Did anyone else besides me think longingly of jetting to England last year to see Dr. Who’s David Tennant as Hamlet? Well, no need for regrets. PBS will be showing Tennant’s Hamlet as part of Great Performances in 2010. I am thrilled.
This month’s selection for my book group is The Ayatollah Begs to Differ by Hooman Majd. It was the pick of one member who is married to a Persian. I look forward to our discussion with her added insights about Iran.
When I look back now, both in my childhood and even as a young adult, I couldn’t have imagined my country as anything more than a second-rate Third World nation subservient to Western powers….Despite the negative connotations of a perceptibly hostile Iran, Iranians of a certain age can be forgiven for feeling a tinge of pride in their nation’s rapid ascent to a position of being taken seriously by the world’s greatest superpower and all in just a little over a quarter of a century. One might argue whether Iran and Iranians would have be better off without the Islamic Revolution of 1979. But it is indisputable that had it not happened, Iran today would likely not have much of a say in global affairs.
Rightly or wrongly, the revolution and the path the nation took after its success have led to Iran’s prominence and repute (2-3)
Majd uses Iranian myths, tales and phrases to structure his presentation of modern-day Iran and the many paradoxes of its people. Majd grew up in the West, and his in-between status as someone familiar with both cultures helps him explain things like the Iranian practice of ta-arouf, or extreme politeness, without belittling those he’s describing. His biggest challenge, though, and the focus of the book, is to illuminate why Ahmadinejad was overwhelmingly elected President by the popular vote in 2005. As Majd is careful to note, many liberal and wealthy Iranians think freedom means women can go without the veil, while for many Iranians, freedom means a full belly, and the ability to live.
This is a timely book that examines Ahmadinejad’s 2005 election just as his one this year has caused such uproar. The book was tremendously helpful in breaking down many of the media’s reductive portrayals (such as Ahmadinejad as villain) and showing how complex and intriguing the realities are.
Jhumpa Lahiri recently discovered something I’ve suspected for a while:
And that was my revelation this June: one needs only a cast-iron skillet to survive.
When I muse on what I’d pack if the apocalypse strikes (I’m not the only one who does this, right?), the cast-iron skillet is near the top of the list. (Link from The Morning News)
Readers, and please de-lurk if you’re lurking, do you like the posts on food? I’ve been posting the food on my Facebook page, then again here since it’s such a big part of our summer. But the links and images are work-intensive, so I can skip it if interest is low. Also, I can make photos bigger, so more detailed, though I’ve not done so because they’d take more time to load on screens.
I did not make those. They’re by Sheela from Miel y Leche and came from Mitrebox, on a cupcake Saturday. That’s a blackberry-lime vegan cake and a s’mores cake. The former was good, the latter was tremendous. You can sign up to receive email for the weekly flavors. This week’s are Grilled Peach Mint, Chocolate Curry with Lemongrass Coconut Buttercream and Limoncello.
These bacon-cheese cups were a request by 5yo Drake, who along with 3yo Guppy made them with G. Grod while I went to yoga class. They’re from the Southern Living Kids Cookbook, a gift from the boys’ uncle, and Drake’s current obsession.
Red salad, with WI cherry tomatoes, strawberries, basil, balsamic vinegar, olive oil and WI parmesan. Salad #13 from Mark Bittman’s 101 Salads.
Homely, but tasty and exceptionally healthy and hearty. From Mark Bittman, a savory breakfast: Barley, coconut, oat bran and fried tofu, with soy sauce, toasted sesame oil and fish sauce, topped with a fried egg.
For National Night Out last night, I made a Carrot Cake (lots of carrots to use up this week). The recipe is from Cook’s Illustrated. I added a teaspoon of cardamom, to good effect, I thought.
And I used up almost all of last week’s CSA veg in a variation on Heather’s Quinoa Salad from 101 Cookbooks. I used pearled barley instead of quinoa, added grated carrot and used chopped zucchini instead of corn.
Aside from Season 2 of Breaking Bad, which feels like it ended ages ago, I haven’t watched much new TV this summer. I really wanted to like Bravo’s Fashion Show, and I tried; I really did. Top Chef Masters has been pretty good, though not quite as diverting as the original recipe. Three things stood out, to me though: Torchwood, Dr. Who and Better Off Ted.
In lieu of Torchwood Season 3, creator Russell T. Davies did a five-night miniseries for the BBC called “Children of Earth”. The series up to this point was often entertaining, but wildly uneven. The miniseries took the team, left in shambles at the end of Season 2, and roughed them up a bit more.
