I watched this movie last night, and I have to say — it’s quite the interesting thing to watch Viggo Mortensen as a Russian mob member.  He looks ridiculously scary in this movie, and quite a bit like Michael Douglas, oddly enough.

Eastern Promises is about the mystery surrounding a Russian girl who dies in child birth.  The midwife on duty takes the girl’s diary (written in russian, of course) and attempts to translate it to find out the girl’s story.

I wasn’t 100% sure I wanted to watch this movie.  Randomly violent plotlines, particularly those involving any sort of mafia, aren’t really my thing.  Indeed, the brutally violent and disgusting opening scene (or perhaps it is the second, but it’s right up there at the front) had me looking away and covering my eyes.  I definitely had my doubts.

But I’m glad I stuck in out.  This movie deserved every award it received and every nomination as well.  It surprised me greatly.  Highly recommended.

Interworld apparently started as an idea for a TV show.  A high school kid who has the power to Walk between the various paralell worlds.  It’s actually rather pitch perfect for the TV environment of the mid-90s, when it was conceived.

Alas, it was not meant to be, and Interworld languished in the storage rooms of Neil and Michael until recently, when they decided to make it into a book.

I stumbled upon Interworld quite back accident.  I was trolling around Amazon (or perhaps it was the Ottawa Public Library site) and decided to do a search for my favourite author Neil Gaiman.  I was pretty convinced there would be nothing since his most recent anthology Fragile Things.  I mean, I read his blog almost daily, I would have read if there was anything new, right?

Apparently not, because a few things I had never heard of, let alone read, popped up, of which Interworld and The Eternals went on my library request list.

Interworld is probably well aimed at the 9-12 year old set, maybe a little older.  Certainly not a near 30 year old.  Not that that stopped me from liking it.  It was shades of Ender’s Game (light shades), and there’s something highly appealing about an army of various versions of oneself.  Some parts were a little too easy — Joey’s conversation with his Mom, for one — but in a book of this length and depth an author really doesn’t have time for intricate build-ups.  Plus, 9-12 year olds are much more forgiving about the suspension of disbelief thing.

Interworlds, at its heart, is a nice quick read exploring right and wrong, family and weird things like physics and math.  Oh, and a really fabulously named character — Hue.  That name, in context, made me laugh out loud.

This book was on my request list at the library, but I honestly have no idea why I originally put it there.

Regardless, it was a horrible book. Complete rubbish. There seemed to be no real plot or point, besides the main characters genius status in the area of math, and how this impacts her. Which we never really know, because all we ever read about is her studying, kissing a guy onc, then studying some more. To be fair there’s stuff about being a child of indian immigrants in Wales, but it was hardly compelling.

And the ending. That was the worst part. I’ll reveal it here because no one ever reads this blog, and frankly, anyone who does will likely never read this book.

She runs away to Brighton and, even though they locate her parents, gets put into foster care. Because she’s been abused. Because her parents made her do too much school work and too much math.

ARE YOU SERIOUS?

That has to be the most ridiculous idea ever. Any forgiveness I may have had for the utter blah of the book was driven away by that.

Ugh.

So this weekend I was visiting my family and my nephew Jeremy wanted to see The Spiderwick Chronicles.  This is actually one of the few children’s fantasy series that I haven’t actually read.  For no real reason, besides just not having gotten around to it yet.

But sometimes that’s the best way to see a movie that’s based upon a book.  I could go into it with very few preconceived notions.  It was a really, really good movie, as these things go.  My nephew told me that they had changed things, but it didn’t seem too drastic.  But then, 9 year olds aren’t really that detail oriented.

The visuals of the movie were beautiful; I especially loved the scene with Lucinda and the flower fairies (pixie? sprites? I have no idea.  But they were super cute.).  And Freddie Highmore, who plays Jared and Simon was brilliant.  I had no idea it wasn’t actually two separate boys.  And he hides his accent *really* well.

I enjoyed the movie so much that I went out and ordered the following books:

• The Spiderwick Chronicles – The Complete First Series (all five books)
• The Chronicles of Spiderwick: A Grand Tour of the Enchanted World, Navigated by Thimbletack
• Arthur Spiderwick’s Field Guide to the Fantastical World Around You

The Eternals is a rehash of a marvel comic by Jack Kirby that had its original run in the 70s. The version I just read is a mini-series (7 chapters) done by Gaiman in 2006. I picked this up knowing nothing of the premise, solely because it was by Gaiman, who I love beyond all imaginings.

