Recently Read

Call of the Cats
by Andrew Bloomfield

There are two possible takeaways from reading Andrew Bloomfield's Call of the Cats: What I learned about Life and Love from a Feral Colony.

One is that Bloomfield is an uncommonly dedicated animal lover, one who devoted a huge part of his life to taking care of a group of backyard cats for little more than the intangible rewards of good deeds done (and maybe, perhaps, a decent writing contract).

The other potential takeaway is that Bloomfield confirms many observers' perceptions of cat people as weird, off-center, and perhaps more than a little crazy.

Andrew Bloomfield's Call of the Cats

The latter notion comes through to the reader less by way of the author's interaction with the cats in his neighborhood's large feral colony and more through what Bloomfield reveals about himself in the process of telling his story. In various diversions, Bloomfield discusses his time in Nepal, his on-again, off-again work as an astrologer, his spectacularly unsuccessful career as a day trader, his time as a dealer in rare Asian artworks...in short, Bloomfield relates the story of a peripatetic working life in which he apparently did everything except hold a normal job. The implication--no normal job because he's no normal person--seems clear, and certainly reinforces the notion that someone who would dedicate himself so vigorously to taking care of a group of cats--who often feel substantially less care for him--is probably a bit of a misfit, at least as far as the general rules of society go.

Nothing particularly revealing there. Those of us who love cats, in general, would have no problem with characterizing ourselves as misfits. In this world, dog owners are clearly deemed to be the normal people; they fit in, and one could even say they come across as quite satisfied with themselves. No such comfort exists for cat lovers, particularly those who really love cats. Bloomfield, apparently, qualifies on all counts there.

If you can get past the author's eccentricity, you do get an interesting and informative portrait of just how difficult it can be to handle--literally and figuratively--a colony of feral cats. The stories range from heartening--tales of this or that cat's recovery from a seemingly fatal illness--to heartbreaking--the devastation wreaked upon the colony, and particularly its kitten population, by the local predator population (coyotes, raccoons, opossums). It ain't easy living out there in the spaces in between, and it can be a harrowing experience if you're trying to help the cats who have settled into those spaces. That message shines through in Bloomfield's writing, at least as strongly as the characterization of the author himself does.

If there's any problem with Call of the Cats, it's mostly from a sense that the tale told in the book is comprised of many disjointed segments; a sense of flowing narrative rarely comes out of these pages. (Bloomfield's personal diversions do as much harm to that sense of flow as they do to his chance of being perceived as normal.) Also, the cast of feline characters grows too large at certain points for the casual, not-entirely-attentive reader to keep straight. The reader winds up feeling muddled in more than one stretch of the book's length.

But it's hard for a cat lover to make too negative an assessment of a book like this, and for an author who clearly exposes a deep and abiding love for the subjects of his literary inspiration. Those of us who deem ourselves to be true feline friends will find more than enough pleasure from Call of the Cats. And even the dog people among us, if they're feeling charitable towards their eccentric neighbors--and can get past feeling so satisfied with themselves--might get a bit of joy out of this very cat-centric book, too. It's certainly worth picking it up and giving it a try.

Reel Reviews

The Imitation Game -- Much of what you see here is actually very standard, boilerplate "outsider" drama, set in the equally standard venue of a World War II movie. The loser who ultimately wins, the challenge to authority, the competition won--it's all there, as it is in a hundred other films. So why is this movie different? Different enough to be really, really good? Two things. One, the true story goes beyond the win to show the outsider ultimately losing (though with a winning legacy); and two (and this is the thing that really makes the movie worth watching), the expert execution of the presentation, particularly in the job the actors do in inhabiting their roles. Special performances by the leads (and, for that matter, the supporting cast) elevate this pic from the standard to a truly special viewing experience.

Reel Reviews

Wild -- Talk about a tough row to hoe. Or is it a tough road to ho? You can go either way with this flick. That’s not the only question raised by this film. For instance: why exactly does hiking the PCT redeem you when you’ve sunk so low? Maybe, if the whole thing really was life-changing and all that...but there’s enough evidence in this story to make the case that Cheryl Strayed--at least as portrayed in the movie--didn’t exactly go through a St. Augustine-style conversion after all was said and done. At least the visuals are appealing. Ultimate judgement: not a bad movie, but maybe not as impressive as the filmmakers (and critics) thought it was.

