Up Till Now, William Shatner's Autobiography (CBR6)

Up till I read his autobiography, I would have said that William Shatner was #1 on my list of coolest dudes on the planet. Now, I realize he is only playing the coolest dude on the planet. There is a saying, "never meet your heroes." I would like to add "cautiously read the autobiography of the dude that you think is the coolest on the planet."

It's not that I won't enjoy Shatner's work in the future, it's just now I realize he's actually... human. And an actor. A very funny, intelligent and interesting actor, but now I can't be sure what is real and what is marketing. His current image - the quirky spoken word poetry, the self-depreciating humor, the goofy talk-show host - all seems a result of realizing that people ...audiences... like that version of him. They give Denny Crane Emmys, so Shatner consciously and deliberately becomes what people want - including a bit of Denny Crane. His current incarnation has been engineered.

He's an actor. Even when he's speaking at a convention as William Shatner. Or accepting an award. Or giving an interview. Or walking through the airport. He's acting.

It must be exhausting.

Up Till Now is a good book. Shatner has been working as an actor for eons and his career spans many phases of interesting culture changes. He started working in TV when it was a new media and his stories of the beginning of the industry provide interesting tidbits of history.

Shatner seems honest. Both about the flops in his career and mistakes in his personal life. He knows there are former co-workers that don't like him and he accepts at least partial culpability in those relationships. The insecurity and envy of actors (including Shatner) reminded me often of 30 Rock - Shatner throwing a fit because photographers were doing a feature on Spock in a shared make-up room without Shatner's permission, or Nimoy not speaking with Shatner - at all - for over a week due to a botched joke.

Shatner (or his co-writer) is a very good story teller and knows just how much to embellish to stay believable and keep readers hanging on every word of his misadventures involving poker tournaments, horse-riding injuries, epic canoe trips, poorly planned paintball wars. His wry humor had me giggling out loud throughout the book. Shatners voice, and his unique speaking style, translate well to paper.

Shatner also seems genuinely fascinated by all aspects of life.

I recognize that I'm getting older. And I do think about my own mortality. And what I now know is that there are so many questions to which I'm never going to know the answer. We are born into mystery and we leave life in mystery. We don't know what transpired before and we don't know what's coming ahead. We don't know what life is. We don't know even the truth behind the assassination of JFK. Is there a God? What is time? There's everything we don't know.

He enjoys learning and trying new things. I doubt the man has ever said "no" to a new opportunity - hence the epic canoe trips and poorly planned paintball wars.

It is a choppy book, though, with some stories sort of crammed in randomly perhaps to make a chapter longer. At times, it feels chaotic and disorienting, and we're reminded that Shatner is an old man. Or trying too hard.

I'm glad I read Up Till Now, even it adds a little bit of skepticism to my enjoyment of Shatner's work in the future. He's still a ridiculously cool dude with the ability to tell a great story.

Yarn Harlot: The Secret Life of a Knitter (CBR 5)

Knitting humor.

Seriously! It is fun stuff. Nearly as fun as blocking your first lace shawl or rolling around naked in your yarn stash.

Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, aka the Yarn Harlot, is a knitter, a mum (she's Canadian), a doula, the inventor of the word "kinnearing" and a super fun writer. I've been reading her blog for a few months and finally picked up one of her books. Yarn Harlot: The Secret Life of a Knitter is described as "a sort of David Sedaris-like take on knitting," but it is really so much better. Yeah, her stories are a mix of fun and touching and mostly involve hilarity at her own expense, but Pearl-McPhee seems more honest and...well she talks about yarn and knitting a lot which I can relate to much easier than say, being a gay guy in France.

Also, to limit the Harlot's writing to a "take on knitting" is too narrow. She isn't a knitter who writes. She is a strong, self-aware, interesting woman who knows how to tell a good story and also spends a lot of time knitting.

In case you didn't know, by the way, knitting is, like REALLY cool right now. There has been a huge resurgence of fun young people learning to knit and Pearl-McPhee has been very much involved. The Secret Life of a Knitter is a collection of tales of her 30-something years as a knitter.

She gets it. She knows why people knit and she tells a good story that knitters can related to...the insanity of finishing knitted gifts hours before Christmas Day, running out of discontinued yarn with half a sleeve left to knit on your first sweater, convincing friends that wool is God's gift to people and really not at all scratchy, and explaining to your spouse why that lost double-pointed needle MUST be found even though it only cost $1 and there are a bazillion more at the store. When Pearl-McPhee described the overwhelming joy in blocking her first lace shawl, I had to put on my first shawl and restrain myself from shouting at the book "I know! Isn't it amazing?!"

