Cast Changes: Out with the old, in with more of the same.

Cast changes are inevitable in any long running television series. Usually they are met with trepidation bordering on dismay by fans.  Adding new characters allows new dynamics to be explored, new subplots, plus rehashing everything you've done before in the hopes no one notices.  Don't believe me? Watch House. (If you speak English, have internet access, and have never seen House, allow me to express my shock.) Cameron's HIV scare is recycled with a different ending in Thirteen's illness subplot.  Or Cameron and Chase's relationship echoed in Thirteen and Foreman's. Same themes and tensions, recycled and rethought.  Sometimes a cast change isn't required. Look at how many times Foreman has actually been in charge on the series (hint: more than twice).

More interestingly, NCIS has taken advantage of a cast change to recycle not just plots and themes but dialogue.  Scenes with Tony and Kate are repeated with Tony and Ziva.  The reactions change, sometimes the characters swap positions on subjects, but the conversations can be nearly identical.

Don't get me wrong.  Judiciously, recycling can be used to show character development.  Repeating scenes with different endings can show growth (or regression).  And I am not inclined to think it is at all unintentional.  Consistency is very important when consumers can buy an entire series and watch in back to back, so I doubt anyone forgot they had done this before.  I do think they expect most audiences to not notice.  But with IMDB and lists of mistakes available on the internet, I expect to see a rise in carefully constructed series that can stand up to viewing as a complete entity, not as individual episodes.  Which is only more fun for me, as television creates more credible literature.

Smart Definitions

Americans have a good vocabulary for the people they perceive as smarter or more studious than themselves.  Most of the terms have been used as slurs, many have also been embraced by the studious set. Here is a look at the origins and definitions of those terms.

Nerd— origin 1960-65, means either a stupid, irritating, ineffectual, unattractive person or a single-minded, nonsocial intelligent person, [either having more or] lacking the social grace of a geek

Geek— origin 1915-20 derived from geck —fool, means any smart person with an obsessive interest, odd person, computer expert, a peculiar or dislikable person perceived to be overly intellectual

Dweeb—origin 1980-85, means mega-nerd, nerd, wimp

Dork— origin 1960-65, means a stupid or ridiculous person, jerk, nerd

Clearly, smart and stupid are equal and interchangeable offenses. Wisdom without grace is little better than folly.  And, as always, anything not understood is considered inferior.

I have always felt nerd lacked the punch behind geek, but the internet does not currently agree with my view.

Summer Classics- The Phantom of the Opera

Every American who has ever been enrolled in grade school (at least in recent decades) will remember summer reading.  I doubt it is unique to America either.  After twelve years of associating warm weather and vacation with classic literature, I find myself yearning for books written in old-fashioned language by dead authors (more than the usual) as the weather warms up.  This year I'm starting early.

Gaston Leroux is known for only one work, and even then most people won't recognize his name.  The Phantom of the Opera is better known for the plays, movies, and other adaptations than as a gripping novel of mystery and suspense.  Which it is, or would be if everyone didn't already know the ending.  Like any famous story ( The Mousetrap excepted), there is less suspense as the reader anticipates each scene before it happens.  Fortunately, enough plot is unique to the novel, that even knowing the end, the reader gets lost in the labyrinth of the Opera house.  And the stellar imagery makes this a thrilling read if you are alone in a large house at night.....

It should be noted that the spirit of the book is excellently captured in Andrew Lloyd Weber's popular musical, no matter what anyone may say to the contrary.

A little over 200 pages, there is little unnecessary description that most modern readers would balk at.  A nod to The Hunchback of Notre Dame combined with a detective novel and ghost story, Phantom is none of the above.  It is a thriller, and it does.

Appropriate for most ages, although I do not recommend it as a bedtime story.  This book is extremely accessible and everyone should read it.

Miscellany

Along with etymology (see post "Definitions"), I love miscellany.  Random facts. Its the same thing, really.  Small bundles of truth that reveal or explain an aspect of the world around us.

Miscellany— a miscellaneous [shock] collection or group of various or somewhat unrelated items. Sym- anthology.

Wikipedia is being unhelpful and redirecting to "Anthology".  Early miscellanies, like Tottel's Miscellany (published under the title Songes and Sonettes), would be called anthologies or collections today.