Reel Reviews

Against The Sun -- This film reveals a fascinating phenomenon: just about any story becomes more compelling when it takes place during World War II. Any movie featuring that time and place automatically gets a boost--even now, 70 years later. As it turns out, this tale needs little extra help to come across as compelling. The story of three Navy airmen who ditched in the South Pacific and survived a thousand mile trip in a life raft has compelling written all over it. Like the recent and similar--but, importantly, fictional--All is Lost, this movie presents its simple premise and provides a riveting story without a lot of bells and whistles to heighten the drama, because it hardly needs any such ornamentation. This really is a find, and is simply put a tremendous movie to watch. Don't miss it.

Recently Read

The Good, the Bad, and the Furry
by Tom Cox

There's a downside to being cat crazy. Actually, there are a lot of downsides to being any kind of crazy; but right now I'm just focused on the cat crazy part. A downside of being cat crazy is that you can't just pass by anything cat related, even when you just happen to spot that something out of the corner of your eye. Sometimes that impulse can lead you seriously astray.

Case in point: The Good, the Bad, and the Furry by English author Tom Cox. I just happened to spot this book on the New Releases shelf at my local library, and felt compelled to grab it and take it home with me. That result probably owes a lot to the picture on the cover, which shows Cox's cat The Bear soulfully staring out at all who pass by, just begging cat crazy people like yours truly to pick up the book and take it home to read--a process not unlike adoptions at the local Petco.

Reel Reviews

Selma -- An impressive presentation, outstanding performances, and strong, nuanced storytelling make this an exceptional piece of historical movie-making. A most notable feature is the multi-faceted portraits of each of the participants in the narrative; there's some hagiography here, but it is tempered with an honest representation of real characters, faults and all, that adds human dimensions to what otherwise might have been, in less capable hands, a flat, uninteresting work of something near propaganda. Instead we are treated to an effective and ultimately moving history, one that deserves to be viewed on many merits, and which couldn't be more relevant even today, 50 years later.

Reel Reviews

Foxcatcher -- The moral of this story: strange, damaged people should not get together with other strange damaged people. The odd thing that comes through while watching this odd movie is how unnecessary the story--and its tragic ending--were. John duPont could just as easily have stood in Mark Schultz's corner as the wrestling team's sponsor; it's what a lot of rich guys do. But that damage--the need to be his "coach" beyond all self-awareness--led to inevitable conflict and breakdown, and makes this a highlight reel that no Olympian would ever want to be in. The story is clearly told, and the actors do a fine job of conveying the sense of the people--not sure how closely they capture the nature of the people they're playing--but the film loses points for its measured pace, and for being so weird and challenging to the viewer; lots of moviegoers simply would not have the patience for this one. It's worth a look, but a lot of folks simply won't like it. Your mileage may vary.

Recently Read

Stars and Strikes: Baseball and America in the Bicentennial Summer of ’76
by Dan Epstein

My earliest memories of baseball involve the Philadelphia Phillies and their division championship season of 1976. No surprise, then, that I would want to pick up Dan Epstein’s Stars and Strikes, which is nothing less than a history of that very season and of the cultural currents then having their impact in the USA during the nation’s 200th birthday celebration.

Epstein comprehensively tells the story of the 1976 baseball season: its preliminary moments before the season began, when the writing went up on the wall and told everyone who could read that free agency was imminent, and that baseball would never be the same; the month to month storyline of the actual season, which featured a repeat champion in the Cincinnati Reds but also a changing of the guard, in that former powers like the Oakland A’s, Pittsburgh Pirates, and Boston Red Sox saw their shine start to fade; and the aftermath once the World Series ended, when the big money started to flow and it was demonstrated that free agency mostly meant that the owners would have to be saved from themselves (which still hasn't happened in any meaningful way).

Stars and Strikes
by Dan Epstein

In covering the nuts and bolts of the baseball season, author Epstein presents the reader with workmanlike prose; his accounts of games, series, and streaks read so much like newspaper beat writer accounts that one wonders whether or not the author wrote that way according to a specific stylistic decision. (Epstein’s jacket flap bio indicates no stints as a beat writer, so it’s hard to say whether he comes to the style naturally or not.) Though these writings may come across as formulaic, Epstein nevertheless delivers mostly entertaining accounts of the events of the season, particularly in charting the meteoric rise (and eventual fall) of Detroit Tigers phenom Mark “The Bird” Fidrych, as well as the earliest rumblings of the volcano that would eventually explode from the Billy Martin-George Steinbrenner pairing as New York Yankees manger and owner. (If nothing else, Epstein does baseball fans the service of un-rehabilitating Steinbrenner and reminding everyone of just what a colossal asshole that man was.)

