Archive for the ‘Framing Narrative’ Category
Valentine’s Day — for Love, not Conspicuous Consumption.
I’m tired of these jewelry companies, et. al., framing the narrative of Valentine’s Day and turning it into a purely commercial event.
Every year around this time I grit my teeth and want to scream after seeing all the ads for jewelry, flowers, Vermont Teddy Bears, the Pajamagram, and anything else that can be sold as “a unique testament to your love” on what’s purported to be the most romantic day of the year: Valentine’s Day.
But Valentine’s Day should mean more than an evening out (lovely though that is); it should mean more than a bouquet of flowers, any piece of jewelry (no matter how lovely, or expensive, it may be); it should mean more than sending a Pajamagram or a Vermont Teddy Bear (cute as the latter is, and practical as the former can be).
No. Valentine’s Day should be about your love for your partner. Period.
I don’t know why this isn’t discussed more; I know I’m not the only person in the world to feel this way. But when I see these commercials, I just get so disgusted, so irate, and so frustrated. Many people believe exactly what these advertisers tell them to believe: that it’s important to spend money on Valentine’s Day, to have a “unique testament” to your love (in the form of the advertiser’s choice, of course), rather than to do what’s truly important — spending time with your loved one.
Take it from me: no one wonders at the end of his or her life if you should’ve given your lover (wife, husband, soulmate) another gift, or wonders if the gifts you’ve given of a monetary nature were big enough.
Instead, what people wonder about is this: “Did I spend enough time with my husband/wife/significant other?” (Much less the ancillary questions of: “Did I show how much I care enough?” and ” Did I love (him/her) enough?”) Or, put another way, people wonder whether or not they fully expressed their love for their partner, and sometimes have regrets that they didn’t say or do enough emotionally. But they certainly do not worry about whether or not they did enough financially, in the sense of gift-giving, years later!
So, please, for those of you who truly love another, do your best to concentrate on what you have that you can’t quantify with money because it’s priceless — each other. Spend time with one another, and love each other, and have fun because you’re so jazzed to be in each other’s presence . . . and stop “counting coup,” financially. Please!
My favorite “comfort books”
After several extremely trying days, I read some of my favorite “comfort books” in order to feel better and be able to keep going. And that got me thinking about what, exactly, is a “comfort book?”
To my mind, a “comfort book” is one that will give you a positive feeling time and time again. It’s a book that gets your mind off your troubles, or at least diverts you from them somewhat. And it’s a book that you tend to admire for some reason — maybe due to how well the writer in question uses language, maybe because the characters “speak” to you, maybe because it has a bright and lively feel to it, or maybe just because these characters have survived something terrible but have lived to tell the tale.
These books all inspire me to do more, be more, and to keep trying, no matter how hard it gets and no matter how long it takes. Though the plotlines are disparate, and the situations all over the map, they all have in common one thing — they reach me, no matter how awful I feel, and no matter what sort of chaos is going on all around me.
So in no particular order, here are my favorite books that I turn to again and again when I’m feeling the most down and out:
MIRROR DANCE, Lois McMaster Bujold — Mark Vorkosigan’s story goes from anti-hero to full-fledged hero, has huge peaks and miserable valleys, and contains some of the best writing of Ms. Bujold’s career to date.
CORDELIA’S HONOR (omnibus of SHARDS OF HONOR and BARRAYAR), Bujold — Cordelia Naismith Vorkosigan’s story is humane, interesting, revealing, and engaging. Cordelia makes her own life her own way, yet realizes she’s as fragile down-deep as anyone else. Finding a mate as extraordinary as she is in Aral Vorkosigan is half the fun — watching what they accomplish together is the rest. This is my favorite of all Ms. Bujold’s novels/novel compilations; it also was my late husband Michael’s favorite work by Bujold.
