Review: The Coupe Next Door

I should be somewhat ashamed to say that the first book I read in 2019 is The Couple Next Door by Shri Lapena.   It is a plot driven page turner / thriller focusing on the unraveling of a kidnapping.   Although often compare to them, it does not in the same category of quality as Gone Girl or The Girl on The Train.    There is very little character development, and what there is does not seem real or particularly well crafted.  Because of this, the various twists just come out of nowhere, with some being guessed at from miles a why from first principles.

Still, I read it.

Review: The Favorite

The Favorite was the first movie I saw in 2019.  I'd heard good things about it, particularly the strong performances by  Olivia Colman, Emma Stone, and Rachel Weisz.  Plus, hearing that Colman will be portraying Queen Elizabeth II in The Crown made this a must see.

Aspects of the film remind me Hillary Mantel's depiction of Thomas Cromwell.  Not the subject matter, but the idea of transposing modern language and thought onto the past.  There is apparently much truth to the portrayal.

I just listened to the Slate Spoiler Special and must disagree with the Dana Stevens.  I thought the movie was outstanding, and that the overly stylized directorial flourishes were both fitting and sort of the point.  Plus, the dance sequence was great!   I wish the spoiler special podcast had on an expert in  Queen Anne and the 17th century English sexual and court politics. 

The performances, the characters, the satire, and the ducks make this a highly recommended movie!

The last book I read in 2018

The last book I read in 2018 was The Big Oyster: History on the Half Shell by Mark Kurlansky.  It was a quick and enjoyable read, perfect for a holiday or other vacation.  It especially hit my interests of history, New York City, and, of course oysters.  The focus on oysters, and the surrounding ocean more generally, is a great hook into pre-20th century New York City geography and culture.

A draft genome of the Pacific Oyster was published in 2012, with analysis showing an expansion of heat shock proteins (HSP) and cytochromes. 

Is this thing still on? Podcasting Done Right

Over the past few years I've become increasingly hooked on podcasts.  I listen while I walk, while I eat, while I do chores, and when I can't sleep.  Perhaps I'll have more to say, but want to highlight the recent episode of Slate Money.  In this episode (Episode No. 133: The Optimism Edition), the usual hosts (Cathy O'Neil, Felix Salmon, and Joran Weissmann) were joined by Laura Arnold to discuss various aspects of the Laura and John Arnold Foundation.  Nothin too remarkable about that -- a post-Thanksgiving show focused on philanthropy seems pretty standard.  What made this remarkable was the presence of Cathy O'Neil in the discussion, and her ability to challenge the assumptions and highlight ideas otherwise skipped over, particularly in the realm of models related to the use of statistical models in the  criminal justice system.   O'Neil has real expertise in this area, and opinions supported by research and thought and contemplation.   This makes the conversation much more meaningful than so many other podcasts focused on some issue of the day that devolves into punditry.

Expertise is valuable.  Who knew?

Review: Hitch-22

Christopher Hitchens is best consumed in small doses. This makes him a wonderfully infuriating essayist. His memoir, Hitch-22, however is much longer than an essay and at times takes some dedication to plow through.

The memoir focuses on the upbringing and social scene that Hitchens became a part of. Following along is his stories of dinner parties and friendships offers a crash course in the names and personalities of the 20th century leftist public intellectual literati. Here is one example of the sort of banter associated with this set:

At all events there came a time when someone arrived late at a dinner party complaining of having been stuck at an airport with nothing to read but a Robert Ludlum-style novel. This didn’t seem worth pursuing until the complaint was refined somewhat: “ I mean it’s not just that the prose is so bloody awful but that the titles are so sodding pretentious … The Bourne Inheritance, The Eiger Sanction; all this portentous piffle.” Again, not a subject to set the table afire, until someone idly said they wondered what a Shakespear play would be called if it were Ludlum who had the naming if it. At once Salman [Salman Rushdie] was engaged and began to smile. “All right, Salman: Hamlet by Ludlum!” At once—and I mean with as much preperation as I have given you – "The Elsinore Vacillation.” Fluke? Not exactly. Challenged to the same for Macbeth, he produced “The Dunsinane Reforestation” with hardly a flourish and barely a beat. After this it was plain sailing through “The Kerchiefe Implication”, “The Rialto Sanction”, and one about Caliban and Prospero that I once knew but now can never remember.

