We're all just background: Book Critic at Play #4

Extras, by Scott Westerfeld
I’m not sure if this is the best entry in the Uglies series or simply the most cerebral. The action is in keeping with the other three books—the surfboards are there, the hidden forces, the adversaries who could easily destroy the hero and who are probably manipulating her as well—though this one seems to take a little longer to get started. The pacing is still nearly perfect and the characterization nearly enthralling; the only bummer is that this one is not about Tally Youngblood, and I’d become rather enamored of our young heroine. Ah, well. Extras takes place after—how long after is not clear, but not more than a few years probably—the events of Specials, the third entry in the series. Aya Fuse is a kicker, or wants to be. The best kickers are citizen journalists; the least of them are gossip columnists. Instead of YouTube, the citizens of Extras have constant feeds embedded in their eyes, or projected from. Extras is a world of instant media, a celebrity culture where no one stays a celebrity for long. The goal of most citizens is to increase their face ranking, their level of fame. At the start of the novel, Aya is a nobody; of course, that changes, and so does her understanding of face ranks, of how life is, of how life should be. Yes, Tally makes an appearance—she has to; it’s the world she remade, and this novel deals with the question of responsibility. But more than that, it’s an exploration of fame, of desire, of identity. Who is Aya Fuse really? Who does she want to be? Does that desire make sense? Does it define her? As with each of the novels in this series, nothing is quite what it seems, including the main character. This is dystopian sf, sure, but it’s also classic coming of age—Aya has to decide where her true path lies, whether what she needs is truly the same as what she wants, who her true friends are and what loyalty means. Part of the fun of a Westerfeld novel seems to be trying to figure these things out before the heroine does, and part is in the language itself—this author combines elements of Australian slang, tech argot, and the language of the world he has invented to create a cant for his characters that is not found elsewhere. This is cultural criticism disguised as pulse-pounding sf thriller. (Image ©2006 HarperCollins Children's Books)

Framing Faith: I Actually Like TV #1

Joan of Arcadia (2003–2004), Season 1
“Faith is believing when you have no rational reason to believe.” This line comes near the end of the season, and while it’s hardly a new concept to anyone with or interested in faith—its challenges and its blessings—it’s fairly unusual to see on TV. Joan is the middle child in a nuclear family that has just moved to the town of Arcadia. Dad is a cop (and a good one), Mom is an artist (a painter, actually), big brother is a former jock who has just been in an accident that left him a paraplegic (confined to a wheelchair), and little brother is super science nerd. Joan is a teenage girl who, simply put, speaks to God. Or more accurately, God speaks to her. In each episode of the first season, God appears with a different face, and each time, the stranger gives Joan a mission—he or she tells her to do something, and out of that something comes a realization, growth for Joan. Ultimately, Joan of Arcadia is a coming-of-age tale, but with a twist, this conceit. It does not preach, nor does its God. He or she insists that free will is the core, his or her greatest gift. God is everyone—black, white, Asian, man, woman, young, old—and God is in Joan. Or god is. She questions, she refuses, she grows. She may actually be delusional, but then faith—whether in something divine or in other people—is not logical. The producers nailed the dual-narrative nature of episodic television, neatly deepening themes by putting one or two other major characters into subplots that echo and resonate with Joan’s. Pop culture that makes you think, that addresses faith and hope and growth? Who says television is soulless? (Image ©2003 Sony Pictures Television)

It Ain't...: Opinionated Movie Comment #5

Rocket Science (2007), Reece Thompson, Vincent Piazza, Anna Kendrick, Nicholas d’Agosto, Aaron Yoo, Utkarsh Ambudkar; dir. Jeffrey Blitz
Jeffrey Blitz first caught the film world’s attention in 2002, with his documentary Spellbound, an examination of eight competitors (I almost wrote “players,” but this is no mere game) in the national Scripps-Howard spelling bee. That film had more drama (and comedy) than many big-budget Hollywood films, and characters no fiction writer could have written with receiving accusations of unreality. Five years later, he brought us Rocket Science. Both feature young adults on a stage, competing against one another in battles judged by adults, not by peers. Both show us young people consumed with ambition and self-doubt. Both show us characters forced to look into themselves and grow. And though one is fiction and the other documentary, both are true. Rocket Science opens with a debate—and what a debate! Forensic debate, high-speed, ridiculous verbal fluency, argument and counter-argument. But it comes suddenly to a screeching stop, almost a stutter. And stuttering is important in this film—or rather verbal shutdown. Hal Hefner, our hero is a very, very smart lad, but he seems unable to speak. He also has another problem: He has a crush on Ginny Ryerson, the debate team star, and she has absolutely zero interest in him. Until, that is, she invites him to join the team. This movie is likable for several reasons: The people who populate the movie are real—no teen movie (or Teen Movie) beautiful people here. No one is ugly or acne-ridden or deformed; they just aren’t beautiful. Blitz and his cast created some fantastic characterization, particularly in Hal’s awful older brother Earl. There is some great toying with music, particularly pop tunes, for comic effect. The Violent Femmes have never been so slick, nor so clever. But in the end, this is a coming-of-age movie—warm, painful, heartwrenching, heartwarming, and true. (Image ©2007 HBO Films)