An alien race uses Earth’s children as speakers, and wants to take a lot of them away. Though Davies says otherwise, the production value on the mini felt top notch. The drama was riveting, and most of the acting, particularly by the actor who played John Frobisher, was great. By the end, when things get very tense, I sat on my couch with a lump in the pit of my stomach, eyes wide and waiting, hoping for a redemptive ending.
That said, it was perhaps too dark. Part of Torchwood’s charm, when it works, is its goofy, raunchy sense of humor. There wasn’t enough of that here. Along that line, John Barrowman, who plays Torchwood leader Capt. Jack Harkness, does better, IMO, as the grinning, swashbuckling hero than when he tries to emote. He made a couple tough decisions in the last episode, and I think either alone might have made it harder for me to like him as the lead. Both together were pretty damning. I’ll be interested to see what Torchwood looks like when it returns, but I do think the miniseries is the way to go.
The Doctor Who movies, “The Next Doctor” and “Planet of the Dead” did a much better job of maintaining the character’s and series’ wacky sense of humor but also dealing with dark, sad or scary things. David Tennant’s Doctor acknowledged the losses in his past, but didn’t go out of character in reaction to them. “The Next Doctor” was shown in the UK at Christmas time, and was really good, not only in comparison to last year’s Titanic-themed, Kylie Minogue-starring mess. “Planet of the Dead” was suspenseful and entertaining, with some sweet and funny and sad thrown in for balance.
For funny, though, I’m glad that ABC ran its additional episodes of Better Off Ted. The main character is good, but it’s the kooky characters orbiting him and how he’s affected by them that really brings the funny. I’m thrilled ABC renewed this, and it will join 30 Rock, How I Met Your Mother and The Office in my upcoming comedy lineup, to break up the bleakness of shows like Torchwood and the upcoming season 3 of Mad Men.
From this week’s kitchen.
Salad #7 from Mark Bittman’s Minimalist article 101 Simple Salads for the Season
1 lb. carrots, peeled then shredded
2 Tbl. EVOO
1/2 Tbl. lemon juice
1 pint fresh blueberries, rinsed and sorted
1/4 c. toasted pepitas (I had these in the pantry so used them instead of sunflower seeds)
Salad #14 A Moroccan Thing (at left below, next to the finished Shredded Green Beans, recipe after next)
1 lb. carrots, peeled and shredded
2 Tbl. EVOO
1/2 Tbl. lemon juice
1/4 tsp. cumin
1/4 c. golden raisins
Mix olive oil, lemon juice and stir in cumin. Add raisins to carrots, pour dressing and toss.
From Heidi Swanson’s Super Natural Cooking
Shredded Green Beans
3/4 lb. green and/or yellow beans, tops and tails trimmed
2 Tbl. EVOO or clarified butter
2 Tbl. water
grated zest of 1 lemon
grated zest of 1 lime
1/4 c. chopped fresh chives
fine-grain sea salt and freshly ground black pepper
Slice beans on a diagonal into roughly 1/8″ pieces. Heat olive oil in large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the beans and stir until coated with oil, then add the water. Cover and cook 2 or 3 minutes, until the beans are brightly colored and tender; give the pan a good shake midway through to ensure even cooking. Remove from the heat and stir in the zests and half of the chives. Season to taste with salt and pepper and serve garnished with the remaining chives.
I had chard stems left after I used the leaves in a soup. I had shredded raw beets after I used some in Bittman’s Salad #43 from 101 Salads. I combined these in Bittman’s More-Vegetable-Than-Egg Frittata, which was delicious, though less lovely than the chopped chard stems, thus no picture.
All the above veg are from our CSA share from Foxtail Farm. I bought some local fruit from our grocery cooperative, Eastside Food Coop and did a loose variation on Mark Bittman’s Patchwork Foolproof Pie with pluots and raspberries.
It was a stunningly red and bubbled fiercely when I took it out of the oven. I served it with Sonny’s Pure Vanilla Bean ice cream.
While I was making the latter, G. Grod and the boys were in the backyard, watering. 5yo Drake was taking his turn with the hose when I said it was time to come in for dessert. Drake didn’t listen when G. repeated this, and turned the hose on G and the house. We told him he couldn’t have dessert. He expressed his displeasure with a lengthy tantrum, and by making an “I am Stupid” sign he taped to G’s back. (With G’s knowledge. Drake isn’t all that subtle.)