The parts I found most interesting involved Salman Rushdie, Edward Siad, and Hitchens’s opinions on the war in Iraq. Of course, must also mention Hitchens and Martin Amis. This seems like a wonderful and true friendship. We get it. It is touching how Hitchens admires him, and knowingly compares his own literary abilities with those of his friend.

The parade of authors and poets and Marxist intellectuals gets a little wearisome at times. But still, few can do self-righteous rage of the intellectual liberal sort as well as Hitchens. Again, on Rushdi:

“When the Washington Post telephoned me at home on Valentine’s Day 1989 to ask my opinion about the Ayatollah Khomeini’s fatwa, I felt at once that there was something that completely committed me. It was, if I can phrase it like this, a matter of everything I hated versus everything I loved. In the hate column: dictatorship, religion, stupidity, demagogy, censorship, bullying, and intimidation. In the love column: literature, irony, humor, the individual, and the defense of free expression. Plus, of course, friendship—though I like to think that my reaction would have been the same if I hadn’t known Salman at all. To re-state the premise of the argument again: the theocratic head of a foreign despotism offers money in his own name in order to suborn the murder of a citizen of another country, for the offense of writing a work of fiction. No more root-and-branch challenge to the values of the Enlightenment (on the bicentennial of the fall of the Bastille) or to the First Amendment to the Constitution, could be imagined. President George H. W. Bush, when asked to comment, could only say grudgingly that, as far as he could see, no American interests were involved.

The description of the friendship and then falling apart (personally and intellectually) of Hitchens and Edward Said offers a wonderful description of the nature of such intellectual relations. The chapter on him is great, and it inspired me to look up and read Hitchens’s essay after Said's death. It, as well as other writings revealed by Google, make me think that I may not actually understand what Said is really trying to say in Orientalism.

Some of these best parts of Hitch-22 have appeared elsewhere. Also, there is no denying the negative qualities of Hitchens (he can come across as an ass and a misogynist). But, anyone who enjoys or loves to hate his essays would get something out of Hitch-22.

Review: Crazy, Stupid, Love

You’re a double negative!

The plot is rather predictable, but Crazy, Stupid, Love was still a fair bit of fun. The beginning, with Steve Carell’s character (he has a name, but really, everyone will think of him as the Steve Carell character), jumping out of a car because is gripping in a sardonically tragic way. Some such moments hint that, despite appearances, this may be an unexpectedly deep or subtle movie. Then, instead, the predictably expected happens, followed by the expectedly unexpected. Expected doesn’t mean totally unfunny, but it does mean unimaginative and uninspiring. Hey--don't worry, Emma Stone and Ryan Gosling are amusing at times.

Review: Breakfast At Tiffany's

She's a phony, but at least she's a real phony.

I liked Breakfast at Tiffany's despite myself. I've managed to make it this far without seeing this movie. I'm not sure what I expected it to be like, but somehow my expectations were very far off. It was a lot of fun, and the images of early 1960s New York were wonderful.

Audrey Hepburn, a cat, and the early 60s. Plus, lots of drinking and smoking and not-subtle suggetions. What's not to like?

The Legacy of DFW

It's like this criticism was aimed directly at me along with every other keyboard pounder out here. There is a lot of truth in Another Thing to Sort of Pin on David Foster Wallace, an essay by Maud Newton in this week's New York Times Magazine, argues that Wallace's tone of aware detachment was just as manipulative as the other styles he often pilloried. Worse, the Wallace style is itself highly addictive and, when employed by us lesser thinkers and writers, rather annoying.

Newton argues that the Wallace style is the default mode of discourse on blogs and in much other commentary. This constant qualification serve to undermine our own arguments, and to wrap ourselves up in verbal clouds of possible deniability.

How we arrived at the notion that the postmodern era is the first ever to confront the tension between sincerity and irony despite millennia of evidence to the contrary is no mystery: every generation believes its insights are unprecedented, its struggles uniquely formidable, its solutions the balm for all that ails the world. Why so many of our critics are still, after all these years, making their arguments in this inherently self-undermining voice — still trying to ward off every possible rejoinder and pre-emptively rebut every possible criticism by mixing a weird rhetorical stew of equivocation, pessimism and Elysian prophecy — is another question entirely. Perhaps even now some Wallacites would argue that we simply have yet to reach that idyllic moment at which our discourse will naturally transform into a sincere yet knowing cry from the heart. I would put it differently.

