Best of 2024

Considering the number of high points this year delivered, in order to keep this post a reasonable length, I'm forced to leave out several things that would easily have made earlier iterations in this series. No matter. Please share with me and others as many "best of" moments from 2024 as you wish, using either my headings or your own.

Best single moment: No contest here: On October 3 at 6:37 p.m., I became a grandfather. How I wish my new grandson lived right around the block vs. across the country. 

Best musical moments: The first few measures playing Body and Soul with just a pianist at an open jazz jam session at the Long Branch Distillery in March and then parts of my solo in Summertime at another session at the Chubby Pickle in Atlantic Highlands in September.  

Best vacation: The two-week trip across four countries in southern Africa we took in February was so exceptional, putting it in a "best of 2024" bucket is inadequate. That vacation might be the best my wife and I have taken together over our 47+ years.

Best documentary: Stamped from the Beginning, based on Ibram X. Kendi's eponymous book from 2016, was riveting start to finish. The segments featuring the fiercely intelligent Angela Davis are revelatory.

Best sign in a coffee shop: "We have no Wi-Fi. Pretend it's 1995 and talk to one another."

Best crow-eating discovery: Stumbling onto The Last Rung on the Ladder a 1978 short story by a young Stephen King. It's easy, if lazy, for reading snobs to bad mouth King, given his massive popularity and prodigious output. But this early story of his - no horror, mayhem, or vampires in sight - reminded this snob of his undeniable writing talent. The taste of crow remains fresh, many months later.

Please join me in celebrating 2024. And Happy New Year! 

Re-Visiting the Re-Cap

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Reading Re-Cap: 2024

Those of you who read the post above a week ago can't say you weren't warned. With the number of books finished during this extended time away from home rapidly approaching a monthly record, it was more than predictive that - before 2024 was over - I might still stumble across at least one solid novel worth recommending to people I've heard describe themselves as casual readers. 

"The women were talking about people, the men talking about things. It was why so many of the men prospered on Wall Street and in the big law firms, where things could be turned into money and people were interchangeable and even insignificant, and there were hardly any women running the show."   

Alternate Side (2018) is engaging and smart end-to-end. Anchored by Anna Quindlen's sturdy prose, well-etched characters, and storytelling skill, the book is filled with sharp insights touching on money, marriage, and messy New York City life. Not since finishing Amor Towles's debut novel Rules of Civility in 2011 have I read a novel that consistently captures NYC as well as Quindlen does here. 

"...some of their marriages were like balloons: a few went suddenly pop, but more often than not the air slowly leaked out until it was a sad wrinkled little thing with no lift to it anymore."

In addition, unlike some family novels, the emotional ending in this one struck me as both well-earned and authentic. "People go through life thinking they're making decisions when they're really just making plans, which is not the same thing at all." Put this on your list, casual or discerning readers.

p.s. I'll let you decide if you want to read my Goodreads review (link below) to learn of one quibble I have with the editing of Alternate Side. That quibble aside, let me be clear: I adore Anna Quindlen. 

Edit Review - Alternate Side | Goodreads

Memorializing His First Christmas

Like most people, I have no recollection of my first Christmas. I suspect the same will be true for my new grandson, a little under three months old today.

Over the last three weeks spent with him, the likelihood my grandson would not recall anything about his first Christmas did not dissuade me from imagining otherwise. And in my egotistical fantasies, the only gift he would remember would be one I gave to him. 

Early today, I realized how much I was looking forward to feeding the little man again. I grabbed my journal to record that pleasant anticipation. Then something told me to go back and read some of my recent journal entries. 

Be fully present for Leo in any way I'm needed during the time spent with him. The moment I read that sentence from my journal, written a few days before we left home for this extended visit, the dual meaning of the word present struck me anew. In the end, isn't being present for this new life the best possible present I can give? It doesn't matter at all if he remembers. I'll remember and always be grateful I was here sharing his first Christmas with him.   

Let's Go to the Tape

Any of you have a videotape of yourself interacting with a large group of your peers at a young age? Since watching a group of five-year old classmates being entertained by a magician at a birthday party, I've been wondering how the behavior of five-year old Pat would have compared to the children I observed closely that day. Would I have been ...

* Holding tightly to my mother's leg, never joining the other kids on the blanket?

* Sitting in the middle of the group most of the hour, close enough to interact with either the other kids or the magician?

* Standing so close to the magician for most of her performance that she had to maneuver around me at times? 

* Spending some time up front, some in the middle, some in the back, seated at some times, standing at others, running around joyfully at still others?

Putting aside common variables that have might have had an impact on some of the children as I observed them - their mood that day, the magician's vibe, how close by parents stood - isn't it still reasonable to say I was watching an early version of each of these little people? And if that is so, how cool would it be to have a videotape of a similar moment from your early life? Or why not invent the videotape? What is that early version of you doing?     