Poul Anderson, the “Dominic Flandry” series (two outstanding novels in this series are A KNIGHT OF GHOSTS AND SHADOWS and A STONE IN HEAVEN) — Flandry is an interstellar secret agent, a literate and erudite man with impeccable taste who still manages to be a flawed human. He’s also a bon vivant with an alien valet and a romantic heart buried beneath his cynical exterior. If you haven’t read any of these stories yet, you should.
André Norton, FORERUNNER FORAY and ICE CROWN — Note that Miss Norton wrote many, many outstanding novels in the science fiction, fantasy, romance and historical romance fields; these are my two favorites. The former novel has a heroine in Ziantha who goes from unwanted child to highly-trained psychic, albeit in thrall to the latter-day version of the Mafia; how she breaks free and finds friends and companions is well worth the read. The latter features Roane Hume, an unwanted cousin forced to do her uncle’s will on a backward planet that knows nothing of space travel or advanced societies; Roane finds her own inner strength and throws off her shackles while finding the right man for her (more alluded to than delineated, but there), proving that knowledge indeed is power. (Note that André Norton was Michael’s all-time favorite SF&F writer. He had good taste.)
Stephen R. Donaldson — A MAN RIDES THROUGH. This is the second book of the “Mordant’s Need” duology and is a rousing tale of romance, mistaken motivations, political intrigue, and contains an unusual magic system dealing with the shaping and control of various mirrors. The two main protagonists, Terisa and Geraden, go from not knowing anything to being supremely powerful and confident in and of themselves while maintaining their fallible, undeniably human nature in a realistic way that reminded me somewhat of medieval epics (albeit with magic). Excellent book that works on all levels, and as always, Donaldson’s command of language is superb and worth many hours of study.
Rosemary Edghill, TWO OF A KIND and THE SHADOW OF ALBION (the latter written with André Norton) — the first is a hysterically funny Regency romance, the second is an “alternate Regency” with magic. Excellent books.
Mercedes Lackey, BY THE SWORD and Vanyel’s trilogy (MAGIC’S PAWN, MAGIC’S PROMISE, MAGIC’S PRICE) — both emotional and well-conceived, these books draw you in and don’t let go. Ms. Lackey is one of the most popular novelists in fantasy literature, and it’s easy to understand why.
KRISTIN HANNAH, WHEN LIGHTNING STRIKES — I go back to this book again and again because of the strength of its romance between contemporary woman Alaina “Lainie” Constanza and the outlaw John Killian in 1896; this is a paranormal, time-traveling romance that gets everything right. The characters are engaging though deeply flawed, and have had terrible things happen to them in the past but manage to overcome all difficulties by believing in the power of their love — but taking time to get there, which makes things far more realistic.
Linnea Sinclair, AN ACCIDENTAL GODDESS. I enjoy all of Ms. Sinclair’s work, but it’s the story about psychic priestess Gillaine “Gillie” Davré in the far future (she’s a Raheiran, is also a soldier and member of the Raheiran Special Forces) that always draws me back. Gillie is a complex heroine that, despite her special abilities (of which she has many), still remains a flawed human being. (The Raheirans think of themselves as human. Other types of humanity, such as the Khalarans Gillie works with, tend to think of them as lesser Gods and Goddesses, which discomfits Gillie no end.) Her love story with Khalaran Admiral Rynan “Make it Right” Makarian, a man as complex and interesting as she is, holds my interest time and time again.
Jane Austen, EMMA and MANSFIELD PARK — these are my two favorite novels of Miss Austen’s output, partly because the first is a biting satire and the second a morality play in addition to the “comedy of manners” Miss Austen seemingly could write in her sleep. I appreciate Miss Austen’s work more and more as I get older; her craftsmanship was outstanding and her eye for detail even better. (Note that Jane Austen, like André Norton, was one of Michael’s favorite writers. It was because of Michael’s insistence that I re-read EMMA and realized the fluffy nature of it concealed biting wit and savage satire, then I went on to re-read everything else.)
Finally, there’s the writing team of Sharon Lee and Steve Miller and their entire “Liaden Universe” series. I can’t say enough how much I admire these two writers, how much I appreciate their fine series of books (twelve or so to date), and how much I’m looking forward to GHOST SHIP, the sequel to both SALTATION and I DARE.
