Appinion: "Angry Birds"

When pigs run afoul of these feathered foes, all you-know-what breaks loose.

So long, solitaire! Farewell, FreeCell! There's a new kind of evil in town, and it's called "Angry Birds." This top-rated application for the iPhone/iPod Touch is a cross between addictive puzzle games like "Snood" or "Tetris" and "Gorillas"—that ancient DOS game where you vanquished your foe with well-aimed exploding bananas.

This time, however, you're flinging furious fowl at green, gloating pig heads. The birds are in a tizzy because porcine villains have taken their eggs, and your job is to go get them some justice. In each cleverly and cartoonishly drawn puzzle level, you are confronted with a number of pig heads winking and smiling among a variety of obstacles. All you have to do is aim your preloaded slingshot, let the birds fly at their foes, then watch the pigs poof into points.

This is easier said than done, of course. But the clever creators have mixed up the difficulty levels so that the puzzles are not always progressively challenging. Sometimes, I'll be stuck on a level for a day or two; the next evening, I can blow through 10 levels in no time. This keeps me from getting loser's fatigue, and I sincerely appreciate it. After all, it's already a losing proposition to spend hours at a time on a silly game—at least, this one gives me the happy victory song I crave more than once every three days!

To keep the game interesting throughout the seemingly infinite number of levels, you aren't just aiming the same bird. Instead, there are a handful of bird types, each with different "talents." One can drop bombs. One is a bomb. One is speedy and strong. One is weak but can shatter glass in triplicate. And one is, well, red. You're armed with different combinations and numbers of birds for each level. The trick is to use each one wisely to clear the course.

The upshot? "Angry Birds" is a stroke of evil genius. The good news is it's hard to imagine a more perfect game for the iPod Touch—it sets the bar high. The bad news is that it is so wildly successful, a barrage of homages can't be far behind. We professional procrastinators will have our work cut out for us to stay one step ahead of the games coming our way!



Angry Birds: *****

New Blog

It's been a while since I've been here, although I plan to post something soon. After all, I've seen more movies than ever lately, and I've actually read some books that I like, which means that I don't have to torture you with long, enraged passages about books that I hate (see the last post) anymore.

In the meantime, please check out this new blog, which chronicles my pathetic attempts at guitaring.

Book Beat: South of Broad

"Broad" is the word for Pat Conroy's latest novel.

There's something inherently likable about Leopold Bloom King, the 18-year-old hero of South of Broad by Pat Conroy (who also wrote Prince of Tides). He's a kind, well-meaning kid with a sarcastic sense of humor and a deep, dark past that includes juvenile probation for cocaine possession and stints in mental institutions after his older brother committed suicide at the young age of 10. The story begins just as Leo is finally turning his life around. He's got a paper route, his probation is almost over, he's starting his senior year, and for once, he's going to be a normal teenager. Or so he thinks.

His parents, anxious that Leo's days are busy and full, ask him to look after the new kids coming to school that year--and soon he has assembled a motley crew of friends who bond for life. Conroy makes it abundantly clear that this group of eight would have been almost impossible in 1969 in Charleston, South Carolina. Besides homely, middle-class Leo, there are two African Americans, two poor orphans from North Carolina, one openly gay kid and his vampy twin, one girl jock, and a couple of snooty rich kids thrown in for good measure. The drama, tensions, sexual relationships, etc., soon begin, with Leo's undying loyalty serving as the glue that holds the group all together. As a team, they tackle bigotry of all kinds, horrible pasts, psychotic relatives, and even disease--it gets pretty mawkish.

This was kind of a dirty trick. I was hoping for one kind of novel--a sort of Holden Caulfield adventure with Leo at center stage--and wound up reading a soap opera. I admit that I was reluctantly hooked for most of the book, even if I rolled my eyes a lot (especially when the plot leaps ahead 20 years and this unlikely eight-some is tackling the AIDS epidemic). Despite the abundance of plot and melodrama, Leo's uniqueness kept me turning pages. I wanted to know if he'd ever be able to heal--or at least accept--the gaping hole that his brother left in his life.

