Save Trixie Belden!



I'm kind of shocked that this went so broadly unremarked upon, but the Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act of 2008, which went into effect in February, declared that pre-1985 children's books may be unsafe, and is cracking down on the circulation and sale of such books, despite the fact that, as City Journal wrote at the time:

While lead poisoning from other sources, such as paint in old houses, remains a serious public health problem in some communities, no one seems to have been able to produce a single instance in which an American child has been made ill by the lead in old book illustrations—not surprisingly, since unlike poorly maintained wall paint, book pigments do not tend to flake off in large lead-laden chips for toddlers to put into their mouths.
Books are getting destroyed because of this, and it's a tragedy, for booksellers, for libraries, which are often tragically underresourced, and may not be able to replace those books if they're forced to get rid of old copies, and for collectors. Like Megan McArdle, I can't imagine what my life would be like without the ancient books on my grandmother's shelves, or the huge box of Trixie Belden books my mother gave me to read when I was younger. But this isn't a matter of a collector's whims, or of childhood nostalgia. Not all of the books that will be destroyed, or abandoned, or removed from libraries exist in contemporary reprints. People will lose, perhaps permanently, public access to works of literature becuase of this law. It's insane, it's foolish, it's culturally criminal, and it ought to be rolled back as soon as possible.

Everything to Everyone

“You can’t fix this Liz Lemon, it’s about race. It’s about man and woman. It’s about money. It’s about being on TV. And no one understands all that.” -Tracy Jordan, 30 Rock

In further proof that 30 Rock contains almost infinite meanings, Amanda Marcotte at Pandagon has taken my debate with Josh over race and and the show, and taken it in a new, and typically perceptive, direction, discussing the show's portrayal of mental illness. I wanted to discuss something Amanda mentions in passing:
“30 Rock” also leans heavily on neurosis, since nearly everyone on the show is neurotic, at least amongst the main characters. (Probably the only ones who aren’t are Kenneth, Grizz, and Dot Com.)
Almost immediately after I finished my original post responding to Josh, I regretted not writing about Grizz and Dot Com because they're such terrific characters. I think the actors who play the characters have benefitted from having small roles: they almost never have to utter a line that isn't very precise and funny, and Grizz Chapman (Grizz) and Kevin Brown(Dot Com) have carefully built up their characters to take full advantage of their bit-part status. As Tracy's wingmen in life, Grizz and Dot Com are more aware than any other characters on the show about how celebrity works and how absurd it is, whether they're secretly losing to Tracy at Halo, helping him dunk a basketball, rescuing him from a crazed crowd, finding a way to make a Nigerian email scheme work out to Tracy's advantage, acting in his trailer for a Thomas Jefferson movie, BlueTooth firmly in ear, attempting to convince Tracy that the Republican Party has lost its way, or pretending to be Little Leaguers with patently fake Dominican birth certificates to salvage Jack and Tracy's dreadful baseball team. Like Liz, they understand that the maintenance of celebrity is an industry, but they're essentially unruffled by that fact. They're pragmatists. Rather than resenting Tracy's absurd behavior, like Liz frequently does they understand that without it, they wouldn't have salaries that let them buy iPhones.

And while it's certainly not the most revolutionary bit of humor on the show, 30 Rock consistently suggests that these huge African-American guys are total sweeties. Liz makes them both cry at Kenneth's party. They're both hugely fond of Kenneth, who has tickets to Spamalot and goes to speed dating with them. Dot Com is fairly unsuccessful romantically. They're in therapy to deal with Tracy's total lack of boundaries, something we find out when we see them getting ready to go ice skating. They're gossips who want to be popular with the more minor cast members on TGS. Some of the completeness of Chapman and Brown's performances probably comes from the fact that they're real people:



But they're also the closest thing to average, sane people that exist anywhere in the slightly surreal 30 Rock universe, the closest thing the audience has to a proxy on the show. In the dark, sharp humor of the show, Grizz and Dot Com are a consistent force of niceness.

Almost Famous

I don't really even know how to process this semi-deranged, brilliant two-part column in which Bill Simmons declares Almost Famous the best movie of the past decade and uses his favorite 50 quotations from it to dispense sports wisdom, except to say I really love it.

And while I saw Almost Famous at a moment that seems an almost impossibly long time ago, and the person I was when I saw it seems impossibly young to me now, I still understand why Simmons loves it so much. Come on: Zooey Deschanel entrusting her record collection to her brother as she sets off on a journey certain to leave her less open and hopeful than she was before? Philip Seymour Hoffman learning Patrick Fugit about journalism? Kate Hudson dancing to "The Wind"?


