Month: October 2015 (Page 2 of 2)

September Books

I believe I’ve mentioned a time or two (or three) that I spent nearly a month wading through a beast of a book. Now I have to write about said beast. Cripes. The good news (for me at least) is that despite the time spent on that book, I remain at book-a-week pace for the year.

The Woman Who Lost Her Soul – Bob Shacochis
Well, what to write about this book? It zig-zags from 1990s Haiti, to post World War II Yugoslavia, to Cold War era Turkey, back to the 1990s and Haiti, with some guest appearances in the last section by some folks who came to dominate world affairs as we moved into the new millennium.

It’s about a girl and her dad. About the dad and his parents. About the girl, the dad, their religion, their country, and the meaning of family and commitment. About the men who love that girl, through different stages of her life. About the limits of the great, world powers when set up against entrenched, local customs and relationships. And about the limits of our individual influence over the people around us.

Parts of the book were brilliant. Others meandered and became a slog to get through. At the end, while I enjoyed the book, I wondered if it was all worth it. Could the book not have been pared down by 150–200 pages and ended up being an easier, clearer, more satisfying read? I loved most of the geo-political angles Shacochis included. However, there is a lot of sexual violence in the book. It all makes sense as part of the broader story, as a tool to set up why two characters in particular behave the way they behave. But I wondered if we really needed all the rapes.

I’d give the book a qualified endorsement. There’s more good than bad here. But if you need one book to read on a long weekend, or over the holidays, I think there are better choices.

Savage Harvest – Carl Hoffman
After that, I needed something lighter to cleanse my reading palate. So how about a book that begins with a rather graphic description of exactly how the native peoples of present day Indonesian Papua may have killed and eaten Michael Rockefeller in the early 1960s? Sounds like a breezy read to me!

Hoffman looks back at the disappearance of Rockefeller, son of the then governor of New York and future Vice President Nelson Rockefeller, during his travels through then Netherlands New Guinea. The death was never solved, as his body was never found. While the Rockefeller family quickly decided that Michael drowned while attempting to swim to shore after his catamaran capsized, local legend long held that he made it to shore, was captured, killed, and most likely eaten by natives.

Hoffman tells his story three ways.

First, he details Rockefeller’s adventures through the Dutch colony searching for native art to bring back to the Museum of Modern Art in New York. He also provides a detailed look back at the situation in New Guinea at the time. Dutch and American missionaries were working hard to move the indigenous inhabitants of the region away from their traditional spiritual practices, which had long included cannibalism. Just before Rockefeller’s arrival, a Dutch colonial official had presided over a massacre of locals, which created a desire for revenge amongst the New Guineans. At the same time, Indonesia was making a claim on the territories before the United Nations, and the Dutch were working hard to suppress any evidence that they were not capable of governing the region.

Second, Hoffman dug deep into the historical records from the time of Rockefeller’s disappearance. He read Dutch documents that had never been examined during the initial search. He spoke to colonial and church officials who were in New Guinea in the early 1960s.

Biggest of all, Hoffman visited the region twice, traveling through the same areas where Rockefeller disappeared, meeting the inhabitants, attempting to understand their culture, and trying to get them to open up about their knowledge of Rockefeller’s death. While he never gets clear evidence that Rockefeller was killed rather than drowned, he does build a case that Rockefeller most likely died at the hands of the locals.

This is a really interesting book. It’s dark and frustrating, as Hoffman constantly runs into cultural barriers that keep him from every uncovering a definitive explanation for Rockefeller’s death. It’s a unique combination of investigative reporting and a traditional travel journal.

Seven, Again

Last weekend, for the first time since mid-August, we had no cross country meets, no soccer games, no out-of-town guests, no trips to the lake planned. It was nice to have an easy, early fall weekend to sit around and decompress a bit.

Well, we did have one big thing on the calendar: L. turned seven on Saturday!

Thanks to the way the calendar fell, she had an extended birthday. Friday she got to take cupcakes in to school. And it was an early-dismissal Friday, so she got her weekend started a little early. We made a stop at Target and picked up some new Halloween decorations, pulled out the old ones when we got home, and did some decorating.

Saturday was our first cold, ugly day of the fall. L. had selected Chinese takeout for her birthday dinner for at least the past two years. At first she landed on that again for her choice for this year’s meal, but we talked her into Mexican instead. With her local grandparents, a couple aunts, and an uncle we celebrated over tacos and nachos. She picked out bright blue icing for her cake, which was kind of a wacky choice. But it also fit her perfectly.

And then, gift time! She got a set of Avengers action figures, not one but two alarm clocks, a lamp that projects stars onto the ceiling, and a Hot Wheels track. As I type this on Monday night she’s out for her traditional dinner with her Mimi. I believe Red Robin was her choice.