 

Reading Re-Cap: 2024

For this 8th iteration, I had to make some adjustments to the headings I've used since the inception of this series in 2018. First off, no novel I finished this past year that is worth recommending felt like a good fit with the word casual.  And because each of the seven novels I'd previously recommended to casual readers were so uniformly excellent, I chose not to cheapen the heading this year with something not worth the time. I look forward to returning to it next December.     

This year also has the first-ever * attached to novel most likely to be recommended to discerning readers and - as you'll see below - I cited the same title for two headings - most intriguing and most personally useful. In earlier years each of those headings had their own book. All that aside, ignore my headings if you wish when you offer your own 2024 reading re-cap. I've been pleased when readers of my blog have sought out books from either my re-caps or titles offered by others as a comment on this post in years past. 

Novel* most likely to be recommended to discerning readers: James - Percival Everett (2024)  

Reflections From The Bell Curve: James  

I attached that asterisk because after finishing Claire Keegan's Foster a few weeks back, I thought that book would inch past James for this heading this year. But technically, Foster is a novella. Do yourself a favor, discerning readers; read both, soon. 

Novel and non-fiction that most deepened my experience of living: Heaven and Earth Grocery Store - James McBride (2023); The Splendid and the Vile - Erik Larson (2020)

Most worthwhile re-read: The Remains of the Day - Kazuo Ishiguro (1989)

Most intriguing AND Most personally useful: You're Not Listening - Kate Murphy (2019)

As always, I reserve the right to make an adjustment to this re-cap if anything I finish over the next twelve days surpasses any of the titles above for their respective headings. Given TC Boyle, Elizabeth Strout, and Colson Whitehead are among the authors in my current queue, don't take any bets on this being the final final word. Most of all, I look forward to hearing your re-cap. Bookworms unite!  

A Friendship Nourished by Music

Aside from those in your family of origin, which relationship in your life has the oldest roots? What has helped to nourish those roots? 

Bob and I started kindergarten together in 1954. We remained schoolmates and on/off friends through grammar school and junior high. Beginning in 1964, when he drafted me to learn drums to complete the band he'd started, we were virtually inseparable until graduation from Irvington High in 1967.

In our sophomore year of college - me at Newark State, him at Seton Hall - I turned the musical draft around, asking him to round out a group I'd formed as a freshman. The three-part harmony he heard in my trio sealed the deal; we were joined at the musical hip again until spring of senior year, 1971.  

Although each of us knew what the other was up to, young adult life separated us until the mid-80s. In an odd coincidence, it turned out we'd each bought homes less than a mile from one another. After we discovered the proximity, our musical bond helped re-ignite our dormant friendship. We began following a smoking ten-piece band for years. Next: Starting our own families - quite a bit later than most of our peers - and a longer break, except for holiday cards.   

The final movement in this lifelong symphony began over ten years ago, soon after I stopped working full time. Thank you, Facebook. For the last few years, our distance from each other has made regular face-to-face contact more challenging. But not long after having lunch together last month, it dawned on me that my relationship with Bob had now entered its eighth decade. Those long periods without contact apparently did little damage to our strong and enduring roots, which have been continually nourished by the most ancient of the arts, music.   

Making the Effort

I'm comfortable asserting that there are few things guaranteed to make a more positive impression than folks who remember our name after meeting us just one time. Ever stopped to consider why such a simple thing as hearing someone you hardly know use your name has such an outsized impact on you? 

Spending lots of time with my new grandson these last weeks has fortified my resolve to continue being that person who works diligently at remembering names. How many times in our early lives do we hear our names said by the people caring for us? Take a moment and think about the imprint our names make on each of us during infancy. Then think about the way you feel when someone new to you uses your name. 

Nourishment, sleep, and touch help us thrive. I'm currently re-experiencing how critical each of these elements are in a new life. I submit that hearing our name satisfies another primal need in all of us, for all our lives. And knowing another person made an effort to remember our name makes that person stand apart from those who don't. 

Reflections From The Bell Curve: That Name Thing

#73: The Mt. Rushmore Series

For this latest iteration in my most prolific series, I'd like to hear nominations for films that - in your view - best portray fraying or highly dysfunctional marriages. Movie junkies should have little trouble offering up four. The rest of you, please weigh in with at least one or two. 

One qualifier: Try to avoid using any film marriage coming apart for the most obvious reason, the death of a child. Because as great as Ordinary People and Manchester by the Sea are, I'd like you to instead try to recall movies that accurately depict the nitty-gritty of married life, i.e., day-to-day life together, flaws and all. My mountain is listed chronologically by release date of film. Construct yours however you wish. 

1.) Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? (1966): In my view, Mike Nichols's adaptation of the eponymous Edward Albee play set the standard for this type of movie almost a half-century ago. I've often wondered if the tempestuous real-life marriage of Elizabeth Taylor and Richard Burton helped fuel their explosive performances in this groundbreaking film.  

2.) Another Woman (1988): Woody Allen has explored the fraught terrain of marriage several times over his long and controversial career. For my money, this gem - anchored by an extraordinary Gena Rowlands turn - is the best of the bunch. And in the smarmy husband sweepstakes, few have ever surpassed Ian Holm. 