The Harlot's best stories evoke honest emotions felt by all people, even if they aren't cool enough to be knitters - like the comforting an ill friend or reveling in the success of a new skill and conquering a challenging project. I loved her description of her nana - "a hard woman to love." She doesn't sugarcoat her childhood but relates honestly that, even though we love our family, sometimes it's darn hard to figure out why or how.

She's also very funny. On her teenage daughter who declared that knitting was "boring" and that she didn't want to do it:

I fear for her future. I really do. If knitting is "boring" then what's it going to take to hold her interest? Hitchhiking? Spearheading a revolution? Dropping acid? (Do kids still drop acid? That's something I should probably find out, now that my very own flesh and blood is talking about not knitting.) It's a slippery slope, I tell you. First you tell your mother that knitting is "boring" and next something horrible has happened, like drug addiction, not folding your laundry, or (God forbid!) declaring wool is "itchy."

Mostly I enjoy Pearl-McPhee because we share the same passion. She gets geeky over the same little things that I love about knitting - heels in socks ("that miracle, the cunning three-dimensional heel"), capturing bits of your life in a project ("I know it looks just like a hat, but really, it's four hours at the hospital, six hours on the bus, two hours alone at four in the morning when I couldn't sleep because I tend to worry"), and the wonder of wool.

The world has come a long way, and astonishing and intriguing machines arrive every day, but there is still not a machine on this earth that will shear a sheep. Every ball of wool starts with some man or woman somewhere in the world...holding fast to a pissed-off sheep while cutting its fleece free. Every ball of wool you and I have ever knit, all the balls of wool in the world in every country in the whole history of the world thus far, came from the sweat and grit of a person wrestling a hot, dirty, furious sheep.

And now that wool is on my (and the Yarn Harlot's) feet. Very cool.

I found my reading mojo

The World Without Us was such a spectacularly awful book that, not only did reading it cause me to contemplate killing lots of people, but it destroyed my desire to read anything - at all - for a month.

So, I did what every American girl does when she's in a rut...I went shopping. I came home with books by three people I know I find entertaining: William Shatner, Julia Child and Stephanie Pearl-McPhee. Don't know the Yarn Harlot? Check out her blog. An honest to goodness book review is coming soon.

Still reading...

Currently reading Sherlock Holmes, which is awesome and The World Without Us, which is not. Expect the review of the latter to contain frequent usage of the word "balls."

Please Understand Me II: Why your family is crazy (CBR4)

Myers-Briggs Type Indicator - MBTI, y'all. It's Jungian.

When the CERN rappers take on personality preferences, I'll totally let them use that to close out. Word to your SJ mother.

Myers-Briggs is the world's most used personality indicator and the basis for any understanding I have of my in-laws. Please Understand Me II by David Keirsey covers practical aspects of the 16 Myers-Briggs types - communication style, decision making, interests, leadership style and tons more. It assumes, presumably because it is a sequel, that you have a basic understanding of MBTI and that you know your own type. I also found it helpful to think of people I know in the various types as I was reading about them. This encouraged revelations such as, "so, that is why my boss is an insane masochist."

The main message of Myers-Briggs, which is reinforced in this book, is that everyone is ok. Your in-laws or that annoying asshole at Starbucks aren't trying to make you crazy. They have logical reasons for driving you nuts that are completely consistent with how they see the world. With a little knowledge and self-awareness you can figure out why that is and see them for the valuable, well-intentioned people that they are.

Whatever.

That is total shenanigans.

Here's what I got out of the book...as an iNtuitive (N) I view/perceive/take-in the world for its deeper meanings - the big picture - as opposed to Sensors (S) who focus on the concrete details which they take at face value. 85 fucking percent of the world are Sensors, which explains why I can't stand talking to people. 85 percent of the time they're boring. And petty. And obvious. And did I mention boring? And they think I'm weird. Which, apparently, according to the numbers, I am.