Just as M’s birthdays always leaves me amazed at how quickly the parenthood portion of my life has progressed, when L’s rolls around, I’m amazed at how quickly our baby grew far beyond her baby years. She still seems so little to me in some ways, when in fact she’s well past being a tiny tot. She’s a first grader, for crying out loud!

L. is our most consistent kid. She does occasionally have moods. But for the most part she’s endlessly enthusiastic about things. She loves school; she’s been acing all her early spelling and math tests and often gets her homework done on her own right after school. Some of that is because she also can’t wait to go do something active. She’s always asking to throw the football or baseball, or go shoot hoops, or practice soccer. Or just asks me to time her as she runs from one end of the yard to the other. She brags about how she’s the only girl who will play soccer with the second grade boys at recess. And after practicing with M’s kickball team this fall, I know she can’t wait until spring of her third grade year when she can play for real. Her wardrobe choices reflect her active nature. When she’s not in her school uniform, she wears old soccer jerseys about 85% of the time. It’s nice to have two big sisters who played for several years and passed down all of theirs.

She’s the biggest goofball of the three girls. A lot of that comes from being the youngest and having that tendency/need to entertain. While her sisters messing with her can cause her to get angry, she’s generally lighthearted about all things. When she gets together with friends from school or soccer, it’s all giggles all the time.

I always find it interesting to see what traits from my personality show up in my girls. With L., I see a lot of my independent nature. While she generally plays pretty well with her sisters, she’s the most likely kid to go play on her own. She’ll shut her door and you’ll hear her jabbering away as she plays with her toys. When M. goes off by herself, it’s usually to read. C. will go work on an art project or some other creation on her own. But L. going to play on her own? That was me when I was little. Granted, in my case it was because there were no siblings around. Still there’s that contentment with being alone that is not as evident in her sisters.

She’s not perfect; no kid is. She can be bossy like her biggest sister. She can overreact to sisterly shunnings, like the middle sister. But most of the time she’s a ton of fun to be around. She’s smart, funny, and kind. Like her sisters, we are proud of the little lady that she’s become.

Friday Vid

“Laced” – DMA’s

A rather goofy video, that really isn’t worth watching, for a pretty spectacular song. In fact, just hide this window while the song is playing and enjoy the sounds.

DMA’s take a little Arctic Monkeys, some Oasis, and a heavy dose of classic Australian jangle-pop, and end up with some often gorgeous, if derivative, music.

1989 X 2

I’ve kicked this around for nearly two weeks, so I suppose it’s time to finally convert the thoughts into text. I would not call this an album review proper, but rather a few musings about Ryan Adams’ cover of Taylor Swift’s 1989.


Ryan Adams is no stranger to covering other people’s music. His set lists are peppered with songs from other artists. He recorded one of the greatest covers of all time, a song so good even the man who wrote it affirmed that it now belongs to Adams.

Still, it’s one thing to cover a song. It’s something else to take another artist’s entire album and cover it, front-to-back. But if you’re going to tackle that challenge, you might as well attempt to summit Everest. Regardless of quality, Adams’ effort to cover one of the biggest pop albums of the digital era – while it is still charting singles – is brash, audacious, ballsy, outrageous, etc. etc. etc. Depending on your view of the two artists involved, it could also be labelled as cynical, opportunistic, or straight thieving.

My quick review of Adams’ version is it’s very good. There are some huge high points. There are a couple songs I skip past. Whether it is coincidental or intentional, I find his versions of the songs that have not (yet) been released as singles by Swift to be the best. Where the originals are firmly rooted in the shiny, heavily produced pop of her birth year, Adams moves many of the songs back another 4–5 years and taps into the Heartland Rock sound he explored so well on his self-titled album from last year.

Two big things stuck out to me about Adams’ version:

1 – Perspective is everything in music.
Taylor Swift’s songs are about her romantic failures and insecurities. But when you spin her version of 1989, you’re not left feeling down, drained, or pessimistic. Throwing those lyrics over shimmery, synthesized pop changes the way we interpret her words. Yes, she’s been hurt. Yes, she wonders why her relationships don’t last, why she keeps making the same mistakes, why she can’t find The guy. But she’s also 25 and optimistic. For all those fears, she believes that, eventually, she will find the answers and happiness will follow.

Adding to these feelings are the subtext in so many of the songs. Taylor is often making fun of herself and her image, and offering light-hearted, yet pointed, rejoinders to those who have criticized her personal life. The emotions in the words are serious, but she’s reminding us not to take them too seriously.

When Adams sings these songs, though, the mood changes completely. It’s not just because he removes almost all the synthesizers and keeps the arrangements as simple guitar-organ-drum compositions. Or that he’s mimicking the sounds of The Boss, Bono, and Morrissey. The difference comes because he’s almost 41, newly divorced, and looking at the world from a completely different vantage point than Swift.