I’m nearly halfway through David Foster Wallace’s Infinite Jest, which I’m reading along with the crowd at Infinite Summer. Along with some incisive commentary, there’s a lot of griping, which I find interesting.
One of the sites “guides”, Avery, recently wrote that she was not enjoying the book:
I resent that I’m having to work this hard, that I feel like I’m indulging the author. I resent having to read enormous blocks of text, with no paragraph breaks, for pages and pages at a time. I resent the endnotes that (more often than not) only serve to either waste my time or confuse me even further. I resent that I’m continually reaching supposed milestones (”just make it to page 100!” “get to 200!” “300 is where you get rewarded for all your effort!”) that don’t actually represent any appreciable change in tone, style or plot.
I feel like my time is being wasted with an overabundance of technical explanations of subjects – tennis, drugs – that are largely irrelevant. DFW is explaining the wrong stuff.
Many commenters suggested she put it down, but she said she’d continue, if only because she’d agreed to as one of the site’s guide. For clarification, Avery was invited as a guide to represent younger, i.e. twenty-something readers. Her opinion is not atypical; many commenters voice some of the same complaints: the text is long, uninteresting, deliberately irritating, rambling, unfocused.
These comments usually are met with other readers, often those who have read the book before, telling them to Hang In and Keep Coming Back, advice that’s echoed from the text’s AA segments. There are frequent exhortations to trust the author and assurances that he had a plan, and many of the disparate themes will come together. Even so, it’s easy to see where the criticisms are coming from. The text is a challenging one. For example:
Last spring’s airless and B-redolent section of Thode’s psycho-political offering ‘The Toothless Predator: Breast-Feeding as Sexual Assault,’ had been one of the most disorientingly fascinating experiences of Ted Schacht’s intellectual life so far, outside of the dentist’s chair, whereas this fall’s focus on pathologic double-bind-type quandaries was turning out to be not quite as compelling, but weirdly–almost intuitively–easy. (307)
I’m reminded of when I taught first-year composition a few years ago. The course was structured around non-fiction essays and one book, The Autobiography of Frederick Douglass. Some of my classes were for “remedial” students, though a more PC term was used. Many of theses students spoke English as a second language, and most were the first of their families to attend university. Some of them boasted they’d never read an entire book. The course progressed, and the students struggled with the assigned essays and reading. A frequent theme in their papers was complaint–they didn’t like the author, they didn’t think the author did a good job.
On one hand, this was a good thing. They were actually reading it, engaging with it, and forming their own opinions. Further, they were voicing a contrary opinion, something I could see took courage for many of them. Dissent was often discouraged in their secondary schools, they told me.
On the other hand, their criticism was not supported by their experience as readers. They were not experienced readers, and while that didn’t make their emotional reaction to the texts less true, it did fail to support a reasoned, academic analysis of them. They contended that because they didn’t like an essay, or because they didn’t understand it, that it wasn’t well-written. It was my job to try to bring them beyond an emotional reaction to the text to a critical one. That I sometimes succeeded was tremendously rewarding, for both me and the student, I believe.
And but so, I see a strong similarity between my former first-year students and those who are struggling with and rejecting Infinite Jest. It’s a challenging, at times deliberately provoking text. It’s also extremely smart, funny, and the further I read in it, the more intricate, layered and connected it becomes. My husband and I are reading together; we’ll frequently share connections we find to some other, at the time seemingly throwaway, bits earlier in the book. These ties bespeak planning; the careful layering of information withheld then shared bespeaks great care and precision. I’ve been puzzled by some readers’ claims of carelessness and inaccuracy.
For example, there was a discussion about a character described as weighing 200kg. Many commenters criticized this for impossibility, or criticized the author for sloppy writing. Few noted that it was a good deployment of hyperbole. Fewer, if any noted that this exaggerated figured appeared multiple times later, drawing connection through the text.
I’m enjoying the puzzle nature of the book, but I can understand why it’s postmodern puzzley-ness alienates and even offends some readers. I wish, though, that some didn’t take their dislike as equal to IJ not being a good book. Liking a book is not an index of its quality. Ditto for “getting it”. For example, a lot of DFW’s math commentary flies over my head. I don’t, though, claim he’s inaccurate or untalented to include it. I go with it. I Hang In. I Keep Coming Back. And for that, this book rewards me.