Keirsey's take on Myers-Briggs is an interesting, and seemingly valid one, though he says it does contradict Myers' (of Myers-Briggs) analysis slightly. He breaks the 16 types into four main groups based on two factors: word usage and tool usage. You can use words in an abstract way (Ns as described above) or concretely (Ss). You can also use tools - and tools refers to nearly everything: roads, houses, clothes, politics - in a cooperative or utilitarian way. Cooperative usage means you consider the morals of the tool you are using based on societal or idealized norms. Utilitarian means you use tools in the most effective way to get the job done, whether or not it is moral.

The four types that result are Idealists (NF), Guardians (SJ), Rationals (NT) and Artisans (SP). The book has convenient stand-alone chapters for each type so you can skip around to read about yourself or your spouse right from the start. Each chapter contains an introduction story of a famous person of that type, a historical retrospective (Rationals were once referred to as "phlegmatics" because they are bland and detached like mucous), and a breakdown of self-image and orientation in the world.

At the end of the chapters, each of the 4 variants within the overarching types is described in detail - priorities, strengths, relationships. The format helps the reader understand what different variants have in common but also emphasizes the subtle unique qualities in the similar groupings. It helps make sense of why an introvert, scheduling (aka anal) idealist (INFJ) would gravitate towards working as a one-on-one counselor, while an extrovert, scheduling idealist (ENFJ) would prefer the group environment as a teacher.

I think the greatest value in understanding Myers-Briggs types is actually to use it as a self-discovery tool. I've always known I was a weirdo, but I was still shocked at realizing things that I thought were universal are actually particular to my type. Apparently, not everyone is burdened with the nagging feeling that they aren't living up to their full potential. The chapter on SPs (my polar opposites) nearly made me cry. Did you know there are people that get total and complete enjoyment out of the actual moment they are living in?!? They feel free to just do whatever makes them happy without any concern about whether they have to go to work tomorrow or if it will piss of their mother. That sounds amazing. And totally undoable for me.

I love Myers-Briggs and this was a great guide to the types. Totally recommended for anyone trying to figure out their families or coworkers or looking for a little more self-understanding.

Free Fall in Crimson: Travis McGee, Comfort Read (CBR3)

I am a self-loathing fiction snob. Cliched characters, bad dialog, unbelievable plots...these things make me crazy and chip away at the limited resolve I have to venture away from non-fiction. I want to love novels. I really, really do. But it doesn't often work. As a result, most of my reading is heavy - non-fiction or classic, proven novels, such as cheery Ethan Frome or Jane Eyre.

But sometimes a girl needs a break! A book for the beach! For this, I am so glad to have found John D. MacDonald and the Travis McGee series. Light, but not too light. Sex, guns and murder written for people with brains. I. Love. It.

Travis McGee describes himself as a "salvage consultant." He works to get back stuff that was taken from people. Typically his clients were fleeced legally and Trav works outside the law to earn retribution. He gets to keep half of whatever he reclaims.

But the plot of these 22 books is the least of the reasons to love them. Though they were written from the 60s to the 80s, the books feel very contemporary (with only the occasional reference to state-of-the-art tape decks). Trav and his best bud Meyer are intelligent, thoughtful, stand-up guys who also happen to live on house boats and be beach bums. Their observations of the world and people are timeless and refreshing. This, from Dress her in Indigo, sums it up nicely:

Old friend, there are people - young and old - that I like, and people that I do not like. The former are always in short supply. I am turned off by humorless fanaticism, whether it's revolutionary mumbo-jumbo by a young one, or loud lessons from the scripture by an old one. We are all comical, touching, slapstick animals, walking on our hind legs, trying to make it a noble journey from womb to tomb, and the people who can't see it all that way bore hell out of me.

There is a plot, however, to Free Fall in Crimson, and I imagine you'd like me to stop humping MacDonald's corpse and get on with it...

There is this dude, Ron, you see, and his very wealthy dad was killed, presumably by a mugger, at a rest stop. The police investigate and determine it was random. Ron isn't so sure and asks Travis to investigate. There were technicalities with the dad's sizable estate that cast suspicion on a few swarthy folks. The trail entangles Travis with biker gangs, the movie industry and a bunch of hot air ballonists. There is a porn ring and a small town mob. The story keeps the book moving quickly and many interesting characters get to play, including Lysa Dean, the sexy, shallow movie star Travis worked for in A Quick Red Fox.

Free Fall in Crimson is a late McGee - written in '81 - and there are only two stories left in the series. It is obvious Trav (and MacDonald) are getting older. The last few books have hinted at Trav's retirement or demise and he is obtaining an unattractive arrogance and detachment to the mayhem he consistently invites.