Along the way, Epstein also recounts the cultural phenomena that made up the contemporary scene in that oddest of celebratory years. Music in particular gets prominent display in the cultural history; Epstein quotes period hit songs as his chapter titles, with each chapter including some notes about the year's musical trends, from the mellow AM gold of the Starland Vocal Band, WAR, and England Dan and John Ford Coley, to the emergence of the soon-to-be scene-changing genres, disco and punk rock. Other hot topics, such as Legionnaire’s Disease, Bicentennial festivities, killer bees, racial tensions over busing, and (naturally, in a baseball book) The Bad News Bears, get their share of remembrance as Epstein brings what is now a wildly alien time temporarily back to life. Those of us who can (barely) remember those days can attest that, yes, life in 1976 really was that weird, and Epstein does the younger generation a service by documenting that fact.

Nostalgia may be less than ideal—the word has actually been used to describe what once was considered a disease—but the occasional indulgence can be harmless and fun, especially when the subject is the history-bound sport of baseball. Though it occasionally falls into rote recitation of the year's events, and it never reaches the literary heights achieved by the exemplars of the "one baseball season" genre (a la Halberstam or Angell), Stars and Strikes stands as one of the better entries in this now well-established genre. Fans of the sport, or even just those with an interest in cultural history, will do well to pick up a copy of Epstein’s work and take a groovy trip back to a time long gone--at least for a few hundred pages.

Recently Read

THINspired
by Mara Schaiavocampo

For some time now, I've had aspirations of writing a book about weight loss, using my own experiences going from weighing 340 pounds to today's 275 as grist for that mill. In particular, my ideas about weight loss--admittedly a straightforward process, when it's boiled down--took their form in an equation--The Equation, as it were--that helps distill my wisdom into a useful thought model that, I believe, can help those like me lose weight and live healthier (if not fully healthy) lives.

Of course, since weight loss is such a well-trodden path when it comes to publishing, I have not just compiled notes for my prospective work, but surveyed the field of weight loss books, to see if any other interested parties had the same thoughts I did.

In scanning the shelves, I came across only one book that seemed to display inspiration similar to my own. THINspired by Mara Schiavocampo is another individual's self-discovered program for losing weight. It even features an equation--or, as Ms. Schiavocampo puts it, her "Magic Formula"--as a framework for the author's weight loss program. Given these facts, I decided to read THINspired and see if all my plans and notes were for naught. Had I been beaten to the punch? Had I been scooped on the concept of an equation (by that or any other name), which would render my own plans to reveal a new weight loss thought model redundant and pointless?

Alas, though Schiavocampo contributes a few worthy ideas to the endeavor, she gets a lot of her equation--in my own humble but experienced opinion--wrong.

On the plus side, Schiavocampo is to be credited for devoting a large portion of her text to one of the under-recognized aspects of weight loss: the need for adequate sleep. Indeed, I place so much emphasis on sleep that I make it the first part of my own Equation. Unfortunately, while Schiavocampo had the sense to recognize sleep for the crucial element that it is, she still only deems sleep to be 10% of the program. Hardly any books on weight loss mention sleep; to identify so important a cog in the weight loss machine, and then to undersell it by deeming sleep to be only one tenth of the issue, undermines the force of her argument.

A lot of the rest of Schiavocampo's presentation consists of what one might call boilerplate weight loss advice. There's nothing particularly wrong with that; any book about weight loss must cover the fundamentals of "eat less, exercise more," since those basics are necessary to any successful weight loss effort. But some of her advice is problematic. She encourages readers to exercise by the mantra "train hard or go home"--advice that will rarely work for truly overweight individuals, who are often prone to injury by way of overexercising. Worse still, in lecturing her readers about the fundamentals, Schiavocampo reveals an outlook that, far from being encompassing and general, actually comes across as particular, idiosyncratic, and individual. In other words, one doubts that few overweight people could actually be successful following the author's lead.

Why? Because a great deal of what Schiavocampo preaches as the proper lifestyle for successful weight loss follows from her position as a person of means and opportunity. For instance, despite protestations about being on a budget and not being overly wealthy, Schiavocampo gushes about her exercise routine, including workouts and classes at what are apparently very trendy (and undoubtedly expensive) New York City fitness clubs. That feeling is reinforced by her name-checking her trainer friends, as if the average reader is supposed to know of these people already. (Namedropping is a relentless feature of THINspired; even those Schiavocampo identifies in the narrative as her personal friends get the first and last name treatment, so you know that she is hobnobbing with people who are Important.) This may be the norm when you are a television personality (Schiavocampo has worked as a reporter for ABC News, specifically Good Morning America, according to her jacket bio), but it doesn't reinforce her credibility with readers who wish to find legitimate advice on losing weight.

