Book Review Volume One

 I've been trying to get my reading back on for a while now.  The past few years, I've had a really bad attention span for reading anything new.  Basically, I read a few pages of this and that, put the damn book down, and pick up something I've read a million times before and read that.  There's nothing wrong with comfort reading, but when you can literally recite lines from Rosemary's Baby by heart, you should probably move along.  Last year, I friend asked me to join a bookclub with people I didn't really know, so I did, and it was fun.  We read about 5 books and then covid hit and that was the end of that.  And then, when lockdown happened in the spring, and I was sort of losing my shit, I decided that I should start reading in earnest, because what the fuck else was there to do anyway?  For some reason that I really don't remember, I decided to finally read "Carrie", and it sure was boring.  Well, I mean, not really BORING, but it was tedious.  Then I kept the Stephen King theme going and thought I should reread The Stand, because it was about a pandemic and all.  Well, motherfucker that book is big and the print small.  I made it through about 2 chapters and then shoved it in the drawer because my eyes couldn't take it.  I can't remember what exactly happens in it because the first time I read it was like 30 years ago, but I'm sure someone lives. So then I just said screw it and picked up Rosemary's Baby again and carried on with my life.  

After Xmas, I decided to reread stuff easier on the old eyes, and reread a favorite from my young years, Louise Erdrich's The Beet Queen.  It had been so long, I couldn't remember what it was about, other than it was set in North Dakota, and there was a scene where some old ladies were arguing about radishes in jello.  That's the sort of stuff that I remember and probably explains a lot about myself.  Anyway, it was an enjoyable reread, although now looking back on it 30 some years later, I'd really be pressed to give you the theme of the book, or even succinctly summarize what happens in it.  I couldn't put it down, but I have no idea what the point was.  But it's good, don't get me wrong - I just couldn't tell you much more than the old ladies fighting about jello.  

Right now, I've got two books on the go.  One is the book written by Whitney Houston's old bbf/lover Robyn Crawford called "A Song for You", and the other one I picked up last night is "The Hobbit" (I know, right?).  Let's talk about The Hobbit first, ok, because I am sure you are as flummoxed as I am as to why the hell I'd bother with it at my age.  You see, as I kid who prided himself as sort of being the king of the public library in my old town, I had a bad relationship with a handful of books.  Oh sure, I could spout off all the titles in the library young adult section that dealt with anything gritty or mentioned drugs or divorce or sex or pubic hair, or just dealt with fun things like illegally surveilling people like good old Harriet the Spy, and I read those said books cover to cover many times over, but books about other subjects I didn't exactly give a shit about were more problematic for me.  Lots of them had that damned Caldicott medal on them, which further taunted me.  Books I never could read as a kid?  These included The Chocolate War, The Yearling, and The motherfucking Hobbit. And with the latter, who the hell can blame me?  Oh, I signed that damned book out about a million times as a kid, and never made it past the first page.  Meanwhile, I had a friend who read all of those those damned Tolkien books and would talk and talk and talk and talk and talk about middle earth and whatever the hell else - I never could follow him.  However, he was whip-smart, so it bugged me that I just couldn't get into them.  Well anyway, I decided to pick it up again and read a chapter a day, and maybe some big light would appear and it would all make sense.  So, last night I read Chapter One.  The following is a summary of what I think is happening:  This little hobbit creature, who is some sort of not-quite-little person with hairy feet and lives in a fancy hole like bugs bunny meets this old thing named Gandolf, and he's, I don't know, maybe a taller little person thing who is old and maybe has powers, but maybe not, I don't know because I was bored.  The little dwarf who has the house in the hole is named... oh shit... Mr. Baggins?  Anyway, his type of creature doesn't like adventures, but this Gandolf thing makes some kind of mark on his nicely painted green door and the next day all these little people show up and they have rhyming names and eat like motherfuckers and basically, it sounds like they are going to go to some sort of.... hill?  That has some dwarf's family treasures buried in it?  And it is guarded by a dragon?  Or something?  Let me tell you, I was never so happy for a chapter to be done, and I've read the Anne Hecht memoir, so you know how dire that must be.  Anyway, it is abundantly clear that I am not someone who has the gene where these things are a.) interesting and b.) worth talking about.  I don't know the purpose of this shit, I really don't.  And maybe there is one, but I just don't fucking care.  Oh, it's just downright horrible.  But I'll give chapter two a whirl, and let you know if it gets any better.