Throughout the series, however, Travis and Meyer have been consistently lovable and the books have been reliably good. A great, semi-mindless read. I'm nervous that I am coming to their end with 49 books remaining in Cannonball...If you haven't read these books, I'd recommend giving them a go. Lovers of Carl Hiaasen and USA's Burn Notice will find many similarities.

There are always a handful of observations worth dog-earing the pages for in every McGee. I leave you now with my favorite bit from the book - Meyer relating an encounter on the beach:

There was a gaggle of lanky young pubescent lassies on the beach, one of the early invasions of summer, all of them from Dayton, Ohio, all of them earnest, sunburnt and inquisitive. They were huddled around a beached sea slug, decrying its exceptional ugliness, and I took a hand in the discussion, told them its life pattern, defensive equipment, normal habitat, natural enemies, and so on. And I discovered to my great pleasure that this batch was literate! They had read books. Actual books. They had all read Lives of a Cell and are willing to read for the rest of their lives. They had all been exposed to the same teacher in the public school system there, and he must be a fellow of great conviction. In a nation floundering in functional illiteracy, sinking into the pre-chewed pulp of television, it heartens me to know that here and there are little groups of young-uns who know what an original idea tastes like, who know that the written word is the only possible vehicle for transmitting a complex concept from mind to mind, who constantly flex the muscles in their heads and make them stronger.

Death do us Part (CBR book 2)

Crazy how the removal of "until" changes the entire meaning of that little vow. It turns a sweet sentiment into a vengeful, angry act.

Death do us Part is a collection of 19 short stories on "love, lust and murder" - some sweet, some vengeful. The best stories in the book deal with honest, believable emotion and the worst are lazy, unimaginative cliches. Two stories, including Wifey, a version of The Tell-Tale Heart with a dog (by R.L. Stine of Scholastic Goosebumps fame), involved unpredictably insane dudes that I don't want to talk about lest they show up in my dreams with their freakish serial killer creepiness.

Most of the stories, however, revolve around typical fiction folk. All the great wars are covered as you would expect them to be:

• The young slave girl during the Civil War who has a showdown with her Master, an abusive, idiotic hick.
• The devoted World War I home-front wife who is lost without her husband (spoiler...he dies, but she gets a kitten, so it's all better. Seriously. It's a bad story and now you don't have to read it).
  
• The old vet of the Greatest Generation avenging his wife's death by a drunk driver.

Continuing on with the chiches, is an Italian immigrant in NY/NJ - it doesn't matter - who has his wife's lover killed by the mob. Inventive, no? Another story, told in IM transcripts, covers cyber love. And Heat Lightening is the story of a poor young farmer on droughted land with a slowly-dying wife. He takes a class a community college and has an affair with his teacher, falling in love over Vonnegut. Uh...vomit.

There are a few good, unique stories, starting with the first one Queeny by Ridley Pearson. In eight pages the story zips through 875 days in the life of a man whose wife is missing and presumed murdered. The husband narrates the story of the search, trial and eventual conclusion with honest emotion and carefully chosen words. No space is wasted and the story is a treat.

The Masseuse is an engaging story by Tim Wohlforth about an unusual arrangement between a man and his masseuse. Safe Enough by Lee Child is an inoffensive tale of a blue collar city guy and his Whole Foods-loving suburban chick. Their relationship starts with intrigue and contentment but quickly sours when they can't overcome their differences. She finds him to be boring: "He didn't know anything. And his family was a pack of wild animals." He can no longer tolerate her snobbish nature: "So smug, so superior. She didn't like baseball. And she said that even if she did she wouldn't root for the Yankees. They just bought everything. Like she didn't?" Murder and mayhem commence.

A Few Small Repairs by Jeff Abbott is my favorite story in the book. Frank is a former drug addict whose father has lung cancer. As they work to repair their relationship in a hospital with "the reek of the old man dying," Daddy asks Frank for a radical favor. The compelling 16 page story revolves around Frank's decision related to Daddy's request. Frank is a well-considered character which quite a bit of self-awareness, which makes this man vs. himself tale a good read.

Outside of these three stories, however, there is a lot of fluff. It is interesting to see how 19 different writers take the same assignment and end up with entirely different products, but, as with most things, the result is lots of crap with just a few gems.