And, unfortunately, Schiavocampo's credibility is all too easy to question. As noted, she has a career in TV, and worked that job before she stumbled upon her "Magic Formula" for weight loss. How much weight did she need to lose? It is impossible from the text to accurately judge that. Fatties, as we know, rarely get hired to be television personalities. Schiavocampo puts her total weight loss at 90 pounds, which is an impressive figure without a doubt, and she relates stories from childhood where being overweight played a big role in her development. Yet, all we ever get from the author, in terms of hard numbers, is that figure of 90 pounds. At no point in the text does Schiavocampo give an actual scale reading for herself; the reader never knows just how much this woman actually ever weighed. (A quick web search reveals early, pre-weight loss pictures of the author, showing a woman who was indeed overweight, though not to this viewers eyes truly obese.)

Schiavocampo does, at one point, relate that she gained 40 pounds during pregnancy; so then the ninety pound total is boosted by the extra forty lumped on by having a baby? Was her real weight loss 90 pounds, or 50 pounds if you count from her pre-pregnancy, "normal" weight? In another passage Schiavocampo labels herself as having been a "size 14"; given the madness that is women's clothing sizes, readers could be forgiven for having no idea what that actually means in terms of shape and health. (Per Schiavocampo, size 14 is "the size of the average woman today.") The average woman may find something meaningful in those terms, but whether this discourse will actually be useful for those who need to drop the pounds is another matter.

So it goes for what the average woman might get out of THINspired; others, particularly men, would read this book and find a lecture that says little to them, or even speaks in a language that they can understand. Clearly, Schiavocampo wrote her book for a niche market of women like herself. Unfortunately, the reason we have such a wide open market for books on weight loss is specifically because the problem of overweight is so widespread and general; the niche approach, as represented by THINspired, paints the problem in terms too specific to ever be useful to more than a few individuals.

Schiavocampo should be commended for making the effort of trying to cast the basics of weight loss in a form that some (or even a few) will understand better than what they've heard before. If you are of a certain type, the ideas in THINspired just might click with you and help you get down the road towards a healthier you. But as likely as not, this one of Ms. Schiavocampo's reports may simply come across to you as dead air.

Recently Read

I Don't Care if We Never Get Back
by Ben Blatt & Eric Brewster

What is it about baseball that makes even its most partisan supporters feel the need to trash the game? To readers who delve into I Don't Care if We Never Get Back, that may not seem like a pertinent question. Since the book is a travelogue relating the ups and downs of two friends on a 30 games in 30 days road trip, and most of the downs are related to things that happen beyond the ballpark, you could be forgiven for believing that this book does little to besmirch the game of baseball. But it's not as simple as that.

Clearly, for no other sport would such a trip be possible; only baseball plays its games on such an abundant schedule that a game a day for a whole month would even be plausible. And no other sport would inspire one of its fans--note: one fan, despite the book's two authors; more on that below--to even contemplate such a trip, including going to the trouble of developing an algorithm that would provide--in theory--the most efficient driving route to get one's self all the way across the country and back for all those games, in minimal time. Only a baseball fanatic would go to such trouble, and thus the game itself comes under some scrutiny when the concept goes a little sour.

I Don't Care if We Never Get Back
by Ben Blatt and Eric Brewster

And sour it goes, on more than one occasion. Co-authors Blatt and Brewster find themselves in trouble all over the place: torrential storms that threaten their tightly woven schedule (not to mention their lives on the roads); ticketing troubles, including an unfortunate scalping incident; utter exhaustion due to lack of sleep, and its consequences; and a friendship strained to the limit by one participant's lack of enthusiasm for baseball.

It's that last item that hangs over the narrative right from the start, making the reader wonder why in the hell Brewster, who doesn't care much for the game, would agree to accompany the baseball and statistics mad Blatt on such a trip in the first place. It's out of friendship, of course, and that acknowledgement comes in due time, but the damage to the reader's enjoyment of the story is done long before Blatt and Brewser--in their prose, at least--come to terms with their fraternal feelings for each other. The authors play up the conflict for comedic effect, but for most readers the laughs are few and far between; the most likely impression the reader will get from these chapters is the sense that these guys are not very pleasant to be around. Why then would one want to waste time reading a book about them?