But, ultimately, there's just too much going on here. Too many characters. Too many issues. Too much melodrama. When I finally buckled under and finished the last 100 pages, I was not surprised to find that they were rife with rape, abortions, suicide, cold-blooded murder, and hurricanes. Too, too much.

Also disappointing: the dialogue. Everyone in the book has the same sarcastic one-liner approach to life that should have been Leo's alone. You can't tell who is talking without the attribution, and it's too bad.

Of course, while I wouldn't recommend this book to anyone, it wasn't a complete waste of time for me. I enjoyed Leo's complex relationship with the Catholic church--how he was anchored to it, in love with its ritual and routine, and yet was not completely comfortable with it and even alienated sometimes. There's a funny moment when he says that his childhood finally made sense after he found out that his mother was a nun before she married his father. Catholic humor.

The Catholic references also double as references to James Joyce. Leo's mother is a Joycean scholar with a passion for Ulysses, and references to this staggering work abound--probably more than this amateur reader of Joyce's masterpiece could pick up on. Some are blatant, like the pivotal role of Bloomsday (June 16, which is the date that the events of Ulysses take place) or the names of Leopold Bloom King and his brother Stephen Dedalus King, which are the names of Joyce's two heroes. Others are a little less so--for example, the last sentence of the book is very similar to the last sentence of Ulysses.

In keeping with the Joycean influence, the city of Charleston itself serves as a central character, and probably some of the best stuff in the novel is the portrait of the complexities of this Southern city. But the novel just doesn't hold together with its overcrowded plot and burgeoning cast of characters with nearly identical personalities. Do yourself a favor, and skip it!


South of Broad: **

Fine Dining: On the Road to McBesity

Why this mom gets extra points for bringing home a Happy Meal.

Swim class ended today, and what better way to reward hard work than with the timeless McDonald's Happy Meal? I mean, everyone knows you have to start associating success with fatty foodstuffs early—otherwise, the young 'uns won't have a good reason to try hard. So age 15 months and change seemed just about right for the hallowed nuggets, fries, and a toy. But who knew just how much value $2.79 could buy? Here's a taste:

• More ingredients in the milk. The boring white stuff in your fridge usually has two measly ingredients, milk and vitamin D3 (for us indoor types who don't get enough sun). But the McDonald's Milk Jug has so much more! We're talking skim milk and concentrated skim milk here, people, with vitamin A palmitate thrown in for good measure. Now that's a milk jug.



• Potatoes the way nature intended. Nurturing your toddler's palate to appreciate vegetables can be a long road—so why not take a short cut? Blanketed in a child-pleasing blend of salt and grease, French fries will instantly make your baby a root-vegetable fan without the tantrum. And good news for moms: You'll never have slave over mashed, boiled, or baked potatoes ever again.



• Less cluck for your buck—the way they like it. For picky eaters, nothing says "no thanks" more than a possible run-in with protein. That's why the tiny "all-white meat" portions of these chicken nuggets take a backseat to the substantial cloud of fried batter surrounding them. Let your dog have at the meaty center, then serve up those crispy shells and bask in your little one's smile. She'll thank you for it, and so will the retail clerk at your plus-size baby clothing outlet.



• Critical thinking challenge. If mealtime conversations with your toddler usually consist of "that cup is NOT a hat" and "the dog already had her dinner," try livening things up with a brain teaser or two. Look no further than the Happy Meal bag itself for such promotional puzzles as: "Take a break—/Get Outside! / It's Fun to / RUN and JUMP / Online and Off!" Explaining that your DSL connector cable is not a jump rope will never be more fun.



• Advanced play opportunity. Sure, you can ask for an age-appropriate toy for your under-three-year-old—if you're a wuss. Say goodbye to Mensa if your kid can't operate a pull-apart Lego car without getting the teeny, weeny wheels caught in his throat.