Newton goes on to say that this is because in the era of Facebook and Twitter, we all just want to be liked. I am not yet convinced of that, but it is hard to disagree that "the best way to make an argument is to make it, straightforwardly, honestly, passionately, without regard to whether people will like you afterward."

Review: One Day

Like many movies, the best thing about One Day is Anne Hathaway. Still, the movie was quite enjoyable. The movie, based on a book, depicts the life of two British Gen-Xers through series of actions that all take place on July 15th. A.O. Scott is right to describe the resulting effect as "less a conventional story than a mixtape."

One's opinion is likely totally dependent on how one feels about the ending. I liked it, but can I see how others might not. But, I would like to see a film that tries to imagine that sometimes men and women can just be friends.

Reviw: The Help

I saw The Help after listening to the discussion on the Slate Cultural Gabfest. The gabfest discussion included Wesley Morris of the Boston Globe and mostly focused on a discussion of his review of the film. The thrust of Morris's critcism is about more than this one movie

Skeeter’s exposé is meant to empower both the subjects and the author, but “The Help’’ joins everything from “To Kill a Mockingbird’’ to “The Blind Side’’ as another Hollywood movie that sees racial progress as the province of white do-gooderism. Skeeter enjoys all the self-discovery and all the credit. She cracks the mystery of her missing childhood maid (Cicely Tyson). She finds a career at a moment in which women rarely had them. And she changes the lives of a couple of dozen black women whose change is refracted primarily through her. Skeeter’s awakening is a seemingly risk-free reassurance, just as Hilly’s Hanna-Barbera villainy is a kind of delight. The meaner she gets the bigger and higher her hair goes.

This was especially on my mind after watching the preview for the so-much-a-caricature-of-this-point I couldn't believe it film about some criminal who finds religion, builds villages in Africa and takes up arms. The downplaying (ignoring!) of the adjacency of others in favor of the white savior is really striking. When it is first pointed out you can't help but see it everywhere in the movies.

That said, the film is actually rather good. It is entertaining, and one can't help but get emotionally involved in the story. But, it could have been a much better film. Both with some mechanical cleaning up of some of the scenes and story arcs, as well as with a broader-based and reflective placement of the time, place, and continuing struggle.

Review: Dial M for Murder

My knowledge of Hitchcock films isn't as deep as I would like it to be, so it was a treat to see Dial M for Murder the other night. The plot is fairly simple, but it is executed so well that it remains funny and enjoyable. Since the audience knows exactly what happened, the film is more of a comedy. The ending -- with the mustache comb-- received laughs and applause.

Review: The Whistleblower

It will make you sad. Then disgusted, upset, angry, and a little bit more cynical. The Whistleblower is a good movie worth seeing. The tendency of things not to change shouldn't serve as an easy excuse not to bother or care.

Review: Bright Star

I'm sometimes a sucker for period pieces, particularly ones with a literary bent. In this regard, Bright Star, which focuses on the poet John Keats but is really about Fanny Brawne does not disappoint. The use of the language of Keats's poems works well. The film imparts the tightly circumscribed world of most people during that time and place as well as the intense, rather adolescent, nature of love at the time. The movie is exactly what you think it is. I enjoyed it.

Review: The Hurt Locker

In many ways The Hurt Locker is a simple film that works very well. Simple because it focuses on an extremely circumscribed stage: the experiences of a single group of people. There is no encompassing larger theme. Just one man and his relationship with war. No political message, other then, perhaps, the meek hopelessness of war, is imparted. As a movie it is tight and suspenseful. There is no real political message here. Perhaps that is as it should be. But, one can't help but wonder why are we there and what are we trying to do?

Selected Thoughts on The New Yorker November 23

Selected thoughts on the 23 November 2009 edition of The New Yorker:

This is the food issue.

Lunch With M. (by John Colapinto)
Colapinto interviews an inspector from the Michelin restaurant review in New York. Interesting tidbits about their training, the Michelin philosophy, and the impact of rankings on the restaurant scene are revealed. There is definitly an element of food porn to this article. If there is ever a place for that, though, I suppose it would be the yearly New Yorker food issue. So, there you go. Still, an enjoyable article to read.

The Taste Makers (by Raffi Khatchadourian)
This was an extremely interesting article. It is all about "natural flavors", what exactly that means, and how flavorists hunt up and create new flavors in the lab and by sampling nature. The article is largely centered on Michelle Hagen, a flavorist for the Givaudan company in Cincinnati. It follows her in her lab as well as on taste searching trips. This long article is wonderful and full of too much information to easily summarize. You won't regret reading it.