Other problems abound here, the major one being the choice to write the book in both second person and third person voices. The more illiterate among us probably wouldn't even notice, but if you understand composition at all, you're not likely to enjoy a narrative that bounces back and forth between "We did this..." and "Eric said this..." or "Ben checked that..." Perhaps it should have been a warning that the need to share author billing--and thus torment the voice of the narrative--would make for a less than successful book (and, for that matter, road trip).

Some further issues, mostly mechanical problems, take some steam out of this work as well. At one point, during a discourse on the worshipful attitudes fans take towards their favorite ballplayers, the authors offer this nugget:

In World War II, the United States government name a 422-foot ship the SS Christy Mathewson [sic] after the legendary Giants pitcher. The military, which surely should have no shortage of its own heroes to draw from on the battlefield or in the halls of Congress, chose to honor a man who threw a ball a shorter distance than a soldier could throw a grenade.

Um, no. That ship was named after Christy Mathewson, who, in addition to a Hall of Fame pitching career, served during WWI and thus suffered exposure to poison gas (during a training exercise) that left his lungs permanently damaged and susceptible to tuberculosis--a condition that ended his days on the mound. That story is well-known among baseball fans; how did the baseball-obsessed Blatt not know it, or not care enough to avoid besmirching the memory of one of the game's legends? Beyond that major gaffe, other instances of careless writing pop up: the sentence that begins "It's difficult to appropriate the exact moment..." (presumably, 'appropriate' should be 'approximate'); the chapter headings where the home of the Reds is spelled 'Cincinatti'; and the chapters where accounts of certain games get short shrift. Again and again, Blatt and Brewster come up short as proofreaders, at the least, if not as prose stylists.

There are a few redeeming notes here and there. The boys' rumination, in the course of a game in Baltimore, on the nature of "The Star Spangled Banner"--the national anthem as question, not statement, at least in its usually performed verses--is insightful and thought-provoking, even if the authors step on their own premise a few paragraphs later. And, as noted above, when Blatt and Brewster do finally acknowledge the depth of their friendship and what it means to them, they are redeemed (somewhat) in the reader's eyes.

Unfortunately, that redemption comes too late in the game to affect the outcome. I Don't Care if We Never Get Back has to go down as a loss for the authors and their readers. As with baseball itself, having a little respect for the game going into it is a big help; otherwise, the game is famous for humbling its participants. Blatt and Brewster should have learned that lesson on their trip, and if not then, then certainly by the time their book was published.

Reel Reviews

Million Dollar Arm -- Damn, those Disney people sure know how to make a movie. There's absolutely nothing surprising about this flick; everything is utterly predictable, you can see every twist and turn coming a mile away. And yet it's still an enjoyable, entertaining film to watch. Twenty years ago I would have cynically dismissed a movie like this, and that may be your reaction to this one; but having lived a little and come to recognize the value of sweet, simple, charming entertainment, I can see a work like this for what it is: perhaps not something impressive, but still worthy of our attention, and worth rooting for. Also, it's nice to be reminded that people in other countries love their children, too; we don't get enough of that here in the U.S. Bottom line: no home run, but a solid single up the middle.

Reel Reviews

The Monuments Men -- Noble ideas should always be winners. Sadly, they often are not, though the ones that aren't are not necessarily losers; sometimes they just fight life to a draw. So it is here with George Clooney's remembrance of a group of non-soldiers who suited up and went into a war not to save a country or each other, but the very culture of the Western world. The unevenness of the film probably reflects the difficulty in capturing this story in a dramatic setting; parts of the film are entertaining and involving, while others seem disjointed and not particularly well fit with the rest of the film. (If a movie had been made strictly about the recovery of the Madonna and Child statue--a major plotline here--one suspects it would have been a tighter, more watchable film.) As it is, this flick stands as a good effort, and its noble idea--that the treasures of our culture were worth saving when monsters wanted to destroy them--surely deserves at least this much attention.

Reel Reviews

Philomena -- Wow, and I thought I hated nuns before seeing this movie. You might feel the same way after watching this tragic tale, which is disheartening but not so heavy that it can't walk the thin line between too much truth and entertainment. Steve Coogan holds his own against an acting mainstay like Judy Dench (who both give excellent performances), and gets major kudos for also co-producing the film and co-writing the sharp, insightful screenplay. When it's all put together, you get a film worthy of its Oscar nominations (including Best Picture) and well worth your time.

