale a bit to emphasize how there just isn’t enough good I can say about this book.

Rating: 10/10 stars

10. Never Let Me Go, by Kazuo Ishiguro

I read this because I saw the movie a few weeks ago. It was such a haunting and disturbing story that I couldn’t shake it and wanted to know more about it (because obviously books never make it into films in their entirety), so I immediately downloaded the ebook and read a few chapters before bed. I can’t say too much about the premise because that’ll spoil it (and I almost wish I hadn’t seen the movie first, because I missed the opportunity to discover exactly what was happening to the characters as they discovered the truth themselves), but Never Let Me Go deals with the subject of cloning, what use might be made of clones, and how clones live within the world for which they’re created.

Interestingly, the author (who also wrote Remains of the Day) doesn’t choose to set this story in the future, as one might expect, but places it within an alternate history, which lends an extra layer of fear because you don’t read it with a sense of foreboding about what people might do, but rather a sickening guilt about what we have long been capable of as the text–never explicitly–turns your mind to Nazi medical experiments.

The text is delicate and subtle, told in a rambling, conversational narrative that’s a break from sci-fi norms, yet somehow manages to be just as much of a page-turner as an action novel. And that everything is presented in such an objective, almost dispassionate tone, perhaps tinged with regret, further communicates that sense of horrified surprise that we let this happen. At times the subtlety frustrated me, because some sick part of me wanted the gritty, specific details of the world, but that it’s all kept vague and clinically distant, accepted by the narrator who assumes the reader knows the general gist of things and the rest is irrelevant, makes it that’s much scarier because it drives home all the points the novel makes about the value (and devaluing) of life.

Rating: 5/5 stars

What have you been reading?