McDonald's Happy Meal: *****

Reel Time: The Time Traveler's Wife

This film adaptation of the popular novel doesn't deserve such bad reviews.

Our book club doesn't go in for the traditional assigned reading with postmortem discussions. Instead, we each bring in a good book from our private stashes, give a Reading Rainbow-style recommendation to the group, then pile up our treasures on the center table. When the coffee-house staff starts stacking chairs and closing up the patio, we sort through our riches for the loaners that most intrigue us. We read them at our own pace (no pressure to finish before the next meeting!), then repeat the process. The result? No one feels ashamed about falling behind. No one worries about a book not being "literary" enough. And we each get to read books we enjoy without having to slog through stuff that doesn't interest us. It's great!

With so many wonderful choices and diverse interests before us, it's rare that all of us will read the same book--but every once in a while, one races through the group like wildfire. The first time this happened was five years ago when one of us brought in The Time Traveler's Wife by Audrey Niffenegger. A romance with sci-fi tendencies was an unlikely hit for our group, but the characters were so well drawn, their experiences so relatable, and their situation so compelling that none of us could put the book down.

The story chronicles the relationship between Clare and Henry, a guy with a time-placement disorder that acts a lot like epilepsy. The result of Henry's uncontrollable time-traveling "episodes" is that Clare meets Henry for the first time when she's six years old--when Henry meets Clare for the first time, however, she's in her twenties. As you can imagine, this makes for an interesting relationship!

The film version opened last weekend to mostly mediocre reviews. Rotten Tomatoes lists it at 36%--a dismal number (though not as dismal as the 8% awarded to the animated Garfield a few years back). I'm not sure why the critics have been so harsh. Our book club saw the film as a group over the weekend, and most of us really enjoyed it. Sure, it doesn't incorporate all of the lovely nuances of the novel--but it was a fairly faithful retelling of the plot, and we all recognized the characters we'd come to love in the book.

Here's where the film got it right:

1. Casting. Eric Bana, with his troubled eyes and sexy hair cut, gives Henry the brooding, sensitive streak that is so endearing in the novel. He also spends a good portion of the movie with his shirt off (clothes don't time-travel), which is a crowd pleaser in a theater full of women. Rachel MacAdams is a decent Clare as well. She's perhaps perkier than I expected the novel's introspective heroine to be, but this makes for good contrast with Henry's more reserved character. The actors play wonderfully off of each other to create the tenderness between the characters that is so essential to the book. To the LA Times reviewer who said that the film's stars had no chemistry, I give a big whatever with a raspberry on top.


2. Production design.
With a plot that moves alinearly, it's vital for the audience to be able to follow the jumps in and out of the past without scratching their heads. The visual cues in the film are excellent, and each location is memorable. The set decoration is also excellent--you can tell from a glance at the decor if the scene is past or present. Also, props to makeup and hair for making it clear which iteration of Henry was appearing in the present.


3. Overall tone. While the two-hour film can only cover so much of the novel, each major plot point is present and, with few exceptions, these feel as natural as they do in the book. This means that the overall feel of the story is present in the film version. The tenuous, but loving, relationship between two people in an impossible situation comes through loud and clear, as does the theme of living with loss in its many iterations. Overall, it's a moving, interesting story.

That said, there are many areas where the novel excels that the film could not possibly touch. While the film was quite satisfying from my perspective as a fan of the book, it definitely is the lesser of the two works. Here's why you should check out the book:

1. A story for both girls and boys. The reading men in my life, including my husband, really enjoyed the book--something I chalk up to Henry's manly exploits in the novel that got stripped from the screenplay. The film version is definitely aimed at the ladies. You rarely see Henry's more dangerous adventures, and Bana's screen time is dedicated more to being a leading man than to being a guy's guy. But the novel's Henry is much more complex and interesting. He regularly gets into fights when he lands naked in the middle of nowhere--and he has to be scrappy and resourceful to get himself clothed and oriented between episodes. The sense of danger that pervades the novel is mostly absent from the screen version, which focuses more on Henry's complicated feelings about Clare. But even those scenes in the novel are infused with a uniquely masculine perspective that didn't seem to make it to the reel.