What's the Recipe (by Adam Gopnik)
The setup to this essay by Gopnik is ripped right from a New Yorker cartoon caption: a man and a women reading in bed. She's reading a fashion magazine and he's reading a cookbook. Why are they reading this things? Indeed, in this age-of-Google, what is a cookbook for? Gopnik lays out some potential reasons, but the point that sticks with me his is phrasing about the cycle of desire and disillusion:

The desire to go on desiring, the wanting to want, is what makes you turn the pages—all the while aware that the next Boston cream pie, the sweet-salty-fatty-starchy thing you will turn out tomorrow, will be neither more nor less unsatisfying than last night’s was. When you start to cook, as when you begin to live, you think that the point is to improve the technique until you end up with something perfect, and that the reason you haven’t been able to break the cycle of desire and disillusion is that you haven’t yet mastered the rules. Then you grow up, and you learn that that’s the game.

Unheavenly Host (by Nancy Franklin)
A review of television (and radio) personality Glenn Beck. Real or imagined, it really is some sort of performance.

Selected Thoughts on The New Yorker November 16

Selected thoughts on the 16 November 2009 edition of The New Yorker:

November 9th (by George Packer)
The anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall and the end of the Cold War sort of snuck up on me. Hard to believe it's been 29 years. Packer's piece reminds us just how amazing the turn of events was--especially in contrast with other would-be revolutions since then that haven't work out nearly as peacefully or successfully.

Slow Fade (by Arthur Krystal)
Krystal recounts the years famed author F. Scott Fitzgerald spent trying to make a living as a Hollywood screenwriter. Piece is notable for its depiction of the factory-like nature of the screenwriting process. Fitzgerald never really fit in well as a cog in that machine.

Nightmare Scenario (by Margaret Talbot)
This is a fascinating article that focuses on nightmares--particularly on emerging psychotherapeutic techniques for treating (managing?) them. The article largely focuses on Barry Krakow (who apparently has a blog)of the Maimonides Sleep Arts & Sciences, a clinic in New Mexico. Talbot interviews several other researchers, with a focus on a technique known as imagery-rehearsal therapy. It is pretty much what it sounds like, a sort of cognitive-behavioral take on dreams. There are all kinds of interesting things in this article, unfortunately I'm not sure how much weight to put into them since I'm newly wary of the Igon Value effect. That's a topic I'll have to come to terms with at some point. For example, there is an interesting claim that self-reported dreaming in color vs black and white has a strong correlation with television technology, and that dreams are now experienced as short, YouTube ready snippets rather than the sprawling narratives of Freud's era.

The Pharaoh (by Ian Parker)
This is an absolutely fascinating article. Parker presents a profile of the well-known Egyptian archeologist Zahi Hawass. Hawass is the head of the Egyptian Council of Antiquities and an omni-present expert on television documentaries. The article discusses the interesting role of ancient artifacts in modern Egypt as well as the politics of the small community of Ancient Egyptian scholars. Hawass's own academic findings and work habits are also explained. It was very enjoyable to learn more about Hawass, as well as the inside information on the connection between infotainment and scholarship when it comes to ancient Egypt. This piece is a must read if you are at all interested in ancient Egypt.

Hosed (by Elizabeth Kolbert)
Kolbert's review Superfreakonomics is an apt coup de grâce to the whole issue of "experts" (square quotes intended) and contrariness. Kolbert attacks the problem head on:

But what’s most troubling about “SuperFreakonomics” isn’t the authors’ many blunders; it’s the whole spirit of the enterprise. Though climate change is a grave problem, Levitt and Dubner treat it mainly as an opportunity to show how clever they are. Leaving aside the question of whether geoengineering, as it is known in scientific circles, is even possible—have you ever tried sending an eighteen-mile-long hose into the stratosphere?—their analysis is terrifyingly cavalier.

Lift and Separate (by Ariel Levy)
I've been thinking about Feminism lately. This is partly spurred by Jessica Valenti's wedding and partly by Sarah Palin. So, I was happy to come across the review of the Feminism movement by Levy. In this piece, motivated by a new book about American Women from 1960 to the present by Gail Collins, Levy argues for a collective bout of amnesia coupled with false memories when it comes to the history and accomplishments of feminism.

