pedestrian saga

Class Matters is a special series of reports investigating social class in the U.S. published in 2005 by the New York Times. I read it in the book-club-friendly paperback compilation, but it’s readily available, in quite a snazzy presentation, at nytimes.com/class.

The series is anchored in a definition of class as the combination of four attributes: education, income, occupation, and wealth. We are asked to imagine that everybody is dealt a hand of cards, “one from each suit,” and then invited to explore how the cards have played out for specific individuals and families. The overarching thesis is that, although outward class distinctions seem to be disappearing, class continues to be “a powerful force in American life,” and social mobility is not as prevalent as commonly believed (and may even be in decline). In between this premise and the personal profiles, there’s a wealth of survey data and some serious statistical graphing jujitsu.

I snoozed through those numbers but perked up considerably at the human narratives. The two stories I found most riveting (even harrowing) are “Angela Whitiker’s Climb” out of poverty and drug addiction to middle-class registered nursedom, and “Five-Bedroom, Six-Figure Rootless Life,” the tale of a “relo” class family who moves between suburbias every few years for work. Also fascinating is “15 Years on the Bottom Rung,” which looks at class matters for different generations of immigrants in the microcosm of an upscale Manhattan restaurant.

Turns out that online the statistics are actually fun to ogle and play with! Hats off to the New York Times Web ninjas. This interactive graphic asking “Where do you fit in?” elicited more than one “whee!”

And from sunshiny thoughts of this engaging, in-depth journalistic project my head drifts to gloomy concern over the struggling newspaper business and the effects on said original reporting: “As the financial pressures mount—the outlook for 2009 is dismal—and the cost cutting continues, we can only hope that the original news reporting by top-flight journalists is not a major casualty.” (CNET column)

In lieu of trying Milk, Gus Van Sant’s drama now playing places other than Corvallis, I revisited this enthralling and moving documentary on the political rise and tragic assassination of the first openly gay person elected to major public office in the U.S. When I first happened upon The Times of Harvey Milk surfing Berkeley basic cable circa 1999, it consumed my attention and left me a puddle on my cheap futon. The times and the sofa have changed, but the movie and I have not. Yesterday, at the first sign of the November 27, 1978, candlelight march on San Francisco City Hall, I was weeping like a big baby.

The folks interviewed in the film seem an interesting mix of Milk’s close associates and less intimate political acquaintances, but all of them get choked up recalling his death. The one that stands out to me this round is Jim Elliot, the auto machinist union guy from Milk’s neighborhood, a reluctant ally of the gay community, won over by Milk’s charisma. He bears a striking resemblance to my paternal grandfather, who was unlikely a union guy and even less likely a gay ally. Same shape of noggin and eyeglasses and mouth, could’ve passed for Grandpa’s brother!

I need to be sure my kid sister sees this one, and all y’all too. A must-see for anyone remotely interested in the history of San Francisco, gay rights, humanity…Bring a hankie.

****

National Library of Australia staff apparently test the legal limits of fun at their office holiday parties. Their performance of “Thriller” is great on so many levels:

Tip o’ the hat: LibraryThing

I’m staying home for the holidays, as opposed to traveling to hang with the fam, and that’s got me feeling a little melancholy. My siblings have been dutifully rearing nieces for me, and Mum’s settling into a new house. Dad builds cozy fires in his fireplace and now has wireless high-speed Internet! So, to cheer up about missing all of them this winter and to survive the holidays, I nabbed this collection of a dozen David Sedaris stories, loosely gathered around the holiday theme. The Sedaris monologues I’ve heard on This American Life often riff on his dysfunctional family life and rarely fail to crack me up, so it seemed just the ticket.

What an uneven book! The memoirish stories are hilarious–sometimes poignant, sometimes dark, always a pleasure. “SantaLand Diaries” (fear and loathing in Macy’s at Christmastime), “Dinah, the Christmas Whore,” “Jesus Shaves” (must-read for anyone who’s tried to learn a foreign language as an adult), “Us and Them,” “Let It Snow” (best read aloud to your mum or younger siblings, once you’ve all survived childhood), “Six to Eight Black Men” (for more cross-cultural holiday cheer), and “The Monster Mash” comprise the good stuff. The remaining stories, written as straight fiction, are utterly unfunny. They predominate in the first half of the book and are so disappointing they nearly prevented me from reaching the good stuff, a factor that only increases my resentment. I’ve since concluded that the book is a sloppy and cynical stocking-stuffer-friendly repackaging of content pretty much available elsewhere. Skip it altogether, listen to the audio book instead, or seek out the good stuff in other collections or on the radio:

• Sedaris reads from “SantaLand Diaries” on NPR and on This American Life
• “Jesus Shaves” on This American Life 148: The Angels Wanna Wear My Red Suit
• “The Monster Mash” on a recent Halloween episode, 319: And the Call Was Coming from the Basement
• This American Life Episode 87 is entirely devoted to the humorless fiction pieces, maybe tolerable in audio form? Also, “The Cow and the Turkey” is performed in Episode 305: Holiday Spectacular.

Two chicks from Eugene, Oregon, who I should be able to relate to (they met through the DANCE support group—Divorced Women Now Challenging Everything), adventure abroad to solve a family mystery involving Einstein’s violin case. Bad puns ensue. The narrative voice switches between the two protagonists at chapter breaks.

Meh. I read the first two chapters and found it rather hokey, so moved on. I did enjoy the author’s presentation at the Corvallis Public Library on the hiking he did in Europe in the course of researching this novel. And his Oregon outdoor guides seem to be highly regarded.

(The Case of Einstein’s Violin @ LibraryThing)