A breakup can be traumatic, but there’s also a fleeting nature about dating that allows you to move on quicker. Swift’s songs are ultimately optimistic about her future. Adams, dealing with the broader emotional scars a divorce leaves, sings these songs with a weariness and acceptance that his life is fundamentally changed. I don’t think he strips the songs of all their hopefulness, but he masks it behind the realization that even if he falls in love again, it’s never going to feel like it felt when we was 25.

Yes, the music is different. But the biggest contrasts in these albums comes from where each artist is in their life.

2 – Taylor Swift’s songs are amazing.
I outed myself as loving “Blank Space” earlier this year. Truth be told, I like an awful lot of Taylor’s 1989. It is filled with absolutely perfect, undeniable pop anthems. There’s no shame in liking them, regardless of what kind of music you generally listen to.

By recording his own muted versions, though, Adams shines a light on just how good her songs are. As I said, some of the impact of her lyrics gets lost in the production beneath the originals. The sense of triumph sometimes masks the pain inside her words. Adams instead focuses on the hurt at the heart of each song. And they still stand strong. The sign of a great song is one that can be recorded by different singers, in different styles, and yet the impact of the lyrics remains strong. That’s certainly the case here, with Adams tapping into a side of Swift’s songs that is not immediately obvious in the originals.


Since Adams’ 1989 came out, I’ve been listening to it a ton. I like it a lot, although I disagree with a few critics who say it’s his best album ever.[1] I’ve also sprinkled in some liberal spins of Taylor’s original. I love the contrast in songs like “Out Of The Woods.” Swift’s original sounds like the best song Roxette never recorded, and could easily be the soundtrack for a girls’ night out. Adams’ song taps into his love for The Smiths and becomes a somber, tear-jerking epic. “All You Had To Do Was Stay,” “I Wish You Would,” and “Style” are equally excellent in very different ways. And Adams, to me, records stronger versions of “Welcome To New York” and “Wildest Dreams.”

If you can ignore the hype behind both albums, if you can get past the polarization both artists elicit among music critics, Adams has delivered a fantastic album. His versions stand up on their own. But he’s also opened a door for many of us who were afraid to fully embrace Swift’s music. And he’s shone a light on just how good of a writer she is.

(Adams performed “Bad Blood” and “Style” on The Daily Show last night. Go to the 14:00 mark if you want to skip the rest of the show.)


  1. I’m far from an Adams completist, but Love Is Hell and Ryan Adams are my favorites. And I CAN NOT WAIT for the double album he says is set for release next year. Where 1989 touched on his post-divorce feelings, that next album is going to wallow in them. And he’s always been at his best when he’s wallowing.  ↩

R’s: Clinchin’

(As I prefer to focus on the many positives, I’ll save my thoughts on the Royals’ September and prospects for October until next week.)

I had a bit of a rough weekend. Some stomach issues. A couple late nights and early mornings. Mid-day naps to counter those. Everything felt a bit off. And I guess it all started Thursday night, when the Royals clinched their first division title since 1985.

When your favorite team hasn’t done something in 30 years, you stay up to enjoy every second of it. Even if it’s a school night. And then you celebrate a bit. As I was drinking a small pour of Redbreast late Thursday/early Friday, I realized I had never seen the Royals clinch a division championship before. I remember the nights they clinched in 1980 and 1985. But that was back in the age when home games were rarely on TV. I believe I was listening on the radio when they clinched in 1980. And in 1985, I know we were watching the late local news because they promised to go straight to the stadium once the game was final.[1] I had seen the Royals clinch playoff series wins, but this was the first time I’d watched them celebrate closing the door on their division rivals. It was a good night, even if it knocked my off-kilter for a few days.

For as much angst as September has generated within the Royals fanbase, I’ve preferred to enjoy what has perhaps been the best summer of baseball I’ve lived through. The last two years, the Royals were hot-and-cold. They faded badly late in 2003. 1994 was all about their late hot stretch. As much as I enjoyed the “Magic Kingdom” summer of 1989, I went off to college in late August and tuned out for the last six weeks or so of that season. In 1985, the Royals were pretty mediocre until mid-August. I suppose I can count 1980, but since we moved to Kansas City in mid-July, I wasn’t really fully immersed in the team until then.

Thus, this has been the first time in my 30-plus years as a baseball fan that the team I follow has been good from Opening Day through the entire summer. Well, almost the entire summer. Even with the late swoon, they were so far ahead that there was never any drama about whether they would make the playoffs.

There’s something special about winning your division in baseball. It goes back to the days of two leagues and a direct path to the World Series. In baseball, there has always been a different level of reverence for what was accomplished over 162 games compared to how other sports value their regular seasons. That’s true even in the Wild Card era, and I believe true baseball fans draw a clean line between regular season excellence and the vagaries of the postseason. An early playoff exit will suck, but because of the length of the regular season, I don’t think those accomplishments get completely wiped out. As compared to college basketball, for example, where a 30-plus season is often forgotten if you lose to a team with the wrong seed in the first weekend of the tournament.