Now, as for the Robyn Crawford book.  My daughter bought it for me last xmas and I am finally getting around to reading it.  Now, you all know me and my love of Whitney Houston, and especially my love of that first album of hers.  Well, I am almost half-done the book and I am up to the point where she's just releasing her second album.  It's all interesting stuff to me, because I like that kind of thing.  Nothing really earth shattering to report on the book, as it's full of stuff we already know - yeah, yeah, Robyn and Whitney were lovers from the time they met until supposedly when Whitney signed her record deal, and by then she said that they had to stop because that kind of monkey business couldn't follow them into her fame.  So they stay roommates and are together 24/7 and the press talks about them but they supposedly stop all things physical.  I sort of call bullshit on that, but really, it's none of my business, so whatever.  Also, methinks Robyn isn't giving up the nitty-gritty of their coke use at the beginning, which is sorta what we want to know, but again, not my book.  But two things ARE apparent, loud and clear.  First, I am trying to refrain from saying anyone's mother is a bitch, so I will just say that Cissy Houston wouldn't be my pick as a mother if I was choosing a mother.  Man, that's one bad-ass bitch.  Geez, that refrain didn't last long, did it?  Anyway, Cissy was just a complete asshole to Whitney. The second thing I've learned?  Jermaine Jackson was a dick.  Yes, I know that we probably already know that, but to reiterate, he really was a dick.  He was creeping around with Whitney right before she made it big and cheating on Hazel fucking Gordy, who he was married to, and I don't know how dumb you have to be, but if your father in law is Barry Gordy and you are in the biz, you don't go stepping out on his daughter, you dig?  Whitney got all gaga over him when they recorded this duet "Nobody Loves Me Like You Do" which was released on her first album, and it's schmalty as hell.  I actually like it because I don't mind schmaltz, but he was the worst duet partner because he can't compete with her voice, so he sounds even worse.  But, he knew she was going to be up and coming so he wanted to cash in on her, but she wasn't big then so she was just some side thing of his and then he went on the big Jackson's reunion Victory tour and didn't even give lil Nippy a ticket to the show.  And hey, I get it, I totally understand riding on coattails, because Lord knows I wouldn't be above it.  I mean, do you think any of us would've heard about, say, Rockwell, if Barry Gordy hadn't twisted Michael Jackson's arm to sing that one line in the chorus of "Somebody's Watching Me"?  I think Rockwell might have been Barry's son or something - I'm too lazy to google.  So Jermaine tried to cash in on Whitney, in the same way he tried to cash in on his brother Michael.  If anyone remembers, Michael also sang on a Jermaine song around this time, called "Tell Me I'm Not Dreaming".  Now, I haven't heard it since I was like in grade 9, but I remember it always playing on the radio, and it wasn't good at all, but Michael was on it.  However, because they were on different labels and because Michael was all over the damned place, his label stipulated that this song couldn't be a single, so instead, Motown released "Dynamite" as the single, and put the other song as the b-side.  So, people bought the shitty single for the b-side and Michael's coattails continued to be rode. I mean, sure, I'd probably do the same damn thing, but it looked cheesy and gross and the songs were gross, so goonie goo goo.  Also, this has nothing to do with the price of rice in China, but remember when Jermaine was on that very special episode of Facts of Life when Tootie is the president of his fan club, or the Eastland chapter anyway, and she gets all obsessed with him and makes that big fucking ceramic head of him and it was creepy AF?  The fact that this boy is guesting on Facts of Life should've made Nippy see the light, but what the hell do I know?  Anyway, to summarize, Cissy was one nasty motherfucker of a mother, Jermaine was one douchebag as a temporary lover, and Robyn makes herself sound as boring and totally not enabling any cocaine use at all.  I'm waiting until Bobby hits the scene and see how this house burns down.

Well, that's all the news from Springfield.

good night, and good news.