For a good reason. This was really, really entertaining. X-menesque, with nods to the Fantastic Four. It’s pure comic goodness with the writing of Gaiman behind it. How can it get any better than that?

And it gave me one of my most favourite quotes. For some background, Earth is inhabited by three groups: The Eternals who were created by the alien Celestials, their enemies and counterparts, The Deviants – also created by the Celestials, and Humans, as far as I can tell, a happy accident. Over millennia, The Eternals (who are unkillable, hence the name) have been seen as gods by humans.

Anyway, at one point in the story a human is talking to an Eternal (Zuras). The conversation goes like this:

Human (speaking of fighting going on on Earth): You *have* to choose sides…..
Zuras: If you saw two groups of children arguing over which of them could play in some waste ground, would you choose sides?

It’s a perfectly simple statement from the perspective of god(s) when humans wonder why they don’t interfere. Brilliant!

I came across this cartoon rather randomly – a friend of a friend had brought it into work to watch at lunch. I was told how funny it was and looked it up on Youtube, only to be kind of “meh” about it. But my friend then left me with the DVD for season one, and I have to say, it’s fantastic.

The Venture Brothers is the story of Dean and Hank Venture, their father, Dr. Thaddeus “Rusty” Venture, and their bodyguard Brock Samson (the most awesome character EVER!) as they fight evil doers, aliens, ghosts and…The Monarch. While a cartoon, it is a cartoon for adults. Kids could watch it, but any of the fun stuff and humour would easily fly over their heads.

In fact, much of the humour would fly over the heads of many adults.

It’s incredibly hilarious, and definitely one of my new favourites.

Some examples:

The Monarch: Release the butterflies.

(Mass of dead butterflies fall on Brock)

The Monarch: Okay, whose job was it to feed the butterflies?

************

University Administrator: It is difficult to hold the student’s attention during Dia De Los Muertos.

Dr. Venture: Oh, right. The crazy dead people Christmas you people celebrate. What, is that suppose to be today?

University Administrator: Ah, si.

Dr. Venture: Oh great. Fantastic of you to tell me that before I came all the way down here.

<snip>

University Administrator: Ah, the monarch butterfly. They migrate here to Mexico this time of year. The Aztecs believe they were the spirits of the dead returning home.

Dean: Wow, but your full of helpful information, fella.

Hank: And how! Say, its not poisonous is it?

University Administrator: I… you’re kidding, right? No, it is not poisonous.

<snip>

Dr. Venture (squashing the butterfly): Horrible disease carrying thing.

Dean: But that might have been someone’s spirit, Pop.

Dr. Venture: All the more reason to get it the hell off me.

So I’ve discovered a new guilty pleasure. CBC premiered a new show about 3 weeks ago called The Border. The basic premise of the show is following around a group of “Immigration and Customs Security” employees. The show is focused on all of the decisions and consequences of national/border security.

So, this show is very fun for me to watch, based on working at CBSA. It’s really entertaining to watch a show that is based on your workplace, because you have an insider’s point of view. You know what they get right, what they get wrong, and when – like many times in The Border – things are clearly exaggerated to make them more exciting for TV.

I’ve got to admit that I’m not sure I’d be watching if I didn’t work for CBSA. That’s not a slight against the show, the fact is that TV has completely slipped off my radar in light of the Writer’s Strike. There were fabulous shows that I loved, that I honestly thought I’d be waiting on the edge of my seat for them to return. But it appears I have barely noticed. Heroes and House could be back on the air now and I would have *no* idea. So I doubt I’d be watching The Border if it wasn’t so patently aimed at me. I hope other people are watching though, because it really deserves to keep going. It’s an intelligent show, with good production values (rare for a Canadian show), and it just hits all the right notes.

I seem to be on a kick these days for semi-autobiographical books about difficult childhoods.  Like The Glass Castle, Lullabies is the story of a young girl growing up in less than ideal conditions.  The main character “Baby” (her name screams something indefinable about her parents right off the bat) is growing up with her father in Montreal.  They live a life of constant moves, illness, hunger, and drugs.  Eventually Baby garners the interest of the neighbourhood pimp, Alphonse.  Heather O’Neill does a remarkable job of giving Baby a voice.  She is easy to believe, and you follow her through the ages of 11-13, as she undergoes many changes with no one there to guide her.  Her mother is dead and her father Jules, who is 27 at the beginning of the book, is a heroin user who tries to raise his daughter but doesn’t quite get there.  The character of Baby is one of the best I’ve seen in this genre, and she walks the line between vulnerable and tough with little trouble.  She is particularly believable in her view of things that happen to her as “no big deal”.  A good example is when for the first and only time at age 13 her father hits her and leaves her with a black eye.  Baby, rather than feeling sorry for herself, or scared, thinks about how cool she’ll look at school on Monday.  They black eye gives her “street cred”.  One more experience to add to her list.  Unfortunately, like many children of bad situations, she doesn’t realize that certain things are supposed to make her scared or uncomfortable.  That line has long been erased.  I really enjoyed this book, and finished it in about 3 hours.  It helped to have a sense of Montreal.  It always helps to be able to visualize your environment.  I could totally picture Baby wandering St. Catherine street.