Or at least that’s the way I view the baseball season. So I’ve worked hard to enjoy this season without worrying about what happens next.

It’s been so much fun to watch Lorenzo Cain blossom into an absolute star this year. He’s the most complete player the Royals have had since Carlos Beltran’s days in KC. As KC Star beat writer Andy McCullough often says, it’s an absolute joy to watch Cain play.

Eric Hosmer may never be the super-duper star some expected him to be. But this year he put together his most consistent season. When he was hot, he was white-hot and nearly impossible to pitch to. If he can turn those 14–17 day slumps into ones that last just a week, super-duper stardom could still be in his future.

The coolest individual aspect of this season was watching Mike Moustakas reinvent himself. He learned how to use what the pitcher and defense were doing to him to his advantage. He learned patience and humility. He managed to do all that without losing his power. Most importantly, he learned how to adjust when the league adjusted to him. His development made the team so much better.

I enjoyed Kendrys Morales reviving his career and being a positive influence on the rest of the team every day.

Alex Gordon added another set of highlights to his long, career list of them. When he went down with an injury that cost him six weeks in early July, it seemed like a huge moment for the team. They roared through those six weeks. Now if he can just get hot for the playoffs.

Salvador Perez, Alcides Escobar, and Omar Infante each made unforgettable plays in the field.

Yordano Ventura was maddening early, rallied in the middle, and looked awesome late. Perhaps the growing pains of the first half were what he needed to finally put it all together and develop into the #1 guy he’s capable of being.

Edinson Volquez steadied the rotation through so many rough patches over the first five months of the year.

The bullpen wasn’t nearly as dominant as the past two years. Much of that was because Greg Holland pitched with a torn elbow all year. Wade Davis battled an injury in August, but was still awfully damn good most of the year. He provided one of the highlights of the year, his strikeout of Andrew McCutchen in late July, when his follow-through transitioned straight into his walk to the dugout on strike three.

Ryan Madsen, Joe Blanton, Chris Young, and Kris Medlen were all scrap heap players that played huge roles. Madsen is now in the prime, late inning trio of relievers. Young and or Medlen could get postseason starts. And Blanton is gone, but he pitched two wonderful games in May when the division race was still close.

For the first five months of the year, there was never a bad week. There was never a long losing streak. I knew when I watched my 4–5 games each week I would, most likely, see good baseball. When the games were in Kansas City, I’d see full, loud crowds and occasionally friends sitting in great seats. When at the lake for the weekend, I would usually wake to a good result and read back through accounts of the game as I drank my coffee.

The team did that with its Opening Day pitcher starting two near brawls, getting suspended, and being sent to the minors for a day. With it’s #2 starter being wildly inconsistent and eventually sent to the bullpen for the playoffs. The #4 starter spending two stints on the DL and only starting nine games before his elbow finally gave out in July. And the #5 starter battled but finally turned into a pumpkin as the season (and his career?) wound down. Infante never hit. Perez was streaky as ever. Escobar regressed terribly at the plate. Alex Rios made people thankful he signed just a one-year contract.

Through all that they ran away and hid with the division. Sure, Detroit got old fast, Cleveland couldn’t hit or play defense, and Chicago didn’t come close to getting a decent return on its off-season investments. It was left to Minnesota, who are at least a year too young, to be the closest challengers to the Royals. And after early July, they were well back in the rearview mirror. So the Royals got a lot of help in their division. But they took advantage of the opening and played as well as any team in baseball until September began. There’s no need to apologize for their performance.

For so long my only baseball wish was that the Royals be competitive. They gave me a little of that with a hot six-week stretch in late 2013 that kept them in the Wild Card race until the final week of the season. Another hot second half last year resulted in their epic playoff run. And now they gave me the 2015 season. One in which they were never under .500. One in which they were never more than a game out of first place. One in which they were in first place over 140 days. One in which they spent the last three months of the season looking back at the rest of the division. One in which they sent seven players to the All-Star game.

The playoffs will be a crapshoot, no matter how many games the Royals won in the regular season or how hot/cold they are playing when the ALDS kicks off next Thursday. Regardless of what happens against Texas or Houston or the Angels, or Toronto or New York, or an eventual/potential World Series opponent, this has been a fantastic summer of baseball. It would be nice to be a Cardinals fan, where every summer is like this. But that fact that not every summer is like this made it a little more special.


  1. I have no memory of when the Royals clinched in 1984. And some basic searching makes me think they clinched against the Angels in the next-to-last series of the season, although I’m not certain about that.  ↩
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