2. Parallel narratives. While the film favors Henry's perspective, the book gives both Henry and Clare equal weight. In the novel, one chapter gives you Clare's POV; the next focuses on Henry's. This back and forth builds the tension of the story--and it serves to make Clare as round a character as her time-traveling counterpart. In her accounts of her long waits for his return, her frustrations, and her worries for his safety, you also feel an unbearable suspense for Henry's fate--which is often left open at the end of his chapters. That subtly increased tension is an art that just can't make it to the silver screen.


3. Less creepy child interactions. In the novel version when six-year-old Clare meets a thirty-something Henry alone in a meadow, the creepiness of the situation doesn't really stand out. This is probably thanks to Niffenegger's telling of the story through Clare's childlike perspective to give the meeting a magical quality. The film version of this scene, with Bana towering over the child actress, gives it a much more Lolita quality--an ick factor that took me right out of the scene. It's too bad this pivotal plot point wasn't handled better in the film.


4. Character-driven time travel. Usually, I roll my eyes when I hear the words "good book" and "time travel," but this is a remarkable exception. At first read, the rules Niffenegger creates for time travel seem entirely plausible (they unravel a little on closer inspection, but they're still pretty good). Henry's "episodes," often brought on by stress, come across as entirely organic, which means that time travel in this case is not at all a nifty plot device. Instead, it's always a reveal about Henry's character. The movie doesn't really go into the logic of Niffenegger's time travel, a weakness that might leave viewers who are new to the material dissatisfied. The film also leaves out some interesting, and very human, interactions between Henry and his past selves (thanks to gintastic for the reminder!).

The Time Traveler's Wife (book): *****
The Time Traveler's Wife (film): ***

Chain Chat: Ralph's Lives Up to Its Name

In which I blow off bullet points for an astounding real-life encounter with supermarket kind.

I tend to avoid Ralph's supermarket. We have a lovely small grocery store nearby (a smaller chain called Fresh & Easy) that rocks my little world. And we have Trader Joe's, too! But every once in a while I end up at Ralph's, either to get a missing ingredient or because I happen to be in the neighborhood. Well, after today, I won't be going back for a looooooooong time. (I want to say never, but never say never, right?)

I should have seen the weirdness coming when my progress was blocked multiple times by carts parked smack in the middle of the aisles. Usually, this doesn't happen in every aisle, but today was special. The old lady muttering mild expletives under her breath in the bread aisle was another omen I ignored after giving her a suitably wide berth.

When the time came to check out, there were only two lanes open, and as the salty-tongued lady was at the end of one, I chose the other. The fresh-faced young 'un manning the register waited too long to inform me she was closing the lane after the next customer, so I strolled back over to the ever-lengthening lane behind Old Mrs. Potty Mouth. I was about to unload my groceries, when the manager came over.

Now, the manager was at one time one of my favorite checkers at this establishment. She was always quick and polite and funny. But as manager, she's an imposing woman. Loud, large, and no-nonsense authoritative. Before I could place my chickens and eggs on the conveyor belt, she personally escorted me to a lane that she said was just opening up. Of course, it was just the same lane I'd been to earlier--the little chickadee must have been told that going on break in the middle of a cash-register rush is not store policy.

Anyway, there was already a guy in line--a fortyish athletic-looking fellow who'd spent the better part of his time in the grocery aisles taking up more than his fair share of space. But that doesn't mean he deserved what followed. To my chagrin, the manager boomed him out of the line. "THERE WERE PEOPLE WAITING," she shouted.

