Books I loved in 2006 (and if you choose to click through and buy any of these, you’re supporting the site — and thank you!)

• The Road by Cormac McCarthy
• Everyman by Phillip Roth (a brilliant meditation on a life lived and died; not previously cited on this blog, but it should have been)
• Team of Rivals: The Political Genius of Abraham Lincoln by Doris Kearns Goodwin
• Drop City by T.C. Boyle (and yes, it didn’t come out this year, but I read it this year).

I read something like 30 or 40 more books this year, but I can’t name one of them offhand. (Except the two I didn’t like:  World War Z and Brooklyn Follies, the first Pau Auster novel I wasn’t glad to be reading.)

Seemingly, all 5900 of the magazines and websites I read are doing their annual “best of” and “worst of” lists. I briefly considered doing a “best and worst of the best and worst of lists,” but given how similar all the lists are, I couldn’t see the reason to do it other than sheer puckishness. And if I’m going to invest that much time in puckishness, I’d rather do it on my new play.

I also couldn’t see any reason to compile my own best-of and worst-of list. Who would act on it? Probably no one. So it would be either a pointless gesture or time spent in ego self-gratification. And if I’m going to do that, I’d rather do it in my new play.

In the interest of economy of my time and yours, I’m just going to plug a few things from 2006 that I feel strongly about and leave it at that — until I get to the final post in this series, the list I’ve decided to actually compile each year.

Some say it’s The New Yorker (and actually, it seems to be The New Yorker that says that). I’m thinking it’s Cracked.

When I was a kid, Cracked was the lame humor magazine you read only if you were bored and somebody had left it behind, or if Mad was sold out, or if you’d already Mad. And once you outgrew Mad, while you might think fondly back onto it, you’d never even recall that Cracked existed.
No more. An old fan (a lawyer, to boot!) bought the magazine, quit the lawyering gig, and has relaunched it as something fresh and funny. Whereas the magazine was once written by failed advertising men, now it’s written by writers for The Simpsons and Comedy Central. Y’know: funny people. I keep it at my office and young or old, everyone who comes to visit me busts a gut laughing. (And at the magazine, as well.)

Click here to subscribe to Cracked. You’ll be glad you did. It’s just twelve measley bucks and your local mail carrier — especially the one I know personally — will look at you with new admiration. And isn’t that what we all want, to be admired by the mail carrier?

I think this is just rip-snortingly funny. And yes, I will be buying the inevitable CD. (The ringtone is already available!)

I’m rewatching Season One of Rome, this time with elder son Lex, to bring him up to date so that we can watch the second season together. We’d both rather still be watching The Wire, but we’ll have to wait another year for new episodes.

The second episode of “Rome” tonight got me thinking about focus — because in one scene I couldn’t help noticing where it wasn’t.

Legionnaire Lucius Vorenus has just returned from eight years of serving Caesar in an endless war in Gaul. He has barely reacquainted himself with his wife, Niobe (pictured above), when he has to sit in adjudication over a young herder petitioning to marry his 13-year-old daughter. Camera shots ricochet between the beleaguered young man and the unhappy father, who isn’t pleased by the notion of his daughter marrying a drover whose family lives in a house formed from cattle dung. Ultimately, though, he agrees.

And then comes what’s missing: A reaction shot from the daughter, who so ardently wants this man. So why don’t we have it? And why, instead, do we have a reaction shot of a clearly thrilled Niobe?

Because, as this storyline develops, the daughter and her intended aren’t that important. This scene is part of a story being developed about Vorenus and Niobe, which ends the season in a tragic twist. We’re in on the secret; Vorenus is not. Judging by the end product, I take it on faith that the editor (as well as, clearly, the writer and director) knows that Niobe is the point and not her daughter, and that’s why Niobe gets the reaction shot.

My chosen medium is the theatre. While we don’t have a camera, the issue of focus is always important. Good stage movement (blocking) does more than just get actors to where they have to be; good stage movement is also motivated by characters’ desires, and doesn’t steal focus from the principle figure in the scene.

It’s the same with writing the scene. If too many characters come in all at once, or too many different topics are raised, or inappropriate stage business pulls the eye, there’s no way to focus the audience’s attention. Chaos erupts. The human brain demands focus so that it can make sense of all the information flooding it. Without that focusing process, the unfiltered data would overwhelm us. That’s called confusion.

If as an audience member you pay attention to what you’re supposed to, you should be able to follow the story. If you stop to think about what you’re not supposed to be focusing on, you can see the man holding the puppet’s strings. Lex wondered how I saw the twist ending of “The Prestige” coming. It’s because I wondered why, when the one magician’s accomplice was a major character, we were never formally introduced to the other magician’s collaborator even though he was shown in many scenes — and once I asked that question, I knew the answer: Because we weren’t supposed to be.

Directors direct the actors. Writers use focus to direct the audience.

And while I’m on the topic — Churchill never would’ve stood for this:

From MSNBC.com:

Scottish soldiers forced to share kilts for now

Shortage means 1 for every 15 soldiers due to contract snafu

At least each of the Italians gets a uniform to himself.

The other day on my return flight I caught myself looking at my watch and thinking for a moment about the British Empire. (Actually, that was my second thought. My first thought was a variation on “Are we there yet?”)

What got me thinking was how freakin’ huge this watch is. As one online listing says, this “stunning, high quality men’s Fishbone watch is SERIOUSLY CHUNKY!” and has “a mega large round dial (case diamter approx 42mm wide / 12mm thick).”

I know, I know — you don’t want to see the new Rocky movie either.

But you have to give Sylvester Stallone credit for honesty in this interview in Entertainment Weekly. Sure, we know he’s a has-been; what’s refreshing is that he knows it, too, and freely admits it.

This is so rare in Hollywood it would be enough to turn Diogenes into an optimist.

I’ve been seeing this print campaign for Citibank for months now and I can’t decide if this is a strange gay couple, a bizarre father and son, or a master and slave. Maybe all three.

More recently, I’ve decided that this ambiguity is on purpose. We don’t need to know who they are. We don’t need to know the full details of the lad’s suffering. We just need to know that because the depraved squire has a Citi PremierPass credit card, he can do any damn thing he likes.

As a foe of colonialism and slavery, I won’t be getting a Citi PremierPass credit card.

This news bit, which ran in the LA Times, was sent in by my longtime friend Darrell, a fellow thespian and fisherman.

LOS ANGELES — A pedestrian died and at least two other people suffered apparent minor injuries Wednesday in a collision that occurred when a motorist ran a red light, police said.
The accident involving a black pickup truck and another vehicle occurred on westbound Santa Monica Boulevard at Cotner Avenue at 2:35 p.m., said Brian Ballton of the city fire department.
The pedestrian, a 40-year-old man, died at the scene.
Police said the accident was caused when a driver ran a red light and smashed into another vehicle, which spun out of control and hit the pedestrian.
The Department of Water and Power was called because live wires were down, police said.

The pedestrian who died was his friend and fishing buddy Brett. As Darrell says, “It was, apparently, a day in the life of Los Angeles.” Out for a walk one minute, dead the next, leaving behind a wife and small children.

This is a reminder that death lurks around the corner for all of us. Some of us get to see it coming; some of us don’t. But it’s always there.

Be grateful for what you’ve got while you’ve got it.