Ig Nobel Prizes

     Marc Abrahams. The Ig Nobel Prizes 2 (2005) Another find at the PYS. Abrahams founded the Ig Nobel Prizes with the help of small group of like-minded people, all apparently connected to the Annals of Improbable Research, which you can find at here.
     The ceremony takes place at Harvard. Many of the awards are for real research, some of it done as a hobby, some of it done merely because it could be done, some done for reasons that remain obscure. The Ig Nobel Committee has also given Igs to groups that claim improbable results, such as the CEOs of several tobacco companies, who testified to Congress that nicotine was not addictive. The ceremony includes the making and launching of paper airplanes by the audience, and their return by the people on the stage. There is usually an entertainment, often an opera written to celebrate one of the Igs.
     Most recipients are happy to come and receive their prizes, and most participate in Ig Nobel tours in various parts of the world. The list of prizes records the unquenchable spirit of inquiry, for the most part, and the willingness to obfuscate and mislead for the rest. Abrahams displays a dry wit, but is scrupulously fair in narrating who did and who did not attend, and why (if known). It’s noteworthy that every If Nobel ceremony so far has enjoyed the assistance of Nobel Laureates.
     There’s Canadian Content: Troy Hurtubise of North Bay, Ontario, worked on a bear-proof suit, taking it up to the Mark VII model. He is the only Ig Nobel winner of two Igs.
     An excellent and entertaining reference book. Recommended. ***

Herman, shlemiel extraordinaire

     Jim Unger. The Second Herman Treasury (1980) Herman is shlemiel, a sad sack, the target of fate’s indignities, with enough sly wit to triumph over the occasional assault on his comfort. Like Gary Larson, Unger takes everyday situations a logical step or two beyond common sense to an absurdly real place.
     Eg, two hikers laden with huge backpack: “We forgot the food” says one. Diner to waiter, holding a lobster meal: “Take that back to the cook. It’s already eaten half the french fries.” Wife to husband sitting at table, his head charred and smoking: “The recipe says a pinch of spice. I thought it said pound”.  Man to wife: “I just bought this pack of batteries, and it says Batteries not included.” Teller to would-be bank robber: “Read it yourself. Its says, Dozen eggs, bread, milk, chocolate chip cookies.”
     Found it at the Permanent Yard Sale (PYS), paid a loonie, worth much more. ***

Brooklyn (2015)

      Brooklyn (2015) [D: John Crowley. Saoirse Ronan, Emory Cohen, Domnhall Gleeson.] Eilis Lacey goes to America at the cost and urging of her sister Rose. There, she suffers from home-sickness and loneliness, then meets Tony Fiorello, a nice lad whom she marries the day before she returns to Ireland for a friend’s wedding. She almost decides to stay, but she goes back home to Brooklyn.
     The movie’s a romance with more edge than one might expect. The plot is cliche-ridden, most of the characters stereotypes, the dialogue straightforward and sometimes trite. Nevertheless, the movie works. It does so because it takes itself just seriously enough that we engage with the characters and believe Eilis as a young woman who must decide between yielding to her yearning for Ireland and her desire for her new life in America. The story’s about how the new country becomes home, and the old country a place to visit. Its mood and ambience, the willingness to look at (but not dwell on) pain and darkness, the insistence on hope, these remind me of a Maeve Binchy novel.
     Acting, photography, narrative pace are very good. Occasionally, the movie teeters on the edge of sentimentality, but its central theme, that one’s happiness has a price that other people must also pay, is one worth remembering. The music is occasionally intrusive. It’s almost two hours long, but felt shorter. A good evening’s entertainment, but probably not to everyone’s taste. **½

Criminal Sisters

    Marilyn Wallace, ed. Sisters in Crime 4 (1991) A collection, as you might guess. The stories for the most part rely on plot twists and shaggy-dog style denouements. A few examine the psychology of killers, but most focus on the puzzles, with little mercy or empathy shown for the perps, or even the victims. Several muse on the difference between law and justice. The mood ranges from the flip to the creepy dark. The ones that feature series characters rely on the reader’s knowledge. All are well-written, nicely done entertainments, worth a read if short mysteries are to your taste. Several of the authors, e.g. Grafton and McCrumb, still produce reliably well-done mysteries. I found the book on the used-book shelves of the local permanent yard-sale, worth more than the quarter I paid for it. The inside covers show portraits of all the writers, it's nice to have faces for names. ** to ***

Fashion

      Lapham’s Quarterly VIII/4: Fashion Lewis Lapham, sometime editor of Harper’s, has persuaded a number of friends to finance his eponymous periodical. Each issue offers text and pictures about a single topic. I subscribe to it, and dip into my copies from time to time. This one I read all the way through, perhaps because I had aspirations to dandyism at one time (which competing interests and lack of money fortunately prevented me from realising). Or perhaps because the collection of writings and images, spanning some 3000 years, prove that clothing, understood as adornment of the body, is a species-defining trait.
     All human societies have customs and conventions defining what adornments may be worn by whom and on what occasions. Textiles have enabled us to indulge and elaborate this urge to remake ourselves as we imagine ourselves. Religionists have objected on many different grounds, but they all boil down to the same one: we use our clothing and other  adornments to create an image of ourselves as we wish to be seen and respected. Self-image is the essence of individuality. Religion always attempts to reduce the role of self-image because the more we measure our worth in terms we define ourselves, the less we heed the strictures of the religionists.
     So it should be no surprise that fashion, which is the purest mode of appearance as self-image, should everywhere be both followed and derided, if not worse. As usual, Lapham and his staff have assembled what amounts to materials for a course of study. That it is also vastly entertaining ensures that the sympathetic or curious reader will be well educated. Highly recommended. ****

Portland Holiday (2015)

     Peter Kirchmeir. Portland Holiday (2015) Privately printed by my brother. A nicely done, chatty account of a month in Portland by my brother and sister-in-law, house- and cat-sitting for their son and daughter-in-law. I think it’s a good travelogue for the city, so if you know Peter and can scrounge or borrow a copy, read it. Fun and informative. Too much reliance on the spell-checker for proof-reading, a failing of pretty well all printed matter these days. *** (and yes, I’m biased).

DCI Banks: three episodes

     DCI Banks Series 4 (2015).  DCI Banks is a melancholic, passive-aggressive, but tenacious DCI, the kind that’s never satisfied with the easy answer, who worries at the niggling little details that don’t fit until all the bits and pieces slide around and rearrange into a true picture. My kind of ‘tec. These three episodes are well-scripted original stories, the writers have understood Peter Robinson’s character very well. The narrative pace is slow-moving enough to allow immersion into the Yorkshire ambience and to engage with the characters, but fast enough to maintain tension. You can find out all the spoilers you might want in Wiki's article.
     But my advice is to just watch them. The books are also worth reading. ***½