These books are all emotionally honest, they get the issues right, they don’t play games with the reader and the way these writers use the English language is superb. I gain more every time I turn to these authors and their books, and I believe you will, too, if you give them a chance.
Are we _really_ supposed to want to work at Wal-Mart? A rant.
Folks, I have grown tired of these “people who work at Wal-Mart” commercials, and as I just saw (and heard) another of these, I need to discuss why I do not appreciate them in the slightest.
First off, I am really surprised by the tone of these commercials. The Hispanic woman who’s proud — very, very proud — of her work at Wal-Mart because it “got her off welfare” and now she’s even gotten her son a job there — far be it for me to say, but shouldn’t she have aspired to a bit more than this?
Look. I worked as a cashier for three-plus years and a grocery stocker for a few more. I do not look down on people who do these jobs; I know they’re valuable and that many very smart, capable people work in these jobs for a time, or maybe for their entire life.
But for someone who was basically lost, by her own admission, before she started working for Wal-Mart . . . either this is TMI (too much information) or she’s dissembling a little bit to be polite. Either way, I dislike it very much and wish she’d stop.
Where you work is only part of who you are; I realize that and respect it. And I recognize that this Hispanic lady, along with the others who are proud to work at Wal-Mart and have been trumpeting it to the skies for at least three months now, are smart people who would seem to have more than one option.
So why is it, then, that whenever I think about Wal-Mart, I have the Saturday Night Live skit in my head where Wal-Mart comes in and takes over everyone, so the folks who used to have independent thoughts or were independently opposing Wal-Mart are now subsumed into its inexhaustible matrix?
These “people who work for Wal-Mart” commercials, to my mind, are sad. Just sad. Because I don’t for one minute buy that Wal-Mart is a “hip and happening” place, or one where people often go and grow . . . that some do is undeniable, but that most do? Unlikely at best.
All I can do is shake my head and change the channel when I see the “people who work at Wal-Mart” commercials, because it just rings so hollow. And false.
I cannot believe I am the only one, either, which makes me wonder why these commercials are still on the air.
If this is an attempt at framing the narrative, Wal-Mart corporate board, it’s utterly failed, because I just don’t see how pointing out a bunch of people who happen to work for you who are uncommonly cheerful about it helps get people to spend money at your stores. (If the thought behind this narrative framing failure was that if we saw the people who work at Wal-Mart that we might realize they’re just like the rest of us, well, all I can say is, “I see your point but that doesn’t mean I’m going to spend any more money in your stores.” In other words, it’s a non sequitur of major proportions.)
So with all of that being said, all I can do is hope these “people of Wal-Mart” commercials will soon go off the air. Because all I can think of when I see these bright, amiable people talk about their Wal-Mart experiences is this: “Why? Why?”
Reading “The Predator State” by James K. Galbraith.
I’m not quite done with this book yet, folks, but I have to say the ideas in this book bear much closer scrutiny.
In “The Predator State,” James K. Galbraith shows that even most of the hard-line conservatives (almost always Republicans) in the United States of America have given up on the old Reagan-era “supply-side economics” that they, unfortunately, campaigned on during the 2010 election. These ideas have been proven to be unworkable and perhaps unattainable, including the idea that tax cuts for the extremely wealthy will stimulate economic growth. (It doesn’t. Instead, all it tends to do is give the incredibly wealthy person more money to put in a Swiss bank account, or invest — usually overseas — and even investing here in the United States is problematic because of how companies are now run to maximize “shareholder value” rather than actually create good products and get them out before the marketplace and thus do some good for society.)
The American electorate was volatile and angry in 2010; I get that.
But to now have a bunch of Republicans in there saying stuff they don’t even mean — at least, I hope they don’t because if they do, that means they know less about the economy than I do (perilous thought, that) — really bothers me. And that one of those who should know better is now the new Governor of the state of Wisconsin, Scott Walker, is incredibly upsetting.