3.) Revolutionary Road (2008): It took forty-seven years for someone to convert this coruscating Richard Yates novel into a movie. What I appreciated about this brave adaptation was how director Sam Mendes and screenwriter Justin Haythe didn't take sides. Leo De Caprio and Kate Winslet emerge as equally flawed and human in this difficult-to-watch, brilliant film. 

4.) Marriage Story (2019): In order to avoid duplicating directors on my monument, I picked this Noah Baumbach film over its near equal, The Squid and the Whale (2003). Tough choice; both movies are close to perfect. In the end, the later film got enshrined on the strength of the climactic fight scene between Adam Driver and Scarlett Johansson. The intensity and complete believability of that scene is seared into my memory. 

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Two To Zero (So Far)

p.s. Thanks to my film-loving daughter for suggesting a post like this to me several months ago. In the end, the subject was a perfect fit for Mt. Rushmore. Would be sweet if a few people - especially you, sweetheart - chimed in today.       

Talking to Strangers

Although all the Malcolm Gladwell books I've read previously have enriched me in some way, I suspect Talking to Strangers (2019) will linger with me longest. Which book by this influential contemporary essayist has had a similar impact on you?

Gladwell uses the Sandra Bland tragedy to bookend his persuasive argument that the way we human beings draw conclusions about people we don't know is deeply flawed. His scrupulous deconstruction of the Jerry Sandusky scandal helped me see how hastily I condemned some of the collateral players in that notorious case. A similar aha arrived when Gladwell assisted me to see shades of gray in the infamous Stanford rape case involving Brock Turner and "Emily Doe", who later identified herself as Chanel Miller in her memoir entitled Know My Name.

Reflections From The Bell Curve: Remember Her Name

I'm still more inclined to sympathize with Miller's plight than I am with Turner's damaged reputation. But thanks to Gladwell, the Sandusky & Miller cases, Neville Chamberlain's pacifying of Hitler, and officer Brian Encina's tragic misreading of Sandra Bland's defiance are all filed now in a more nuanced portion of my brain. 

Upon finishing, I frequently ask myself how I benefitted - as a reader, as an aspiring writer, or as a thinker - by spending time with a book. Talking to Strangers spoke to me across all three of those dimensions. What recently finished book landed that way with you? 

    

The Continuing Search for Holden Caulfield

Of all the characters created in 20th century fiction, Holden Caulfield has to be among the most memorable. Holden's unique voice in JD Salinger's Catcher in the Rye captured the alienation many of us feel during the awkward years of adolescence.

Catcher in the Rye has remained popular since its publication in 1951. But Salinger would not allow any of his books to be adapted to film, meaning Holden has never been represented on the screen. This film geek has lost count of how many times he's cast Holden in the never-made movie. Although not a good fit ethnically, Sal Mineo has stayed in my mind for this iconic part among actors who came of age in the 50's. Which actor do you see as Holden from the decade in which Catcher in the Rye was published?    

Can't envision an actor from the 50s you say? How about the 60s then? Of late, my wife's vision of Dustin Hoffman has struck me as a better fit than the previous 60s actor I'd pictured. Hoffman is more ethnically accurate than Sal Mineo and, like Mineo, about the right height as I've always imagined Holden. But now it's your turn. How about an actor who came of age in each subsequent decade since Holden's creation? You've still got the 70s, 80s, 90s, 00s, 10s, and now the 20s to work with and yes, before you ask, I've got someone in my mind's eye from each of those decades. But right this moment I'd rather hear from the aspiring casting directors among you. Is your couch ready?  

p.s. I have envisioned a contemporary actor, less ethnic than either Mineo or Hoffman that might be right. One issue with Timothee Chalamet portraying Holden Caulfield is that Timothee is just a little too pretty. But he'll do until someone takes his place in my imagination. Or until one of you suggests an alternative.  

Home Away from Home with a Genius

Our imminent trip to be with my new grandson in L.A. will end up being the longest period my wife and I have spent away from home since our cross-country driving trip in 2000. Although I suspect it will not be the case, should you detect a different vibe across my next several posts, just assume the fabled Southern California mellow has me in its temporary grip. Don't worry; I'll be back to my cranky East Coast self by the time the ball drops to greet 2025. Actually, I think I'm immune to mellow.  

In the meanwhile, my daughter has reserved a pile of books for me through the L.A. library system, my son-in-law's guitar awaits my nimble fingers, my grandson's continuing musical education is ready to be resumed in earnest. Though I plan to avoid excess gushing about this particular two-month-old during the time spent in my home away from home, I offer no guarantees. Consequently, if you decide to tune out my December reflections, I won't take it personally. Just don't expect me to listen to any future crowing you make about your grandchildren. 

In addition, skipping upcoming dispatches from the bell curve means you could miss out on knowing the prodigy's first spoken words, in several languages. And soon after, when I post the first YouTube video of him playing the Chopin etudes, you'll wish you'd been paying closer attention. Just saying.