Why Kids Should Read

From a recent decision of the 7th U.S. Circuit Court of Appeal on a copyright dispute involving characters in the Spawn comic franchise (via The Trademark Blog):

“The description of a character in prose leaves much to the imagination, even when the description is detailed — as in Dashiel Hammett’s description of Sam Spade’s physical appearance in the first paragraph of The Maltese Falcon: ‘Samuel Spade’s jaw was long and bony, his chin a jutting v under the more flexible v of his mouth. His nostrils curved back to make another, smaller, v. His yellow-grey eyes were horizontal. The v motif was picked up again by thickish brows rising outward from twin creases above a hooked nose, and his pale brown hair grew down — from high flat temples — in a point on his forehead. He looked rather pleasantly like a blond satan.’ Even after all this, one hardly knows what Sam Spade looked like. But everyone knows what Humphrey Bogart looked like. A reader of unillustrated fiction completes the work in his mind; the reader of a comic book or the viewer of a movie is passive. That is why kids lose a lot when they don’t read fiction, even when the movies and television that they watch are aesthetically superior.”

Two Stories

First, you have the head of the CIA telling a Senate committee that on some number of occasions over the last couple of years — he named three and hinted there might be others — he has contacted the president and vice president and corrected them when they were misrepresenting intelligence about Iraq, terrorism or both. Still, the CIA chief says that, despite the utter lack of evidence to back up Bush and company’s insistence that taking out Saddam was a vital U.S. interest and not just a family whim, he doesn’t believe the administration stretched the truth to justify the war.

And then you have this story: A Wisconsin kid named Jason Frey answered the phone one day in 1976, when he was four years old, and won a big radio-station giveaway: A donut a day for life from a local bakery. And 27-plus years later, he’s still collecting. As told, kind of poignantly, in the Fond du Lac Reporter:

“Frey was awarded an official certificate stating that he had won a doughnut a day for the rest of his life at Everix. He also got to tour the bakery with Dick Everix Jr. himself and learn how the doughnuts were made. From then on, Frey made sure he got the most out of his prize. A frequent visitor of the YMCA throughout his childhood, Frey would almost always stop by Everix on his bicycle before or after a basketball game to pick up his doughnut for the day.

“If he came later in the afternoon and there were no doughnuts left, the clerks would give him a cookie instead, he said.
” ‘They used to serve me right away,’ Frey said. ‘I didn’t ever even have to take a number.’ “

What do those stories have in common? Nothing.

Spalding 3 …

The Times has posted its obituary, too:

“Almost always seated behind a simple desk, with a glass of water, a microphone and some notes, Mr. Gray practiced the art of storytelling with a quiet mania, alternating between conspiratorial whispers and antic screams as he roamed through topics large and small.

“This talent was perhaps never better displayed than in “Swimming to Cambodia,” his 1984 monologue in which his experiences filming a small role in the movie “The Killing Fields” became a jumping-off point for exploring the history and culture of war in Southeast Asia. The piece was itself turned into a noted film, directed by Jonathan Demme, in 1987.”

Spalding 2 …

And here is the first New York Times story on the body. From the Associated Press:

“The city medical examiner confirmed through dental records and X-rays on Monday that it was Gray’s body. The cause of his death was still under investigation, said Ellen Borakove, a spokeswoman for the medical examiner.

“Throughout his disappearance, his wife, Kathleen Russo, had held out scant hope that he might still be alive.

” ‘Everyone that looks like him from behind, I go up and check to make sure it’s not him,’ Russo said in a phone interview with The Associated Press about a week ago. ‘If someone calls and hangs up, I always do star-69. You’re always thinking, “maybe.” ‘ “

Spalding Gray …

Missing since January and now found dead in the East River in New York City (no link yet, but The New York Times among others is reporting that on its Web site). A strange, sad fact is that no one I’ve mentioned this to in the office — and I’ve only talked to the Ford-Carter-Reagan babies so far — has any idea who he was.

‘You See This Sign?’