In addition, the recent “tax cut” bill that was passed actually raises taxes on those making under $20,000 a year. What sense does this make?
So, taxes have been lowered for the incredibly wealthy — or in this case, the low taxes for the very wealthy have been extended. And taxes have been raised for the poorest of the poor, those below the poverty level.
And this is supposed to be the “best country in the world?”
How can this happen in a country that’s supposed to represent fairness (i.e., “liberty and justice for all”) for all, including economic fairness?
How is this right? How is this just? How is this understandable, or make any sort of economic sense?
I mean, the old phrase “you can’t get blood from a stone” comes to mind, here; those of us who make under $20,000 a year don’t have anything extra to give the government, and those who make over a million a year obviously do except in rare cases. So if you up their percentage, say, by 2%, you’re not hurting them very much, where you’re really hurting someone who’s at the poverty level or below. (Poverty level, right now, is around $21,000 United States dollars for one person if I recall correctly.)
Unless the real strategy to keep illegal aliens out is to persuade the rest of us poor people to leave, too . . . and I think Germany, in the 1940s, proved that the strategy of kicking people out for any reason (in that case, it was due to racism/genocide) is an unproductive, losing strategy indeed.
And since that makes no sense, either, all I can conclude is that this is yet again another exercise in “framing the narrative,” trying to make what’s really going on in this country — many good people being unemployed through no fault of theirs, all of those unemployed people being unable to pay all their bills through no fault of theirs, and very little being done about actual job creation — seem the problem solely of the Democrats, rather than what it really is: a failure of leadership from both political parties.
Research in progress to finish Michael’s fourth “Columba” story
I’ve been quiet this week, folks, partly because earlier this week was the sixth-year observance of my late husband Michael’s death. I don’t enjoy this — who does? — but I feel it’s important to do my best to remember his life, and what he meant to me (I do this every day, but try especially hard during this particular week), and re-dedicate myself toward this difficult, often frustrating and sometimes rewarding business of writing.
Michael left behind a fourth “Columba” story that is, at best, 1/3 finished. I know the title, which I will not share right now, and I know the circumstances Columba and her husband, the Duc d’Sanchestre, were in after they attempted to cross to his demesne but ended up somewhere else instead.
Complicating matters, I don’t have any notes for this story or universe — none whatsoever, unlike the “Maverick” universe (where there’s two completed stories there I’ve finished, and two novels I’m working on), which has plenty — all I have is the title, my knowledge of Michael’s writing style, and the completed 1/3 (or maybe 1/4) I have of the story to work with.
What I’ve done is figure out the setting — Michael has set this well, but I need to know how I can continue to describe it as it doesn’t come naturally to me — figure out some of what’s about to happen next, and because I know these characters very well (even though I’ve never written them before, I’ve read these stories over and over as they are outstanding), I believe I’ll be able to start writing the fourth story (or at least my continuation of it) very soon.
Very few authors have attempted what I’m doing — what I’ve already done to a degree with Michael’s “Joey Maverick” stuff — most especially in the realm of trying to finish in the same style as the original author . A husband-wife pair (or spousal unit pair, if you prefer), where only one is left to finish the work of the deceased, is even more rare — I know of Ariel Durant, the much younger wife of Will Durant, completing her husband’s work, and of a few SF authors (Leigh Brackett, C.L. Moore, perhaps Janet Asimov to a degree) working in their late husband’s universes by permission or actually finishing stories in their late husband’s style.
At any rate, it can be done, but it’s difficult and often frustrating — this is not the writing that comes easily to me, and it tends to block out everything else I want to do until I’ve gotten enough of it out that I can get back to my work — and that’s the main reason my blog is languishing at present.
Aside from that, I continue to submit stories, write more stories, and edit various things — so I’m doing whatever I can to keep my dreams alive.
I can only believe that Michael would very much approve.
—–
Note: Please, please go to eQuill Publishing and look for my late husband’s “Columba” stories — it’s not too late for his work to gain a following.