"But I was waiting, too," he noted calmly, and not improperly.

But she would have none of it. She badgered him loudly until he put his cart in reverse. Suddenly, I found myself in front of him, too disoriented and embarrassed to remember to do the proper thing and let him ahead of me. When I finally realized what I had done, most of my groceries were already on the conveyor belt. I made myself look him in the eye and say, "I'm so sorry about that. That was so confusing."

He met my eyes, not unfriendly at all, and said, "That's OK. They should have more checkers." He continued to make me feel better and worse at the same time by being extra sweet to baby G, who was happily playing with the Cheerios box in the basket.

After that, the experience kept going downhill. Little chickadee coughed dramatically all over her hands before giving me my receipt (sigh), but the weirdness wasn't over. Just as I was about to peel out of there with the packed cart, the frail little employee who bagged the groceries stepped in front of me. She had surprising stamina for her appearance--it looked like the effort of hefting just one soup can into a shopping cart would be enough to overwhelm her.

I stopped the cart, adjusted the baby on my hip, and moved my wallet to my free hand.

"That wallet you have," she said. "I saw it on TV."

I should mention that the wallet in question is a handy all-in-one number with a key-chain, a cell-phone pocket, and a zipper pouch with pockets for ID, credit cards, etc. But it's not particularly unusual looking. It's a pretty shade of red, but that's its one real distinguishing feature. And I'm pretty sure she didn't see this particular wallet on TV--my wallet-giving benefactress doesn't watch infomercials.

Uh-oh, I thought. This is not going anywhere good."It... it was a gift," I mumbled, hoping this true tidbit would get me out of the conversation in a hurry. The last thing I wanted was to prolong my Ralph's experience by chin-wagging about wallets with the bag clerk.

"$19.99," she said, awed. She turned to the baby in my arms. "Your mamma has good taste."

Good meaning expensive, I could see. Mortifying.

"Can I see it? I think it's the same one," she said, reaching out her hand. "With the pocket for the credit cards..."

While technically, the touch of one cart wheel would have felled her, I couldn't do it. Pretending not to understand, I turned the wallet over in my hand, just showing her the back of it. "Yeah, that sounds like it."

"Well," she said conspiratorially. "Your friend got it on the Internet."

It is rare that I find myself at a loss for words, but rack my brain as I might, I could not come up with the proper, expedient response. "Oh," I said finally, practically doing a wheelie with the cart in my 180-degree getaway maneuver. "You have a good day, now."

"You, too!" she called after me, in a voice that said she knew my secret and would keep it forever.

There are tons of reasons not to go to this Ralph's. Like the time I saw the customer sneeze liberally all over the open vegetable displays. Or the day the rotting produce oozed out all over the floor of the fruit section, tripping up unsuspecting elderly customers until I practically had to sit on a manager to get a clean-up on aisle one already. And there was the time the staffer didn't know what barley was and showed me white rice after a 20-minute wait. But this really takes the cake. They won't be seeing this wallet again for a looooooooooooooong time. Preferably never.

Tot Time: Easy Entertainment

Who knew everyday things could be so much fun?

Before baby G arrived, I always figured we were the world's most boring household for kids to visit. Sure, we could muster up a stuffed animal or two, but most visiting tots had to make due with the toys they brought. Otherwise, they had to be content testing out our doorknobs or having staring matches with the dog.

Now that baby G is here, we are much more kid-friendly. There are bins of toys to rummage through and mats to play on and plenty of kiddie lit to read. But while baby G enjoys all of these things, some of the most entertaining items in the house were things we had all along. Who knew?

But before I tell you what they are, let me lead with a disclaimer: Obviously, all children have to be supervised when playing with anything so that they don't hurt themselves (or anyone or anything else). The most harmless-looking magazine can be a paper dagger in the wrong hands, after all!

