Benjamin A. Railton's Blog, page 350
June 16, 2014
June 16, 2014: AmericanStudying Summer Jams: Summer Wind
[As the solstice approaches, a series on AmericanStudies contexts for some of our most enduring summertime songs. Add your responses or other summertime favorites for a crowd-sourced weekend bbq—I mean, post. Okay, both!]
On performance, authorship, and memory.Frank Sinatra’s “Summer Wind”(1966) was far from Old Blue Eyes’ most successful song, but the nostalgic ballad of summer love lost was certainly a hit, rising to #25 on the Billboard singles chart and #1 on the Easy Listening chart, and helping to make its album, Strangers in the Night , one of the most successful of Sinatra’s long career. Yet Sinatra’s “Summer Wind” was not only not the first recorded version of the song, but it was released less than a year after that first version, Wayne Newton’s, which itself had reached #78 on the Billboard singles chart and #9 on the Adult Contemporary chart in 1965. And less than a year after Sinatra’s, Welsh star Shirley Bassey released her own version of the song! Such was the culture of popular music in the 1960s.Newton, Sinatra, and Bassey were able to record and release their own verisons of “Summer Wind” in large part because the song had been composed by none of them, and instead by an outside songwriting duo: the music was by Heinz Meier and the lyrics by legendary songwriter Johnny Mercer. For more than 40 years, from his earliest songs as a twenty-something in the early 1930s to just before his 1976 death, Mercer composed the lyrics (and occasionally also the music) to some of the 20th century’s best-known works: from “P.S. I Love You” (1934) and “Jeepers Creepers”(1938) to “Moon River”(1961) and “Days of Wine and Roses” (1962), along with more than 1400 others. So there’s no possible way to see Mercer’s career as anything less than a triumphant success; yet Mercer was also a singer in his own right, and it’s fair to ask whether it might have been difficult to see other performers gain fame from his compositions—which might explain why Mercer released his own version of “Summer Wind” (1974), just two years before his death.Whatever Mercer’s own perspective, the question is an important one for any student of popular music and culture. Does it matter that most of Frank Sinatra’s hits were written by other songwriters? Does it matter that many of Elvis Presley’s were? When we remember these hugely influential and transformative artists, are we simply remembering their talent and presence, irrespective of these questions of authorship? (With Elvis there are of course related but distinct questions of race that these issues also raise.) These are complex questions, and I’m certainly not suggesting that we should not remember Sinatra or Presley (although it’d be possible to argue that the difference between Sinatra and Wayne Newton, for example, was at least partly one of access to better songs). But I would strongly suggest that our collective cultural memories need to include songwriters like Mercer far more fully than they do, and indeed that it is such songwriters whose works and voices can often truly capture the arc of American popular culture.Next summer jam tomorrow,BenPS. Thoughts on this song? Other summertime favorites you’d share?
On performance, authorship, and memory.Frank Sinatra’s “Summer Wind”(1966) was far from Old Blue Eyes’ most successful song, but the nostalgic ballad of summer love lost was certainly a hit, rising to #25 on the Billboard singles chart and #1 on the Easy Listening chart, and helping to make its album, Strangers in the Night , one of the most successful of Sinatra’s long career. Yet Sinatra’s “Summer Wind” was not only not the first recorded version of the song, but it was released less than a year after that first version, Wayne Newton’s, which itself had reached #78 on the Billboard singles chart and #9 on the Adult Contemporary chart in 1965. And less than a year after Sinatra’s, Welsh star Shirley Bassey released her own version of the song! Such was the culture of popular music in the 1960s.Newton, Sinatra, and Bassey were able to record and release their own verisons of “Summer Wind” in large part because the song had been composed by none of them, and instead by an outside songwriting duo: the music was by Heinz Meier and the lyrics by legendary songwriter Johnny Mercer. For more than 40 years, from his earliest songs as a twenty-something in the early 1930s to just before his 1976 death, Mercer composed the lyrics (and occasionally also the music) to some of the 20th century’s best-known works: from “P.S. I Love You” (1934) and “Jeepers Creepers”(1938) to “Moon River”(1961) and “Days of Wine and Roses” (1962), along with more than 1400 others. So there’s no possible way to see Mercer’s career as anything less than a triumphant success; yet Mercer was also a singer in his own right, and it’s fair to ask whether it might have been difficult to see other performers gain fame from his compositions—which might explain why Mercer released his own version of “Summer Wind” (1974), just two years before his death.Whatever Mercer’s own perspective, the question is an important one for any student of popular music and culture. Does it matter that most of Frank Sinatra’s hits were written by other songwriters? Does it matter that many of Elvis Presley’s were? When we remember these hugely influential and transformative artists, are we simply remembering their talent and presence, irrespective of these questions of authorship? (With Elvis there are of course related but distinct questions of race that these issues also raise.) These are complex questions, and I’m certainly not suggesting that we should not remember Sinatra or Presley (although it’d be possible to argue that the difference between Sinatra and Wayne Newton, for example, was at least partly one of access to better songs). But I would strongly suggest that our collective cultural memories need to include songwriters like Mercer far more fully than they do, and indeed that it is such songwriters whose works and voices can often truly capture the arc of American popular culture.Next summer jam tomorrow,BenPS. Thoughts on this song? Other summertime favorites you’d share?