Here’s the link:
http://www.equillpublishing.com/manufacturers.php?manufacturerid=13
What is the Story? Examples of Narrative Flow from “Maury” and Others
The main question, whether it’s on the “Maury” show or whether it’s life itself, is: what is the story? And how does it match up against the narrative we tell ourselves?
I watch “Maury,” as I’ve said on my “About” page and elsewhere, partly because it’s cathartic — but mostly because it’s a real, live case study of people who believe something which may or may not be true; this belief is what’s driving their own, personal narrative. On “Maury,” it’s often fidelity — or the lack of it — that’s the belief, or perhaps paternity (or the lack of it) — whereas in real life, many people tend to believe whatever is on the surface of things, and don’t dig for deeper meaning. (Or as Rosemary Edghill once told me, “Life just is. Art has to convince.”)
On “Maury” recently, one of the stories that struck me was of a woman in her mid-40s, a professional, sober woman who happened to have a sex addiction. She was married to a minister, who was also a professional, sober and intelligent man — and rather than becoming indignant, or upset, or unhappy, or enraged (all typical and completely understandable reactions to hearing a secret of this nature in a public forum like the “Maury” show), he said that when he married her, he knew she had problems. And that he’d be unChristian to abandon her to something she hadn’t chosen or wished for — truly an astonishing event for “Maury,” as it was mature, reasoned and accepting (without being judgmental).
Yet if I had tried to come up with a narrative flow, being a regular watcher of “Maury,” I’d have expected these other reactions — because at least 90% of the time, that’s how people behave.
In our writing, we’re trying to tell a story that’s driven by conflict — sometimes external, sometimes internal, often both — and we must make things consistent, understandable, and give strong reasons why we do things (yet not make them so strong that it appears we’re leading the readers by the hand). This can be a challenge.
Right now, in my novel-in-progress KEISHA’S VOW, I’m wrestling with character reactions. How much is too much? And how accepting can someone be, even when truly in love, when a big part of their significant other’s identity has been hidden away?
At any rate, conflict is what tends to drive novels, except in the case of novels that are all about the hero’s journey and are more about the hero’s mood rather than what he or she is doing at any given time. These novels are all internally-driven conflict, and thus are much more difficult to write because keeping the reader engaged and focused in an internal struggle is far more challenging than keeping him amused while fighting various space battles for dinner, washing up with saving a planet or two for a light aperitif, then seeing said commander called back to be knighted and recognized for his/her conspicuous heroism for dessert.
At any rate, there are expected tropes in narrative storytelling, whether it’s on “Maury” or in a book. In science fiction, there are conventions we need to follow, or obviously break, in order to tell stories that resonate with readers — and if we do break with conventions, usually it’s best to do so in a showy manner that leaves little doubt as to why you’re doing things this way. (I’m reading a book now by Charles Yu called HOW TO LIVE SAFELY IN A SCIENCE FICTIONAL UNIVERSE, and there’s no doubt Yu knows exactly what he’s doing as he breaks with convention, discusses philosophy, and engages the reader in what on the surface might appear to be a fluffy journey of how the protagonist finds himself and his father, but is actually the most profound journey there is — how to find meaning when the universe makes no sense whatsoever.)
Granted, the stories that are remembered often do break with convention — remember my “Maury” anecdote, above? — precisely because of how they broke with convention.
In our own lives, the “narrative flow” breaks here and there due to marriage, divorce, death, raising children, etc. And what seems a seamless narrative from the outside, to someone who doesn’t know you well, is proven to have fits, starts and jumps — something Sharon Lee and Steve Miller exploited to the fullest in their recent, and excellent, novel, SALTATION. (Not to mention their recent, and excellent, novel MOUSE AND DRAGON, a sequel to their scintillating SCOUT’S PROGRESS. Or really any of their other books or stories — Lee and Miller have narrative flow down to an art form, and I highly recommend all their work.) Here, the conventions of science fiction are adhered to, yet this frees the authors to explore the dynamic tension of inner conflict amidst outer conflict, along with dealing with various problems due to societal expectations and cultural clashes. (If someone is looking to write romance, much less believable romance, but doesn’t know the first thing about how to do it in a science-fictional setting, reading Lee and Miller’s work would be an excellent place to start.)
