I ran to the library to check out a few Willa Cather novels for my summer light reading and this earworm has been running through my head for the past hour:
(You’re welcome! Enjoy that bouncy 2/2 time as you pedal your bike or walk to your car this afternoon.)
But I’ve also been preoccupied by quite another model of educational leadership, as I’ve been wondering how fast can I run to a theater to see Bad Teacher? The review in the newspaper this morning had me interested, but this review by David Edelstein on Fresh Air has me eager to see it. If you see it, let me know what you think.
This is not a movie blog or a blog that provides free advertising, so you can find your own movie trailer if you’re interested, but the plot line–and Cameron Diaz’s profile–strongly suggest that CD is just about the last remaining woman in Hollywood who has not had breast implants. This is another powerful reason to support this movie, IMHO. Solidarity with women comedians!
Historiann 
Congratulations for replacing my ear worm. What are you going to stick in my head tomorrow?
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Love how the townswomen characterize Marian as a heartless slut because she reads sexy books and charmed a local man into giving a library building:
“He left River City the li-brar-y
But he left all the books to HER…”
Cheep cheep cheep…
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Oops, I think the lyrics are “the library building.” An early representation of current discussions: is the library a place, or is it collections?
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Ah, Marian! I love this musical, ironically and utterly. It also gave us “Gary, Indiana” which my sister and I sang repeatedly during our Indiana childhood, even though we hailed from a small town more than an hour south.
I hadn’t heard a peep about that movie before. Now that you’ve brought it up, I’m intrigued but figuring I’m going to have to wait a while before it’s available for me to see. Still, I can be patient!
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I’d enjoy anything if it said 2/2. I bet Bad Teacher had to buy her own basketballs to throw at the kids on account of how Mr. Matoose down at the gym (my own personal Lynyrd Skynyrd) wouldn’t let her have any from the equipment room.
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I want to see it but I will have to drag someone else with me because if not, I will think it is about me. Then I will have my feelings hurt, and I will complain to the author.
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You *must* read Shadows on the Rock, H’ann! It represents everything I know about 17 c Quebec. Highly romanticized, but stll a good read (or at least so I thought 30+ years ago). In HS we had to do reports on an American author, and mine was Cather. My recollection was that we were to read one or maybe two books, but I read everything Cather had written. I reread The Professors House a few years ago: very satisfying, though not that light!
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not that light!
Ahem, yes, Historiann. My typist, who has devoted her non-blog-related scholarly career to the works of Willa Cather, joins Susan in questioning the use of the adjective “light” to describe those works. She cannot, alas, join in Susan’s enthusiasm for Shadows on the Rock, which has always struck her as dull as porridge, but it’s been a long time. She thinks you should focus on the Southwest-y books (Prof’s House, Song of the Lark, Death Comes for the Archbishop), and then you and she can stage an epic cross-blog, cross-disciplinary conversation later in the summer. Game?
Thanks for the shout-out in any case. Happy reading!
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I taught the Music Man in my first ever cross-listed class with our Women and Gender program. It spurred some really good discussions about masculinity and whiteness, a lot of them about the compositional choices Mr. Wilson made.
I talked to a lot of friends and colleagues about the MM at the time, and it is amazing how many people forget the basic fact that Harold Hill is a horrible scoundrel and con man. He is a horrible person with great songs, which makes us believe an extremely unconvincing happy ending.
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“He’s a fake and he doesn’t know the territory!”
I too have a soft spot for the flimflam salesman played by Robert Preston, because my favorite gay Uncle (actually a Great Uncle) was a Preston lookalike. But, just to be clear: he sells them band instruments and uniforms, and they get their merchandise. He just doesn’t stick around to direct the band when they arrive. (So “scoundrel” seems a little overblown.)
Susan and Roxie: as it happens, The Professor’s House and Shadows are the two books I picked up yesterday. I will do Death Comes for the Archbishop next. (I called it “light reading” as a little bit of a joke, but Roxie–as I learned in my 2002 definitive scholarly edition, The Professor’s House was published in a magazine first, for cripessakes. That’s almost de facto light reading!)
Coincidentally, I should be at Mesa Verde next week as part of a Famillie Historiann wilderness camping trip, so I’m eager to get ‘er done before mid-week next week. Fratguy will undoubtedly want to read it too, because he’s just that kind of former English major fratguy.
And, Z, FTW!!!: I want to see it but I will have to drag someone else with me because if not, I will think it is about me. Then I will have my feelings hurt, and I will complain to the author.
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Ugh — Death Comes for the Archbishop. Ugh.
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Porque/pourquoi? Does death not come fast enough for your taste?
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Echo Roxie on Song of the Lark, which was a revelation to me — one of the best novels I’ve ever read about an artist. All I’d heard of was the My Antonia and Oh Pioneers. The Professor’s House is a book that is better as you get older. I probably liked Shadows on the Rock because I read it at my grandmother’s. The one I hated was Sapphira and the Slave Girl.
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