I haven’t read a book this quickly in a very long time.  2.5 hours, cover to cover.  Of course those 2.5 hours had to be the ones between midnight and 2:30 a.m.  I picked up the book from the library yesterday.  I thought to read a bit before bed, since I only had the book for a week (it’s part of the Express Reads collection – copies of highly in demand books that cannot be reserved.  They’re available first come, first served, and you can borrow them for a week.  When you’re # 140 or so on the request list, this can be a godsend).

And of course that “little bit” lead to me finishing the book.

The Glass Castle is Jeanette Walls’ memoirs of her childhood.  Like one generally expects, her experiences and memories are far from common or ideal.  Still, she manages to make you long for something as you read her book.  Perhaps it’s the us-against-the-world flavour that colours her interactions with most of her siblings.  It’s tough to say. 

I was the perfect audience for this book from the first page, where it sucked me in with Jeanette’s story about riding in a cab down a New York City street one night and seeing her homeless mother rummaging through a dumpster.  She ducks; hoping not to be seen, and then is forced to reflect on her mixed feelings of shame and guilt that having a homeless mother invokes.  At one point she recounts a story of a professor asking her opinion on homelessness, and she replies, “sometimes, people get the life they choose.”  Her teacher and classmates look at her like she’s grown horns. 

I could relate to her feelings all too well.  I was gone from the first page.

Overall the book was a poignant read, not overly saccharine or dramatic.  And although there were times I wanted to roll my eyes at the whole “Look what I overcame!” tone, the Glass Castle ultimately felt like a looking glass, and left me feeling just a little bit homesick.

The Thirteenth Tale is a book about books, as well as a book about stories. Diane Setterfield wrote penned this novel about an aging British author (Vida Winters) who has evaded all attempts to find out her background and her past.

Facing death she has invited a young amateur biographer to hear the truth of her life tale. Intrigued, said biographer (Margaret), comes to know Ms. Winters very well, guessing at the secrets in her past.

I read this book relatively quickly, as these things go recently. I took me two half days, made easier by having the large print version. It was also a quick read, in and of itself — not too mired down in its own seriousness, full of just enough intrigue to keep you turning the page.

**Minor Spoilers below **

The resolution of Ms. Winter’s story was relatively surprising on two levels, her own identity, which I did not guess outright until it was stated (though I had certainly caught the foreshadowing and hints) as well as the reality behind Emmeline. That, I never would have guessed at. Indeed I’m not even sure why it was included, as that twist seemed entirely unnecessary.

Indeed there were a few plot twists that seemed unnecessary — Margaret’s twinness, for one. Setterfield, it seems, wanted to mash as many twists and turns into this story as she could. She handles most of it well, even some of the stories that seem unnecessary keep you wanting to know more (see: Aurielius). But there are a lot of intertwining of relationships that are in the book just to have one more twist.

That’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it. On the contrary, I enjoyed it immensely. I was surprised. Part of what drew me in were the descriptions from both Margaret and Vida about books, stories and reading. They felt very real, obviously written by someone who has enjoyed reading immensely.

This particular bit rings the most true for me, and it is when I knew I would forgive the book all its faults based solely on the fact that Setterfield (via Margaret) expressed something I have felt for a long time:

I have read at every stage of my life, and there has never been a time when it was not my greatest joy. And yet I cannot pretend that the reading I have done in my adult years matches in its impact on my soul the reading I did as a child. I still believe in stories. I still forget myself when I am in the middle of a good book. Yet it is not the same. Books are, for me, it must be said, the most important thing; what I cannot forget is that there was a time when they were at once more banal and more essential than that. When I was a child books were everything. And so there is in me, always, a nostalgic yearning for the lost pleasure of books. It is not a yearning one ever expects to be fulfilled.

In the end it feels like The Thirteenth Tale is just a well-written VC Andrews tale — instead of being told in the present it is a long-done history.