Review: The Age of Innocence

Following on from The House of Mirth, I recently finished Edith Wharton's The Age of Innocence. Published in 1920, this novel focuses on the morals of 1870s-era New York Society. The title is intended to be ironic, as the protagonist, Newland Archer, definitely has some inclinations that Society would not approve of. The point, however, is that in the end Archer chooses to repress his true feelings.

Archer, a young lawyer from a fashionable family, faces a problem that is not unique to his time or place. Should he marry the woman he is engaged to--the beautiful but dull and passive May, or the exciting, foreign-influenced, and curious (and already married but nearly divorced) Ellen? What a choice. Clearly, in the end Archer does the Right Thing and carries on through life and marriage as he is dutifully expected to. This is made all the more apparent by the final chapter which revisits Archer and his engaged son 25 years later. His son lives essentially in the times depicted in The House of Mirth, a detail that adds a fascinating backdrop for Wharton's depiction of the way things were.

I quite enjoyed my 2009 perspective on Wharton's 1920 perspective on what things were like in the 1870s. There isn't anything deep or nuanced in the story, but the commentary on society and shifting morals and marriage is still fertile territory.

The obvious questions is, all things considered, did Archer pick the right woman? But, really, he never actually had a choice. And, more importantly, no body was nearly as independent, educated, or--dare I say it--modern as the characters in The House of Mirth.

Review: PNB Director's Choice

Well, I guess even geniuses put together a dud at times. I did not enjoy Pacific Northwest Ballet's recent Directors Choice performances. I was irritated at times, however, so perhaps Peter Boal is doing something right.

Some brief comments:

Parts of Petite Mort were very good. And what is there to not like about dancing with swords? But, the dancers were noticeably out of sync at points--a big problem in a piece with such slow segments. It had less of an emotional punch than I expected. Mopey, featuring James Moore, was just very odd. Perhaps I wasn't angry enough to get it? The Seasons (a world premiere of a piece by Val Caniparoli) was much more traditional. Parts of it were engaging, but I would have preferred more of a plot or emotional trajectory connecting the different parts. West Side Story Suite (which I have seen before at PNB) is just a travesty. What's the point? Just go see a production of the musical--it already has such iconic choreography.

Perhaps my disappointment in this production indicates that I have now seen enough ballet to know what I like and to be unafraid of having a negative opinion. Still, I'm looking forward to my next chance to see a ballet.

Selected Thoughts on The New Yorker October 26, November 2, and November 9

I got distracted by life (turns out to be a good way to waste a week). Here is a 3-in-1 update of very selected thoughts.

Selected thoughts on the 26 October 2009 edition of The New Yorker:

The Predator War (by Jane Mayer)
The use of remote-controlled aircraft to kill people has become common place, as Mayer's piece makes clear. How is this different from targeted assassinations? And what does it mean for the connection between us and the real costs of war? It's no Skynet, but this piece raises some very important questions.

The Inferno (by Christine Kenneally)
Typically, in Australia people are told to stay and ride-out a forest fire, while in the US people are urged to flee. Is that changing? Kenneally reports on a tragic fire in Australia and how the results of tthe different approaches may effect future government advice.

Man of Extremes (by Dana Goodyear)
One can't help but to compare Goodyear's profile of director James Cameron with David Foster Wallace's profile of David Lynch. The two pieces are very different in focus and style, but both are very rewarding reads. In addition to discussion of the Cameron's soon-to-be-released film, Avatar (perhaps the most expensive movie every made), this piece revisits Cameron's past work and explores his motivation. This is very interesting article.

Selected thoughts on the 2 November 2009 edition of The New Yorker:

Why Banks Stay Big (by James Surowiecki)
Yet another cogent discussions of financial system. Surowiecki makes an interesting point: it is a huge pain to switch banks, meaning that most people end up being "locked in" to some specific choice.

I Don't Get It
This is the cartoon issue of the New Yorker. Per usual, some obscure cartoon references are explained. It's fun to try to differentiate the fake and the real explanations.

Selected thoughts on the 9 November 2009 edition of The New Yorker:

Talk This Way (Alec Wilkinson)
This piece is a fascinating profile of Hollywood dialect coach Tim Monich. He is an academic descendant of Henry Sweet--the model for Henry Higgins. The written examples illustrate the sounds of the different dialects surprisingly well. It is clear why Monich is the master of this area.