So, what is your story? And what examples of narrative flow do you look for, when you pick something to read, write, or emulate in your own writing?
The Role of the Professional Critic: Don Rosenberg v. the Cleveland Orchestra and Plain Dealer.
The saga of Donald Rosenberg, erstwhile classical music critic of the Cleveland Plain Dealer, has brought to my attention how difficult the role of the professional critic may be — and how quickly even a highly-regarded critic like Rosenberg can fall if not backed by his employers.
Oh, you don’t know Mr. Rosenberg’s work? Well, many don’t, but for thirty years he wrote about the Cleveland Orchestra (formerly known as the Cleveland Symphony Orchestra), and he’s written a book about the orchestra called The Cleveland Orchestra Story: Second to None, which came out in 2000 and is available at Amazon.com at this link:
The upshot of Mr. Rosenberg’s story was that he was demoted by his employer, the Plain Dealer, because the Cleveland Orchestra was upset over comments Rosenberg had made about the Orchestra’s conductor, Franz Welser-Most. Rosenberg sued, claiming among other things that his freedom of speech was infringed upon, that the Plain Dealer had practiced age discrimination against him, and that Welser-Most had abused his position as conductor in order to get what Welser-Most viewed as a “hostile” critic removed from his post. More about this suit is available here:
http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2008/12/11/cleveland-plain-dealer-su_n_150404.html
Recently, Mr. Rosenberg lost his lawsuit, which is why this subject came to my attention in the first place. (For the record, I think it’s wrong for a critic to lose his job merely because a conductor does not like him or what he writes. If Leonard Bernstein had been that way, half the reviewers in New York would’ve lost their jobs in the ’50s and ’60s.) A good blog that’s followed the whole situation from the beginning is called Sounds & Fury; a good place to start is the following post, a “final comment” on Mr. Rosenberg’s unfortunate situation:
But all of this has made me think — what is the role of the professional critic, especially if someone does not like what he or she is writing? Because if you ask someone, “What is a critic?,” you’re going to get a really odd look, followed by, “Someone who criticizes!” or maybe, “Someone who gets paid to criticize for a living.”
Now, I know from reviewing books for Amazon.com and elsewhere, not everyone’s going to agree with me regarding a review. Sometimes, the disagreement is over something profound, but most of the time it’s over something that’s seemingly trivial — such as, whether a book is suitable for someone who’s seven, or eight; whether a love story in the background is detrimental (even if there’s no actual sex going on) — and the fact that I see this as trivial while someone else sees this as profound is part of the human condition.
However, when a professional critic is effectively muzzled by an orchestra, or worse, by the conductor of the orchestra, that is not helpful to the entire profession of critics. As Michael Phillips wrote in his 8/12/2010 column at the Chicago Tribune, available here: http://featuresblogs.chicagotribune.com/talking_pictures/2010/08/critic-donald-rosenberg.html
There is so much fear and self-censorship in the critics’ ranks in America today. There are so few full-time salaries. You can smell the caution and paranoia in too many reviews weighed down by generalities and a stenographer’s devotion to “objectivity,” which isn’t what this endeavor is about at all. It’s about informed, vividly argued subjectivity.
(I added the bold in last paragraph, just in case you missed it.)
Phillips goes on to say that:
Approached the wrong way criticism is an inherently arrogant and narcissistic pursuit, yet what I’m left with, increasingly, is how humbling it is. It’s hard to get a review right for yourself, let alone for anyone reading it later. It’s even harder to be an artist worth writing and reading about, because so much conspires against even an inspired artist’s bravest efforts.
