The Grouchy Editor

by Susan Faludi

As I read Susan Faludi’s (Backlash) depressing opus about the “crisis” in American manhood, I kept changing my opinion of its author.  At times I wanted to laud Faludi for her insightful reporting – and sometimes I wanted to throttle her for general cluelessness.  As a former journalist, I appreciate the sheer amount of legwork that went into her book.  She interviewed scores of men, from construction workers to porn stars, and much of her analysis is thoughtful.   But occasionally Faludi adopts the tone of a victor perched atop the pedestal of feminism, sitting subtly and condescendingly in judgment of pitiful males.

Random thoughts: 

• Faludi’s conclusion is that most American men are unhappy (and resistant to feminism) because their fathers – those heroes of World War II and members of the “greatest generation” – were cold, distant, and silent parents, providing little or no guidance to boys growing up in a consumer culture that rewards image over true worth.  I’m sure there is some truth to this theory.  But what about all of the mothers – do they make no impact on their sons?  Other than in passing, Faludi makes no mention of the mothers.
• Feminism, like motherhood, gets a pass from Faludi as a contributing factor to modern male distress.  Men who criticize any aspect of the women’s movement are unreasonable, delusional, or scapegoating.  Yet I was struck by this assessment of feminism by one of the men Faludi interviewed:  “It doesn’t seem to have made anyone very happy.”
• I’m not convinced that the average American male is quite as tormented as Faludi would have us believe.  But a 600-page volume of interviews with men who are generally content would be an awfully dull read.
• Faludi’s final words of advice to men who are unhappy or confused by our Brave New World?  “Wage a battle against no enemy.”  Great.  That helps.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

                                                    by John W. Campbell                                                              

This is why, in some literary circles, science-fiction gets so little respect.  Campbell had a great idea – malevolent, alien life force, frozen in Antarctica for millennia, is thawed by a small group of unwitting scientists – and he put his pen to paper.  But Campbell had one problem:  He could not write.  Let me rephrase that:  Campbell writes abominably.  He never uses an adjective when two or three will do, he indulges in hyperbole, and he garbles grammar.  Huge chunks of the novella are incomprehensible.  I have no idea how Who Goes There? found a publisher, but I can see why Hollywood found it attractive.  Campbell’s premise was one that filmmakers could build upon – and improve with very little effort (The Thing movies are based on this story).  Yes, in this case, the movies really are better than the book.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

                                                     by Mary Roberts Rinehart                                                              

I keep asking myself why Agatha Christie became a household name while Rinehart – an author quite similar to Christie – has faded into obscurity.  I think the answer might be that Rinehart, unlike her British contemporary, never created a charismatic, recurring protagonist.  Her books have no Poirot, no Miss Marple, no hero to capture the public’s fancy.  At any rate, The Window at the White Cat is vintage fun from the American writer.  One thing I’ve learned:  It’s never safe to put out the lights and go to bed in a Rinehart mystery, because someone is always breaking into your house.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

by Michael Pollan

For the most part, Pollan pulls off a neat trick.  He turns a book about feed corn, fungi, and fertilizer into a compelling page-turner – but only for about two-thirds of its length.  At a certain point, his chapters become detail-heavy and repetitive, with endless stretches of tedious facts interrupted by short bursts of unpleasantness.  Pollan is a gustatory George Plimpton – sometimes humorous, sometimes snobbish – but his book is simply too long.

The “omnivore’s dilemma” is this:  deciding what to eat that is best for the mind, body, and soul.  After reading Pollan’s descriptions of the horrors to be found at America’s slaughterhouses and processing plants, it’s tempting to eat nothing at all and opt for starvation.  In America, there are too many consumers and too much money to be made by mass producing our food in less-than-ideal conditions.  (Becoming a vegetarian or vegan does little to change our entrenched system, and it turns out that “organic” franchises like Whole Foods are nearly as ecologically unfriendly as Walmart.)

So … what is the solution to the omnivore’s dilemma?  Unfortunately, there doesn’t seem to be an easy answer – not if we don’t want to starve to death.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

by Bob McCabe

A real treat for fans, Harry Potter: Page to Screen boasts hundreds of full-color, glossy photos from the creative minds responsible for the eight Potter film adaptations.  That’s the good news.  The not-so-good news:  The accompanying text, although detail-heavy, is a bit bland and what you might expect from the Warner Bros. publicity department – every actor is “wonderful to work with” and “an amazing talent.”  Every director is “brilliant” and “understanding.”  What – in ten years of moviemaking there was no friction on the set?  But this is primarily a picture-book and, although print photography can’t match the clarity of high-definition TVs and computers, there’s still something magical about holding a book like this in your hands.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

by Ann Patchett

Story:  A doctor is dispatched to South America to learn what she can about a potentially groundbreaking drug – and also the mysterious death of a treasured colleague.