Captives (by Lawrence Wright)
Wright reports on what happened during the most recent Israeli incursions in Gaza. More importantly, he provides a larger context of the recent history of the Israeli-Palestinian conflict. I was shocked by the contrast between the present situation in the Palestinian territories with the state of affairs in the early 1990s. It is hard to be somewhat depressed by this piece. A lot is written and claimed about this conflict, and there are claims and counterclaims and points of moral equivalency that I cannot even begin to judge. I will not try to summarize this article. I recommend reading it and thinking hard about the world we live in.

Possessed (by Thomas Mallon)
Mallon uses the recent publication of two biographies about Ayn Rand to discuss her as an author and philosopher. One might think that Rand would be going out of style because of the economic meltdown--after all, Alan Greenspan was a disciple of Rand. However, it seems that the opposite has occurred, with her philosophy getting a rebirth. This, of course, has happened before--usually whenever the Democratic Party gains even a little bit of political power. Most people realize the problems with Rand's philosophy by the end of their teenage years (I think I was done with it shortly after 1998), but it is useful to keep in mind what this is all about. Mallon offers a depiction of the modern Objectivism movement (such as it is), coupled with a scathing critique of Rand-as-author.

Flesh of Your Flesh (by Elizabeth Kolbert)
Kolbert takes on the topic of vegetarianism in this review of Eating Animals by Jonathan Safran Foer. This strikes me an honest and clear treatment of the issue. After describing various arguments for and against eating animals (and they way they are treated), Kolbert offers this summary:

Foer’s position is that all such arguments are, finally, bogus. We eat meat because we like to, and we devise justifications afterward. “Almost always, when I told someone I was writing a book about ‘eating animals,’ they assumed, even without knowing anything about my views, that it was a case for vegetarianism,” he says. “It’s a telling assumption, one that implies not only that a thorough inquiry into animal agriculture would lead one away from eating meat, but that most people already know that to be the case.” What we know about eating animals is that we don’t want to know. Although he never explicitly equates “concentrated animal feeding operations” with the Final Solution, the German model of at once seeing and not seeing clearly informs Foer’s thinking. The book is framed by tales of his grandmother, a Holocaust survivor whose culinary repertoire consists of a single dish: roast chicken with carrots.

Rap Sheet (by Jill Lepore)
Why is the rate of homicide higher in the US than in Europe? There isn't a clear answer to this, but Lepore's article offers an interesting window into the history or murder in America.

Review: August: Osage County

August: Osage County is a very good play. It won both the Pulitzer Prize and a Tony, it has received great reviews, and is the rare play with a successful national tour. The tour, staring Estelle Parsons as family matriarch Violet Weston, is really top notch. The Saturday afternoon performance I attended at the Paramount Theatre was packed (to my regret, as I had a partially obstructed view) and filled with laughter. It's cliched to say, but the 3 hour play (two intermissions!) seemed to fly by. The pacing seemed nearly perfect.

In some ways there is not really anything very special about this play. The topic--a dysfunctional family, with secretes and affairs and drug problems brought together and torn apart by some tragedy--doesn't exactly break novel ground.

But, the execution is spot on. The dialogue is snappy yet realistic enough featuring angered and hurt and vulnerable characters spewing forth the lines we wished we could ourselves say. The subject matter is rather dark, with some revelations at the end appearing without support. Despite this, the play is deeply funny without seeming cheap. A real audience-pleaser

When simply diagrammed out the plot seems one step above a sitcom. Yet it is hard to imagine a better representation of the form. This treatment of the American family and the changing of generations will be read and performed and written about for many years to come.

One can already imagine the English class essays to be written by future generations of students analyzing what this play says about the Greatest Generation, of Native American's and the white middle class of the 1990s, of parents' relationships to drugs and alcohol and their children's use of the same, of the peoples perceptions about the nature of love and affairs and sex and age and childhood, and what, exactly, it means to be from the great plains of the central United States.

The problem is not that those course essays will be written, but that they will be too easy to write. The themes and symbols and references of the play are systematically laid out for all to see without nuance or real introspection.

I'll reiterate: this play doesn't break new artistic or thematic ground. It didn't even make me think deeply about anything. But, that is ok. Better than ok, really. It is an excellently crafted example of a familiar form. Perhaps a real modern-classic. If this tour happens to be nearby then definitely go see it.