I agree with this; I agonize over the book reviews I write, and the music reviews, and when I used to write movie reviews for the Daily Nebraskan (and elsewhere), I used to worry myself to pieces over those, too. Because if you’re a good critic, or you’re at least trying to become one, you do worry about whether or not you’ve explained what it is you’re criticizing well enough so your critique of it all will make any sense to the reader who’s not as able to make an informed, rational decision as you (not having seen and heard what you have as “the critic”).
Finally, Phillips says this:
. . . no critic has a ‘right’ to a compensated opinion. We serve at the pleasure of our employers. And yet we’re only worth reading when we push our luck and ourselves, and remember that without a sense of freedom, coupled with a sense that we cannot squander it, we’re just filler.
(Once again, the emphasis here was mine.)
Many points to ponder for both the writer and critic alike, but what I think most troubles me about all of this is how the Cleveland Plain Dealer attempted to frame the narrative. Their version of events is strikingly different than Mr. Rosenberg’s, yet as a highly trained classical musician, I am much more sympathetic to Mr. Rosenberg’s version of events (where Rosenberg quoted, verbatim, some unflattering statements from Welser-Most about music lovers in the US of A, etc.). The fact of the matter is, many European conductors are dismissive of posts in the United States of America and they’d rather be working in their home countries, where they feel their art is more respected. Most conductors from Austria (where Welser-Most is from), France, Germany, Italy, etc., view the US of A as being uncultured, uncivilized, and far less interested in classical music than their homelands. And many of these guys have put down Americans in general for years — this is no secret, and while it should be shameful for these European conductors, it isn’t.
For Welser-Most to get upset because Rosenberg dared to call Welser-Most to account for some of his comments about Cleveland’s “blue-haired ladies” and about how Welser-Most apparently didn’t think much of Cleveland, seems mighty thin-skinned to me. In addition, any criticism of a conductor — especially when it’s backed up by many other critics the world over (Welser-Most has a reputation that basically equates to, “If W-M loves the piece, he does a good job; if not, well, whatever”) — should be allowed and understood. (Free speech, remember?)
The fact that Welser-Most, the conductor of the Cleveland Orchestra, managed to force Rosenberg from his position at the Plain Dealer, shows a great deal more about Welser-Most than Welser-Most probably wishes were the case. Further, that the Cleveland Orchestra’s board of directors are able to say with supposedly clean hands (and without any air of hypocrisy about them) that they did nothing wrong, that they did not force Rosenberg out — well, it smells. To high heaven.
I view what happened the same way Pulitzer Prize-winning columnist Martin Bernheimer does, available at this link from the Financial Times:
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/2/ad3fb6c6-a668-11df-8767-00144feabdc0.html
Pointing out that Rosenberg is a horn player and holds three music degrees, Bernheimer put it plainly in the opening of his column:
Donald Rosenberg lost. So did Cleveland. And so did journalism in general and the precarious practice of music criticism in particular.
Absolutely right, Mr. Bernheimer. And what a shame, and a loss, that Rosenberg lost his lawsuit; what a horrible commentary on our life and times.
Narrative fail: why Lauren Froderman from SYTYCD is no “sex bomb.”
Full disclosure: I have watched the reality TV program “So You Think You Can Dance” for several years now — since season two. Which is why I believe an attempted framing of the narrative failed this season.
Lauren Froderman is eighteen years of age, a recent high school graduate, and is from Phoenix, Arizona. She also is the season seven winner of “So You Think You Can Dance,” and was extolled as “a perfect female dancer” time and time again by Mia Michaels, choreographer and judge. She also was told again and again by Nigel Lythgoe, executive producer and judge, and Adam Shankman, well-known producer and judge, that she had “become a woman” on the show and was the epitome of sexiness when she danced. She also was told that she was the “best female dancer” they’ve “ever had on the show” time and time again.
Um, excuse me. No. She. Wasn’t.