That movie contains more moments than almost any other, where if they leave you cold, I just don't understand you. I'm not a big fan of "best" lists, or of passing judgement on things that make some arbitrary cut and things that don't. But Almost Famous is the best movie I know for capturing an exceedingly brief moment when life seems endlessly expansive, and bright, and beautiful, and the pain of leaving that moment behind. Simmons may be crazy for treating it as the Key to Sports. But he's not wrong about its greatness.

You Know, It Would Have Made Sonia Sotomayor's Confirmation Hearings More Interesting...

If she'd showed up dressed as Batman. (Kerry Howley also has sensible things to say about fashion criticism and women in public life in that post, but that suggestion is the fun part.)

Tina Fey, Cartoon Mom


I don't think it would come as a surprise to anyone to learn that I'm fairly excited for Ponyo, Hayao Miyazaki's latest movie to make it over to the United States in an English translation. And I don't think it would surprise anyone to learn that I'm looking forward to Tina Fey's voice work in the movie. But I think the real reason I'm excited for Ponyo, which has a somewhat-incomprehensible-looking plot, and which, in trailers, doesn't look quite as visually inventive or transcendent as some of Miyazaki's other work, is that I'm excited to see the encounter between Fey and Miyazaki's conceptions of family.

Tina Fey's been working up to playing someone's mother for a long time. She's gone from the divorced teacher in Mean Girls, to the baby-kidnapping-hopeful-adoptive-parent on 30 Rock, to the women with the sketchy surrogate in Baby Mama, but she's always been just on the verge of motherhood. We've seen snatches of her and her daughter Alice in her American Express commercials. Motherhood is clearly important to Fey, both personally, and as an artistic theme, even though her own trajectory, and the characters she plays are touchstones for women who are smart, and funny, and career-oriented. One of the things I like about Fey is that she's always managed to portray motherhood as something that touches women deeply without suggesting that all women really want is to get pregnant, or dress their kids up in cutesy outfits. Motherhood, in Fey's work, is not something that is inconsistent with having a career. And so I'm excited to actually see Fey be a mom in a movie.

And I think Miyazaki's vision of parenthood will be an interesting frame for Fey's first significant role as a mother. My experience with Miyazaki's movies is that they're often about the frailty of parents: in My Neighbor Totoro, the children's mother is very ill, in Spirited Away, Chihiro's parents are easily tempted and turned into pigs as a result and Yubaba keeps her son in a kind of permanent infancy, and in Howl's Moving Castle, Sophie's father is dead and her mother spies against her, albeit under duress. The families in Princess Mononoke are ones that people make for themselves.

Fey's character in Ponyo looks much less compromised than the parents in other Miyazaki films. She's willing and able to accept the magical nature of her son's new friend, telling him "Life is mysterious and amazing," and moves to protect him when Ponyo's transformation from a fish into a girl sets off mysterious forces in the ocean. And there's definitely a sense that mothers are a major force, whether they're supernatural or human. "She's big and beautiful, but she can be very scary!" Ponyo says of her mother at one point in the trailer. "Sounds like my mom!" her friend replies. While Fey may not always portray or write potential mothers that way, that conception certainly seems to fit with her sense of the impact of motherhood.

A Personal Sunset You Drive Off Into Alone

Not to get all "trend alert! OMG!" on anyone, but the Times published two fascinating articles about couples who, even though their long romantic relationships have ended, are still writing music together. The couples in question are Stew and Heidi Rodewald, who long before they created Passing Strange, were part of the collectives/bands Stew and The Negro Problem, and now are writing for a range of theatrical projects, and Philip Glass and JoAnne Akalaitis, who currently are working on a production of The Bacchae for Shakespeare in the Park in New York. I'm kind of amazed by the generosity that these couples show towards each other.

These are all people who really feel that their art is a vocation, who have been willing to make substantial financial sacrificies, and sacrificies in comfort, to work on their art. And they're also people who found, at one point, a romantic relationship that allowed them to pursue that vocation even further. And when those relationships fell apart on a personal level, both partners in each couple were somehow able to agree that the art was important enough to keep working together, despite any personal acrimony they might feel. I'd be curious to hear if and how their collaborations changed after they broke up, if they feel differently about art period, how their continuing creative relationships impact the romantic relationships they formed with other people. I've done some one-time projects in journalism and politics with the people I was dating at the time, and let me just say, I never found that kind of fusion between vocation and romance that these couples clearly have.

The world, both artistically and otherwise is better for the fact that Stew and Heidi and Glass and Akalaitis are able to keep working together. Whether they're all better off for it, personally, is for them to decide, and us to wonder, and marvel, about.

Quick Hits

-Remember my friend Kat, the musical theater writer I talked about a while back? She has a new blog up where she'll be writing about musical theater and comic books. What more could you ask for? Go check her out.

-Katha Pollitt is going to be guest-blogging on poetry this week.

-It's amazing how a city can get lost and found.