Accomplishment

Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Cat Did What?

Well, the day has finally arrived. August 19 marked the publication of the new book, Chicken Soup for the Soul: The Cat Did What? Normally, that would not particularly pique my interest, but this ain't normal. This new book includes my story, "The Marks of a Lasting Love" (pg. 172), and it represents my first paid writing effort. Hopefully the first of many to come. The check should arrive sometime in the next month or so; $200 big ones. I could get used to this whole writing thing.

The story tells the tale of the one and only time we tried to give our first cat, WT, a bath, and how that led to me winding up in the emergency room at the local hospital. A good story, if I may say so myself, and it is a sincere tribute to my dearly departed kitty and the legacy that she left in my life.

I had to wait a whole year from submission to today, when the book finally hit the stores. I did get 10 author's copies (all gone now, save one I kept for myself) for free, so that's another good thing about it. I haven't read any of the stories other than my own (so far I've been too busy) but I'm guessing that they're probably all quite entertaining and worth a read.

Better yet, this won't be the only thing I get published this year. Another story, "Giving Thanks for the Big Birds," is scheduled to appear in the November issue of the magazine Watching Backyard Birds. I get a year's subscription to that periodical, no money for publication, but it is another credit, and hopefully will help grease the skids towards more writings of mine gaining acceptance with paying publications. (I currently have drafts of two pieces written right now, with the concepts for two others worked out in my head and partially written up in notes.)

So things be movin'. Let's hope I can sustain the momentum for a while longer. Like, say, the rest of my life. Excelsior.

Reel Reviews

Captain Phillips -- Predictability is not always a bad thing. Knowing the outcome, as with this story, actually helps get the viewer through a pretty intense film. Even so, this movie is loaded with surprises that help make it an engrossing experience: the surprising vulnerability of a giant cargo ship; the filmmakers’ treatment of the Somalis (who are not portrayed as cardboard cutouts, but have depth, humanity, and real character here); the hints that this problem (piracy) may be the unexpected by-product of other problems (including environmental degradation, specifically our collapsing fisheries). Lots of stuff to think about here, but that comes afterward, when all the gripping, gut-wrenching stuff has reached its denouement. Posted 4/27/14.

Recently Read

Season of ‘42
Joe D, Teddy Ballgame, and Baseball’s Fight to Survive a Turbulent First Year of War
by Jack Cavanaugh

Season of '42
By Jack Cavanaugh

Baseball is, famously, the “talking game,” and a lot of that talking takes place in the pages of books. Each year, the depths of winter bring a longing for the summer game, a desire that directs us to the bookshelf in search of yet another of the delightful “conversations” that are so much a part of the game’s literary tradition.

This year, I chose Jack Cavanaugh’s Season of ‘42 for my January baseball fix. That turned out to be an a major error.

The first warning sign should have been the title: Season of ‘42. That title--so closely echoing earlier efforts, in various media (including David Halberstam’s vastly superior Summer of ‘49)--feels unmistakably unoriginal. To be fair, baseball’s 1942 season is Cavanaugh’s focus, so the title may be considered apt. Certainly, being derivative could be overcome by exceptional execution. Great writing, like winning, cures a lot of ills.

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Cat Sense
by John Bradshaw

Cat Sense
by John Bradshaw

It’s not exactly a mystery: cats are a mystery. Perhaps no animal is so beguiling in its actions, its sense of itself, its mere way of being, as the domesticated cat. And all that enigma wrapped in riddle surrounded by puzzle invariably leads interested parties to both write books about cats and read books about them. No surprise, then, that this cat fancier found his way to the pages of Cat Sense, the recent exploration of all things feline by researcher John Bradshaw.

The book’s subtitle--How the New Feline Science Can Make You a Better Friend to Your Pet--makes multiple promises, which the text comes close to delivering. Bradshaw reports on any number of cat related phenomena using data derived from fairly rigorous scientific research; so the “new feline science” part rings quite true. That stuff about making you a better friend to your cat? Well...maybe. That may depend less upon the information presented, and more upon how you use that information--and even then it may be a dodgy proposition.