Look. I’ve watched SYTYCD every season since Benji Schwimmer’s year and win (season two), and I know what dancers have been through there. Alison Holker, one of this year’s All-Stars (dancers from previous seasons who did not win, but impressed the judges, and were brought back to dance with this season’s eleven finalists), was probably the best all-around female dancer they’ve ever had — and she was in season two’s cast. Other excellent female dancers have included Heidi Groskreutz (season two), Lacey Schwimmer, younger sister of Benji (season three), Chelsie Hightower (season four), Katee Shean (season five), and this season’s Ashley Galvan. All of them, without fail, were more mature as dancers than Lauren Froderman, and projected more sexuality and sass, perhaps because nearly all of them were older than Lauren Froderman.
This doesn’t mean Lauren Froderman can’t dance. She can. She’s very good, but she’s also rather juvenile — she has almost no figure because she’s so young and she’s danced herself to under two percent body fat, no doubt — and she looks like she’s maybe fourteen years of age no matter how much makeup they put on the poor girl.
Now, did she work hard enough to win SYTYCD? Of course she did. SYTYCD is brutal, as shown by the fact that two dancers this season came up with severe injuries (Alex Wong, Ashley Galvan) and two more had injuries which, while not season-ending, didn’t help them (Lauren Froderman was injured two or three weeks from the end with a concussion and severe dehydration but danced anyway, while Billy Bell had to take a week off due to a knee problem).
Lauren Froderman is as deserving as anyone who survived this year’s SYCYTD ; the problem is, why was it that there were no female dancers available who were up to the weight of Alison Holker, Lacey Schwimmer, et. al.? And why was it, with the exception of Alex Wong and Billy Bell, that so few male dancers were up to the weight of past male contestants such as Travis Wall (runner-up, season 2), Danny Tidwell (runner-up, season 3), Will Wingfield (season four), or Ade Obayomi (season five), one of this year’s All-Stars?
The main problem I had with this year’s SYTYCD was the blatant manipulation by the judges Lythgoe, Michaels and Shankman. We knew from the first they wanted Alex Wong, which didn’t bother me so much as he was excellent; then after he was injured, they hitched their wagon to Kent Boyd, who was charming and likable but also extremely young at eighteen years of age, but they obviously were also rooting for Lauren — especially as she was the only female contestant left standing around the top seven dancer mark.
I don’t mind rooting, but I do mind blatant favoritism, and it gets old to hear “you are everything,” as Michaels said over and over again. Because when that’s all a judge can say, it means someone isn’t doing their job to give constructive critiques to help these young dancers — it means instead that someone is attempting to frame the narrative.
At any rate, Lauren Froderman is a very good, highly competent dancer. She’s not great at ballroom, but she was good at everything, and was exceptional in her own specialty, contemporary dancing. (AKA “fall, roll, fall, flail.” That’s all it looks like to the uninitiated.) She didn’t need the judges to tell her she was the sexiest woman who ever walked, or need the judges to tell her that her butt was the best part of the season (this happened again and again) — all she needed was for the judges to praise her dancing for its consistency, not all that other stuff.
I consider what judges Lythgoe, Michaels and Shankman did in extolling thin-as-a-board Lauren Froderman as the epitome of female sexuality a failure to frame the narrative, because while Lauren Froderman was a deserving winner, she did not exude sexuality or maturity as a dancer — she’s far too young for any of that — and the judges telling her that she did was a major disservice to the poor girl.
One final thought on this subject. Season Three’s winner was a gal named Sabra Johnson, who was spunky and cute and a good dancer in a wide variety of styles. But she hasn’t made a mark on the dance world since then, partly because she probably won too early in her development. It’s possible Sabra listened to the hype, which was similar to the hype Lauren has been dealing with for the past several weeks — it’s also possible that Sabra’s development as an artist stopped because the competition messed with her head. (As a former competitive musician, I understand this aspect.) I can only hope that Lauren will realize as she matures that SYTYCD is only part of her life, part of her eventual career, and come to a more realistic self-image: that of an outstanding dancer, but one on the spunky and cute side rather than a “sex bomb” like Anya Garnis (yet another of this season’s All-Stars, from season four).
— Note: Dancers are athletes. Even Gatorade has recognized this. Which is why this post ended up in sports figures and sports marketing as well as the others.
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