Wonderful Los Angeles Times obit, reprinted in the Chicago Tribune, on Carole Eastman, who cowrote “Five Easy Pieces.” Director Bob Rafelson:

” ‘Here she was, this rather thin and kind of fragile-looking woman,’ he said, ‘and she could easily write about the most obscure things like waitresses, Tammy Wynette, bowling alleys, oil fields. There was nothing common about what Carole chose to write about.’ “

I’d love to read more about her.

The Busher

Talking of Canseco, the man with the invisible knot on his head, made me remember The Busher, Ring Lardner’s guy (protagonist is too big a word for him) in “You Know Me Al“):

“Detroit, Michigan, April 28
“Friend Al: What do you think of a rotten manager that bawls me out and fines me $50.00 for loosing a 1 to 0 game in 10 innings when it was my 1st start this season? And no wonder I was a little wild in the 10th when I had not had no chance to work and get control. I got a good notion to quit this rotten club and jump to the Federals where a man gets some kind of treatment. Callahan says I throwed the game away on purpose but I did not do no such a thing Al because when I throwed that ball at Joe Hill’s head I forgot that the bases was full and besides if Gleason had not of starved me to death the ball that hit him in the head would of killed him.”

Real True-to-Life Inspirations …

CansecoYou can have your “hooray, little Jimmy overcame the mumps” and “Stalin loved cats and parakeets” sites. For me, the feel-good site of the day has got to be Canseconet.com, celebrating the past and … well, past … of the player who redefined dumb and caused the Society for American Baseball Research to come up with a formula (“squandered talent quotient” or STQ) to describe mathematically what became of him.

Oh, yeah, the news: Jose had a walk-on tryout with the Dodgers today in Florida. Early reports are that he sucked.

 (Pictured: The formerly promising Canseco twin. Used without permission).

Fantasy: An Oscar Hairsplit

People are saying “Lord of the Rings: Return of the King” is the first fantasy film to win best picture. Yes, but:
–In the first place, it’s a stretch to call the story a fantasy. Sure, there’s lots of imaginary beings and the whole quest thing going on. But I think Tolkien really invented his world not to spin stories about elves and wizards and talking trees, but to create a setting against which he could explore some basic themes about mythology and events in the real world.
–In the second place, a short list of Best Picture winners that could also be considered fantasy — if you buy one dictionary definition of the word as “literary or dramatic fiction marked by highly fanciful or supernatural elements”: “Chicago” (2002), “Shakespeare in Love” (1998), “Titanic” (1997), “Forrest Gump” (1994), “Amadeus” (1984), “The Sound of Music” (1965), “My Fair Lady” (1963), “Tom Jones” (1963).

John Kerry and Me

John and I met in San Francisco last night while I was waiting to take the ferry over to Oakland. When I was walking up to the ferry dock, a phalanx of police motorcycles appeared, followed by a convoy of black Chevy Suburbans. Several dozen ferry passengers were being held back by cops, and they already knew why: John Kerry, on a California campaign swing, was in one of the Suburbans, and the ferry at the dock was reserved for a trip he was taking over to a rally Jerry Brown was hosting in the East Bay. Sure enough, Kerry got out of one of the vehicles, and as a Secret Service agent motioned to a guy near me to take his hands out of his pockets, he waved and walked down to the boat, which waited for some staffers and reporters before pulling out of its berth and heading for Oakland. Then our ferry came in. It was only after climbing aboard that I realized how heavy the security was. A couple of Coast Guard helicopters patrolled overhead; at least two Coast Guard Zodiacs, complete with .50-caliber machineguns mounted in the bows, monitored the route across the bay; and a larger cutter was standing by, too.

We passed Kerry’s boat en route, and when we arrived on the other side, the fleet of Suburbans, and a smaller group of Oakland motorcycle cops was waiting.

It turned out that our trip was delayed about five, maybe ten, minutes in getting under way. Even that little bit of a delay prompted a lot of grousing from some of the passengers: “I’m not voting for him now,” one younger guy muttered. “John Edwards just rides around on a bus. He doesn’t need all this bullshit just to travel around.” And as we got off our ferry, one of the crew said, “Oakland that way — your tax dollars over there” — gesturing toward Kerry’s boat, which was approaching.

It’s the bitch and moan of democracy.