Schott's Original Miscellany is an example of miscellanies found in bookstores today.  There is no table of contents, only a lengthy index, and no organization to the information presented.  So, nouns of assemblage are found directly beneath a list of cricket dismissals.  Collections can also be themed like Schott's Food & Drink Miscellany, Schott's Sporting, Gaming, & Idling Miscellany, or Little known Facts about Well Known Places: Italy. 

Sometimes, however, the most interesting facts come from more unusual places.  Satiric novels, particularly in the sci-fi/fantasy genre tend to be founts of obscure knowledge.  Bellwether by Connie Willis begins each chapter with a brief history of some cultural trend.  Douglas Adams, in an article in The Salmon of Doubt, relates his favorite fact: young sloths are so inept they often mistake their own limbs for branches and fall out of trees.

Terry Pratchett has coined the term 'white knowledge' "to describe stuff that you know, and can't remember a time when you didn't know, but were never formally taught." Facts filtered in like white noise.  But some facts need to be sought out.  Here are a few of my personal favorites.

Lying can produce histamine to cause your nose to itch.

Bertrand Russell and Alfred North Whitehead wrote a mathematical volume that contains a 362 page proof that one plus one equals two.

The Anglo-Zanzibar War of August 27, 1896 was 38 minutes long, the shortest war in history.

The family that first cultivated broccoli also financed the James Bond films.

19 roads led to ancient Rome.

Charles Dickens invented the word 'boredom' in Bleak House.

A Written Cornucopia

Review of Secret Ingredients

As a rule, I find anthologies to be hit or miss.  Short story collections can be hard to “get into” and once I lose momentum, very hard to finish.  Secret Ingredients: The New Yorker Book of Food and Drink is a winning recipe among anthologies.  Upon reading a review for this book in the Memphis Flyer, I knew I had to buy it.  Recent convert to cooking, I have long enjoyed Food Network programming.  I am also a fan of collections, liking their power to preserve knowledge in an easily referenced way, even if I have a history of losing interest halfway through.   And The New Yorker articles promised a good read. I wasn’t disappointed. 

The book is divided into 8 sections: dining out—food made by chefs, eating in— home cooking, fishing and foraging— food gathered from nature, local delicacies, the pour— wine and ketchup, tastes funny— humor, small plates— short articles, and fiction.

The way a culture prepares and eats their food speaks to their climate, terrain, traditions, history, economy, and technology.  Many of these articles, presented in chronological order within each section, draw a picture of the cultural history of the United States, France, and to a lesser extent Russia, China, Mexico, Cuba,  and Japan.  The reader experiences the change in journalistic style, food trends, advances in technology, and cultural responses to historical events like the Great Depression, all within a span of less than a hundred pages and then starts over with each section presenting different figures to tell the stories of the cooks and eaters of the past century whose influences echo into the present even when most of their names are unknown to the majority.  Secret Ingredients is a starting place for discovering classic cookbooks and movements in the world of cuisine.  Culinary celebrities like Julia Child, Escoffier, Waverly Root, Careme, and M. F. K. Fisher all appear briefly, enticing the reader to more in depth research into a field all participate in but few study.  Not to mention the great journalists, like A.J. Liebling, who introduce themselves through their work.  There is also a lot of practical advice in this anthology: which days restaurants get their food fresh, recipes for tripe, why rarer types of fruit may taste better than mega-mart standbys. 

A few of the highlights:

"The Reporter's Kitchen" by Jane Kramer illustrates how certain smells and flavors can evoke memory and even inspire a writer.  "A Forager" by John McPhee is a travelogue of a trip taken through the Appalacians woven with the personal history of his guide Euell Gibbons, a self-made naturalist via his passion for gathering wild food and a subsequent author.  "A Rat in My Soup" by Peter Hessler introduces the village of Luogang, China and its unusual restaurant specialty.

Throughout, there are numerous attempts at defining what it is that makes up good cooking.  Cooking is compared to Dada art, analyzed geographically and historically, and sexualized.  Fernand Point in Joseph Wechsberg's article states, "[T]he finest butter...that's the secret of good cooking. And time, lots of time." Time, at least, seems also to be a winning ingredient in this collection of some of the best writing about food in the last century.