Reel Reviews

Zero Dark Thirty -- Depending upon your politics, you may be predisposed to hate this movie before the first scene. But a more practical reason to hate this movie might be its simple banality. Certainly that’s true in the early torture scenes; it’s surprisingly easy to be blase about the evils men do, especially this many years down the line. There’s also a certain predictability--even beyond the already well-known endgame--that pervades much of this film’s story structure. I certainly wouldn’t call it a Best Picture worthy film, despite the nomination, but it’s probably worth your time, perhaps to be watched with a certain amount of clinical detachment. I guess that’s the cost of doing business within the notorious muddle this film seeks to depict. Posted 8/21/13.

Recently Read

Fat Chance
by Robert H. Lustig, M.D.

Fat Chance
by Robert Lustig, M.D.

I'm not qualified to judge the science presented in this book. I am, much to my chagrin, overly qualified to judge the judgments that Dr. Lustig makes about being obese--and that is why I highly recommend this book.

There are two sides to the issue presented in Fat Chance: Beating the Odds Against Sugar, Processed Food, Obesity, and Disease. On the one hand, you have the science mentioned above. Lustig delivers a strong case--as strong a case as you can make in layman's terms for a very technical argument--that the obesity pandemic that is now ravaging the world is largely the product of the over consumption of sugar, specifically fructose in processed foods. Making heads or tails of the effects of leptin, insulin resistance, ghrelin, and other hormones on the hypothalamus, and how all that translates into weight gain and "metabolic syndrome," can be a bit of a slog, especially if you're not technically minded. Suffice it to say, Lustig explains these medical matters with enough simplicity and clarity that a reasonably well-informed reader will likely judge his thesis to be sound and consistent.

On the other hand, there is the matter of the experience of obesity, both from Lustig's patients (related as illustrative anecdotes throughout the book's chapters), and the reader's own understanding of that experience. This is where the rubber meets the road--or, to be more apt, where the sugar hits the liver--for making the case that Fat Chance represents an honest, accurate reflection of what has happened to people all over the world, what is happening to more people as time goes by, and what the legacy of that crisis will be for our world if nothing is done to change society's course.

If you read this book as someone who has suffered through a lifetime of weight problems, you can't help but recognize in this text descriptions of the mechanics of obesity that dovetail perfectly with your own life story. Who hasn't grown up fat and wondered why you were made that way? What fat person hasn't felt the frustration of failure to control his or her behavior--supposedly the key aspect of how people get to be obese? Lustig has answers for these and other questions that contradict the received wisdom about obesity: the long-standing philosophical position that if you're fat, it's because you make bad choices.

Not so, according to the author; Lustig presents ideas that explain why so many of the treatments for obesity that have been preferred up till now--by the medical community, by government, by fat people themselves--simply haven't worked. He argues that behavior follows biology, not the other way around; that a calorie is not a calorie (meaning, different types of calories affect the body differently); that changing environment is more effective than changing diet; that our modern food industry has a stake in making us sick, despite the costs to the rest of society. All of this rings all too true, both to someone who has been trapped in an overweight life, and to anyone who has been paying attention to the overarching trends in our world, especially societal and political trends regarding the production of our food supply. In that ring of veracity the reader finds a forceful argument in favor of Lustig's view of the problem, and thus the utility of this book.

While Lustig makes it clear that the odds are indeed stacked against us, he does offer a blueprint for fixing the problem, for both the individual and society. The doctor's advice on how to overcome your personal obesity challenge--raised awareness about sugar in the foods you eat, getting more fiber in your diet, exercising as much as you can, and having manageable expectations about your health--may not seem revolutionary, but it strikes this reader as the best possible message on the subject. Lustig's prescriptions for societal cures--higher taxes on sugar, changes to subsidies and tariffs on various foodstuffs (discouraging sugar, encouraging fresh foods, etc.), using the fight against tobacco as a model for fighting the food industry--seem more far-fetched, if reasonable given the scope of the problem, simply due to the corruption and intransigence of governmental agencies. But at least the ideas are there, and given the seemingly insurmountable odds against putting any of those top down reforms in place, perhaps that hopelessness itself can spur the individual to take the necessary steps himself. After all, can you really expect help to come from Congress, or McDonald's? Fat chance, as the doctor might say.

I can't recommend this book highly enough, especially to anyone who is obese and wants to understand what has happened to him or her. Knowing about science and politics is all well and good, but knowing about yourself is always the key to any number of mysteries. In Fat Chance, anyone who cares about the obesity pandemic may indeed find that crucial key.

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Eats, Shoots & Leaves
by Lynne Truss

Eats, Shoots & Leaves
by Lynne Truss

I’ll admit it: I’m baffled by this book.