Now that that's out of the way, here are five household items baby G can't get enough of:

1. Laundry. If you think that age nine months is too early to get your child excited about chores, think again. Pulling out the laundry basket turned out to be a really fun way to entertain baby while getting some housework done—an almost unthinkable combination. At first, baby G contented himself by pulling out the items one by one (socks and washcloths are still favorites). Then as he got older and bolder, he was able to empty the basket at lightening speed (progressing to challenging items like our jeans and bath towels). The basket itself serves as fort, walker, and toy-collection bin. (Look out! He also tried to use it as a step stool once.) Of course, baby G soon figured out it was also fun to unfold the laundry. But for the most part, I can work around the sabotage by putting the piles up higher (like on the back of the couch). So, it's still a lot of fun for both of us!



2. Greeting cards. Since birth, I've been an incorrigible pack rat, which means I've got enough old birthday cards and holiday greetings in the garage to start a museum. So, I was just delighted when baby G took an instant liking to the Valentine sent from his clever aunt. She knew that he would be mesmerized by the hologram on the front. We're talking 10-minute stretches of total concentration while he turned it over and over in his hands. Luckily, that fascination transferred to the two-dimensional variety as well, and we now keep his birthday and holiday cards in a stack for him to look through now and then. Of course, we keep the very special ones out of reach, as there are occasional casualties, and we also have to look out for paper cuts and any ingesting of corners or torn pieces. But for the most part, baby G is very careful with them. He's also a huge fan of the musical/talking ones. He loves puzzling over opening and closing them to make the sound start and stop. Those especially require supervision, of course, as the wee speaker system is loaded with tiny parts that could easily find their way into baby's mouth.



3. Plastic bins. This should have been a no-brainer for me, as many of us grew up rummaging through our parents' Tupperware cupboards. But I didn't realize how much fun babies can have taking toys out of a bin and putting them right back in again. This activity has not only given me hope that baby G somehow got the tidy gene that I don't carry, but it has also encouraged him to be even more mobile. To fill a bin to the brim, he will go to great lengths, including a crawl across the room to find just the right toy. Then he'll pick up the toy and either stand up and take a few steps toward the bin, or he'll do this rather strenuous-looking knee-walk to get where he wants to go. It's pretty fun to watch!



4. Magazines. Like many households, we get a stream of magazines and catalogs in the daily mail. Back issues are a great way to give baby G something to look at. Sometimes when he's sitting at the breakfast table with his dad, they'll both be flipping through their own magazines. It's adorable! Anyway, the photos in magazines like Parents or Real Simple seem to catch his eye, and he's a huge fan of the detachable magazine subscription cards. For the most part, he's very careful turning pages, and sometimes I'll hand him a magazine when he's in the playpen so he can be entertained while I'm catching up on e-mail on the adjacent couch. Of course, there is the occasional rip fest, at which point, I generally take the magazine away and replace it with a board book or something that doesn't have edible pieces. In addition to the safety concerns, I'm not excited about him learning to rip up pages, as I fear for our books and other important papers. But, a magazine packs easily for visits to friends' houses, and baby won't miss it if you accidentally leave it behind.



5. The dog's collar. This was an accidental discovery. One day, the dog was sleeping on the couch next to the collar that I must have removed but forgot to put away (see pack rat reference above). When baby G came up to the couch to visit the dog (always an adventure for both parties), he noticed the collar, picked it up, and began jingling it like a baby rattle. He had a huge grin on his face the whole time. So funny! He also held it up to the dog and giggled like crazy when she sniffed at it. This had the added benefit of keeping him distracted from the dog's very pullable ears. But, when he gets too exuberant and the metal license on the collar becomes a blur to the naked eye, I worry for his teeth and those of anyone within a three-foot radius. So, this is definitely something we only let him play with once in a while and with hawk-eyed supervision. Still, it's pretty hilarious to watch him crack up over it like it is the best and funniest discovery on the planet.

These were some fun discoveries for us, but surely there are plenty of everyday delights we've overlooked. Any suggestions?