Good:  Patchett is a gifted storyteller. The steaming, swarming Amazon and its menagerie of snakes, cannibals, and other perils seem very real.

Not So Good:  The plot includes some hefty leaps of faith. Why on earth would a pharmaceutical company send the heroine – an “indoor girl” if ever there was one, and certainly no Indiana Jones – on such a hazardous mission into the wilds of Brazil?

Good:  Two themes are intriguing: 1) If an American company discovers the cure for a disease, but can expect little or no monetary gain, is it obligated to persevere for the benefit of third-world countries? 2) Should women well into their 40s – and older – have the right to reproduce, assuming it becomes possible?

Not So Good:  The novel is poorly edited. It’s littered with unclear passages and ambivalent pronouns.

Good:  In domineering “Dr. Swenson,” Patchett creates a true original, an older woman who suffers no fools and delivers an endless supply of amusing quips.

Not So Good:  Most of the other characters, including the heroine and her lover, the ludicrously titled “Mr. Fox,” are flat.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

                                                        by Charles Dickens                                                                 

Crabby criticisms of a beloved book

Admit it:  The world would be a better place if more people were like pre-ghost Ebenezer Scrooge, a cantankerous old coot who nevertheless kept to himself and contributed to society, rather than like post-ghost Scrooge, a giddy imbecile who ran amok, imposing himself on friends and foes alike.  What an unbearable world it would be if all 7 billion of us went about like the “new and improved” Scrooge – foisting turkeys on each other, barging into family dinners, and frightening small children.

But seriously … I think Dickens is so enduring because his characters and dialogue still sparkle in the 21st century.  Dickens’ stories – like that of Ebenezer Scrooge – are often sentimental and overblown – but oh, such memorable people!  I suppose it says more about me than about Dickens, but I prefer his later, darker works (Great Expectations, A Tale of Two Cities) to early, syrupy Dickens (Oliver Twist, A Christmas Carol).

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

by Stephen King

Musings:  1) Needful Things was published shortly after King gave up drinking and doping, which coincides with the decline of his most creative period.  I don’t believe it can be happenstance – the man was simply a more inspired, original writer back when he was snorting and swigging.  2) Needful Things is middling King.  It’s well-crafted, often amusing, and laugh-out-loud funny near the climax.  It’s also over-the-top, alternately too somber or too silly, and not particularly scary.  3) The knight-in-shining-armor hero and his perfect girlfriend are the least interesting characters in the story – too bad we have to spend so much time with them.  4) I do like King’s theme about how our possessions tend to take possession of us.

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

                                                              by Philip K. Dick

There are reasons I’m not a big fan of most science fiction.  Ubik, by sci-fi legend Philip K. Dick, is a case in point.  Dick’s futuristic tale of life-after-death and alternate universes has some fascinating ideas and some amusing situations – but it also has paper-thin characters and dialogue, and clunky prose.  I can deal with fantasy leaps of logic when they are served up by an H. G. Wells, but Dick was no H.G. Wells.

When I finished Ubik, I felt much the same way that Dick’s main character does in mid-story: “Very confusing, Joe Chip said to himself.  He did not like it at all.  Granted it had a satisfying symmetrical quality, but on the other hand, it struck him as untidy.”

© 2010-2026 grouchyeditor.com (text only)

by Nora Ephron

“I would rather have you laugh at me than feel sorry for me.”  So writes Ephron at the end of Heartburn, her 1983 autobiographical novel about the breakup of her marriage to journalist Carl Bernstein.  Funny, clever, and ever self-deprecating, Ephron’s humor does indeed cover up any traces of self-pity.  She has the humorist’s gift for seeing ordinary incidents in extraordinary ways, and then putting that vision on paper.  This is Ephron describing an embrace with her housekeeper:  “Juanita gave me a big hug, which was awkward since she was only about four feet six inches tall, and a hug from her felt like the Heimlich maneuver.”  Good stuff, that, but the book is also more than a bit sad.

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