In the past, whenever I wanted to consult an oracle on matters of punctuation, I would grab my copy of Strunk & White’s venerable The Elements of Style. But I’m willing to modernize when the occasion seems suitable, and my writing has had recurring issues with certain matters grammatical and syntactical; consulting a new oracle seemed like a good idea.

Enter Eats, Shoots & Leaves: The Zero Tolerance Approach to Punctuation by Lynne Truss. This book was an unexpected bestseller when it hit the shelves some ten years ago, and it seems to have received rave reviews from anyone who had cause to care. Thus, I opened this small volume expecting both help with my writing and an entertaining discourse on all things punctuation.

As it turned out, I didn’t really get either one.

Regarding the punctuation: I consulted this book specifically for a definitive judgment about my personal punctuation hobgoblin, the “Oxford” comma. (It’s the comma that cradles the penultimate item on a list, just before the ‘and’ that marks the last item in the sequence. For example: red, white, and blue; versus today’s kinda/sorta standard usage: red, white and blue.) This comma question always puzzles me, so I figured, let’s see what the current standard bearer for correct punctuation has to say about it. Surely a book boasting a “zero tolerance approach to punctuation” would be able to provide the kind of ironclad guidance I needed. Right?

Well, no. Truss, the self-described “stickler” who authored this work, grabs the Oxford comma with both hands...and then punts. Her stance on the Oxford comma:

My own feeling is that one shouldn’t be too rigid about the Oxford comma. Sometimes the sentence is improved by including it; sometimes it isn’t.

Oh, of course. And sometimes my asshole needs wiping; sometimes it doesn’t.

What the hell? That waffling statement sure doesn’t seem like a “zero tolerance” approach to punctuation. Truss’s indecision left my writing in exactly the same place where it started--not exactly the sort of help I was seeking.

To be fair, Truss provides examples that underscore the uncertainty that lies beneath her Hamlet-like vacillation about the Oxford comma. The reader can see some sense in the author’s equivocation on this admittedly esoteric point of contention. But when readers pick up a book about punctuation, they expect to find firm rules to follow, rules that provide the intellectual framework that will improve their writing. As in all things in life, uncertainty doesn’t help.

Nevertheless, I’m willing to strike another blow for fairness and note that, on most matters of punctuation, Truss hews much closer to her stated goal of “zero tolerance.” Much of Truss’s instruction comes in clear, concise, definitive directions on usage that, if the reader can absorb it all, will undoubtedly improve his writing, especially for those writers who have weak spots that need buttressing. The Oxford comma stumble is somewhat anomalous, though for someone like myself it’s a most inconvenient anomaly.

As for the entertaining discourse...well, that leaves much to be desired, too. Truss writes in a tone that may be shooting for light, breezy, and conversational, but that actually comes across as pedantic, supercilious, and perhaps a little bit crazy. (Note: two Oxford commas in that last sentence; I think they work in that context...but can I really be sure?) The author’s almost celebratory account of her nitpicking life does less to convince you that Truss knows her grammar and more to make the case that she can be a real pain in the ass. Reading her manifesto of moral outrage over bad punctuation makes it seem like you’d have a better time staying at home with your sciatica than spending a night on the town with Truss--especially if she brings along her markers, paper cutouts, and various other implements of grammar guerrilla warfare. (Given her account, Truss seems destined to get arrested for defacing private property with her on-the-go editing, and if you’re hanging around with her you’ll probably get hauled in, too.) The worst of this pomposity pervades the Introduction; Truss has enough sense to play things closer to the vest in the heart of the book. Thus, a word to the wise: skipping the Introduction entirely may make Eats, Shoots & Leaves a better, more useful read from the start.

So Eats, Shoots & Leaves is a classic “mixed bag” of a book. You can get something out of it, if you want to (or need to) improve your writing, and if you can stand an author who is quintessentially too geeky for her own good. Just skip that Introduction and try to absorb the main body of the text directly. Or better yet: get a secondhand copy of the book and keep it on the shelf near your desk as a reference, checking on the rules of usage on an as-needed basis. (The book lacks an index--another point of demerit--but it’s short enough that you can find what you need quickly by checking the table of contents and browsing a few pages.) Any book that achieved bestseller status ten years ago should be readily available at a used book sale for a dollar or two at most.

Whatever you may think about the tone of this book, or using the Oxford comma, or crazy grammar people in general, this can be said for certain about Eats, Shoots & Leaves: Truss is right that too many people don’t know good grammar--and thus, any grammar guide, if used, is better than none at all.