Showing posts with label Los Angeles. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Los Angeles. Show all posts

Sunday, January 31, 2016

The Sellout

Soooo.... this might just be a book review this year.  But probably not.  Politics is exhausting, Iowa is tomorrow and for all the passion, all the talk of precipice and disaster... I would rather read something.  My law school classmate Richard Dooling recommended this to me.  He knows my tastes and in the first ten pages I admired the authors style... his..."patter".  Beatty immediately establishes a tone and a cadence which separate his prose out from the pack.

I don't know if it s "post Ferguson" book.  I rather doubt it because it is too lovingly scripted to have just come about in the last year and a half.  The story is narrated by a young black man who recalls growing up in urban LA in a town that has since been swallowed up, called "Mitchell".  If this were not odd enough the man's father and then the narrator himself farms land in this urban wasteland and he takes pains to point out through the book, is not a wasteland at all.

The book revels in blackness.  I cannot recall if there is single white character other than perhaps the police who wade in occasionally and with impact.  His father is a self schooled intellectual and an expert on the black struggle who raises his son on books and pop quizzes about America, racism and history and is a great case for the premise that no one impacts a child's upbringing like his or her parents.  His father holds court in the neighborhood with a group of like minded characters at Dum Dum Donuts and they hold forth, big time one another and solve the worlds problems.  This west coast, black Algonquin Round Table features his fathers cohort and nemesis, Foy Chesire who rights blackcentric rewrites of American classic literature. for example, Adventures of Huckleberry Finn becomes “The Pejorative-Free Adventures and Intellectual and Spiritual Journeys of African-American Jim and His Young Protégé, White Brother Huckleberry Finn, as They Go in Search of the Lost Black Family Unit.”  You get the idea.

When the narrators father is "Accidentally" shot by the police he takes on his fathers mantle locally and also has a sidekick who is the narrator's slave named Hominy.  Hominy is the sole surviving "Little Rascal" and he adds sadness, humor and weirdness to an already offbeat story as the narrator attempts to date, surf, recreate the town of Mitchell and re-segregate schools to challenge ALL thoughts on race, racism and the American dream. 

It is a funny book and sad book and above all a well written book which causes people like myself, who have the best intentions, to evaluate where this intentions and instincts come from and whether they are real empathy for the sufferings of others or does that empathy just serve to allow us to maintain the status quo and feel bad about it with our half hearted hearts.  There is nothing half hearted about Beatty's book and it a really good literary read.  It is also an easy read.  Buy it.

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Vacation IV: L.A. Traffic

I have come to really love Southern California. between business and pleasure trips i seem to get out there almost every year and have come to be somewhat awe filled by the fact that you can go from ocean, to mountain, desert to snow in so short of a physical distance. Everywhere you go it is amazing how beautiful the terrain is, and humbling too. I am sure you take it for granted (just as we in St. Louis take for granted the natural beauty of our River Des Peres) when you see it every day but wow... what a cool place.

Until you actually have to get somewhere. The you have to get in your car and get on the road and it is a nightmare. To misquote that great southern philosopher Forest Gump L.A. Highways are like a box of chocolates... you never know what your going to get. Generally what I get is one of those crappy dark chocolate things filled with an unidentifiable nut. That is what I get when I get on the freeway in L.A. If you need to go two blocks...no problem. two miles... no problem. But if you need to go 25 miles... pack a lunch. You might make it in twenty five minutes... it might take three hours. In my time out here this week I was caught in traffic jams at 7:00 Sunday night.... 1:00 Wednesday.... 4:30 PM Wednesday and finally (gratefully) at 10:00 Thanksgiving morning.

There is rarely a rhyme or a reason for this traffic. Just 4 million people in L.A. trying to get around and as far as I can see failing miserably every day. We in St. Louis are lucky to live in a dying, non-vibrant, somewhat backwards midwestern city which we claim “is a great place to raise kids.” If it takes us 45 minutes to get across town at rush hour we feel sorely oppressed. Californians crap bigger traffic delays then that every day of there miserable, car obsessed, polluting lives. Not that I am bitter regarding the huge amounts of Escalades, Explorers, Denalis and other modes of transportation slightly larger then my first house. I would say in the time on the highways I set forth above traffic came to a complete stop over 100 times. It made me feel powerless and angry. Feeling so angry made me question whether I really had ANY mental strength at all but seriously... what a nightmare. I believe it is the randomness of the traffic nightmares I found so infuriating. We know in our town that between 7-8:30 in the morning and between 4:30 and 6:00 at night that there are a lot of people moving too and from work and school. While you know the same thing in L.A. you might also run into an inexplicable jam, with no accident and no highway construction at 11:00 at night. Things like that make daddy nuts.

I do not care how pretty it is. People cannot live this way for an extended period of time. The only theory I can come up with is that these people know that sooner or later they and/or their homes and possessions will be:

1. Swallowed by fire,
2. Swept into the ocean; or
3. Swallowed into the ground by an earthquake

Based on these assumptions they toil on the highways for several hours each day figuring they only have a limited amount of time to suffer here before they have to move back to the midwest. It seems slightly sketchy as a life plan but clearly no one in their right mind could plan to spend the remainder of their life in a beautiful place trapped on a five lane highway with no chance at redemption or of ever getting anywhere in a reasonable amount of time. It may be beautiful but that and 7 bucks will get me a beer at a ball-game. I like to be on time and have control.... or at least the illusion of control over my schedule. You Californians take your beautiful place.... I will take the River Des Peres.