June 14, 2014
June 14-15, 2014: War Stories: Board Games
[In honor of last week’s 70 anniversary of the D-Day invasion, in this week’s series I’ve highlighted different ways we’ve told the story of that fateful day and its aftermath. This special post considers one other way we capture the stories of war, but is also inspired by Sunday’s birthday of my best friend Steve, with whom I’ve played most of my lifetime of board games!]
On three board games through which I learned a lot about war histories and stories.1) Ambush!: Ambush!, which began with a focus on post-D-Day European campaigns and then expanded to include Italy and the Pacific as well, stands out as (by far) the best solitaire board game I ever played. But its style of gameplay also captures the uncertainty and constant danger of warfare as well as anything I’ve encountered: as the player moves his eight squad members across the board in pursuit of each unique mission, anything and everything can suddenly transpire: sniper fire, the arrival of an enemy tank, an encounter with a civilian, a mine or other explosive device being triggered. Awaiting the results of each move was, as board games go, as nerve-wrecking as it gets.2) Sink the Bismarck!: Something about board games with exclamation points, I suppose. Inspired by one of the most unique naval histories in World War II, as well as the 1960 British film of the same name, Sink the Bismarck! was an incredibly complicated board game, and I’m not sure I ever played with every rule and feature (or even most of them). To be honest, I spent a good deal of time just examining the board, the pieces and cards, the rules and peripheral materials, learning not only about the game but also about the histories and stories connected to this famous German battleship, to the Axis and Allied naval armadas, and to all the complexities of naval warfare. I don’t think Michael Scott Smith would mind that outcome one bit.3) Gettysburg: Ah, the genius of Avalon Hill’s Gettysburg, a game that was at one and same time deeply grounded in the battle’s histories (the board alone taught me a great deal about the battle’s locations and landscapes) and open to each player’s and game’s unique choices (I still remember the time I had J.E.B. Stuart’s cavalry flank the Union lines and capture General Meade, winning the battle in one fell swoop; luckily for all Americans it didn’t really work out that way!). The battle and war are history, but the game made them come alive, made them new and meaningful for each player and experience. I owe much of my enduring love of history to precisely such effects.Next series starts Monday,BenPS. What do you think? Thoughts on any war games you’ve played?
On three board games through which I learned a lot about war histories and stories.1) Ambush!: Ambush!, which began with a focus on post-D-Day European campaigns and then expanded to include Italy and the Pacific as well, stands out as (by far) the best solitaire board game I ever played. But its style of gameplay also captures the uncertainty and constant danger of warfare as well as anything I’ve encountered: as the player moves his eight squad members across the board in pursuit of each unique mission, anything and everything can suddenly transpire: sniper fire, the arrival of an enemy tank, an encounter with a civilian, a mine or other explosive device being triggered. Awaiting the results of each move was, as board games go, as nerve-wrecking as it gets.2) Sink the Bismarck!: Something about board games with exclamation points, I suppose. Inspired by one of the most unique naval histories in World War II, as well as the 1960 British film of the same name, Sink the Bismarck! was an incredibly complicated board game, and I’m not sure I ever played with every rule and feature (or even most of them). To be honest, I spent a good deal of time just examining the board, the pieces and cards, the rules and peripheral materials, learning not only about the game but also about the histories and stories connected to this famous German battleship, to the Axis and Allied naval armadas, and to all the complexities of naval warfare. I don’t think Michael Scott Smith would mind that outcome one bit.3) Gettysburg: Ah, the genius of Avalon Hill’s Gettysburg, a game that was at one and same time deeply grounded in the battle’s histories (the board alone taught me a great deal about the battle’s locations and landscapes) and open to each player’s and game’s unique choices (I still remember the time I had J.E.B. Stuart’s cavalry flank the Union lines and capture General Meade, winning the battle in one fell swoop; luckily for all Americans it didn’t really work out that way!). The battle and war are history, but the game made them come alive, made them new and meaningful for each player and experience. I owe much of my enduring love of history to precisely such effects.Next series starts Monday,BenPS. What do you think? Thoughts on any war games you’ve played?
June 13, 2014
June 13, 2014: D-Day Stories: Frank Draper, Jr.
[In honor of last week’s 70 anniversary of the D-Day invasion, in this series I’ll highlight different ways we’ve told the story of that fateful day and its aftermath. I’d love to hear your thoughts, and any stories you’d highlight or share, in comments!]
On the website that represents the possibilities for a 21st century memorial.The heroic service, tragic death, and communal symbolism of Frank Draper, Jr.were initially memorialized in a very traditional way. Draper served in Company A of the 116th Infantry Regiment of the 29th Division about which I wrote in yesterday’s post, and was killed during the heated action on the first day of the D-Day invasion, June 6th, 1944. His devastated father, Frank Draper, Sr., built a large stone monument in their hometown of Bedford, Virginia, paying tribute to his son’s service and mourning his death at the far-too-youthful age of 26. Since Draper was one of nineteen young men from Bedford who were killed during the Normandy invasion, the monument has become a symbolic tribute to this small town’s collective service and sacrifice, and indeed has served as a starting point for a more official memorial to the town’s D-Day heroes and losses.I hope it goes without saying that I’m a big fan of memorials and all such historic sites, but they are of course linked to, and thus in some ways limited by, their physical locations—if you want to see the Draper memorial, after all, you have to travel to little Bedford, Virginia. But here in the 21st century, there’s another option when it comes to collective memory, digital spaces, and they’re offering new possibilities for how we can memorialize stories like Draper’s. This website dedicated to Draper, for example, begins with an image of and quote from the family memorial and moves through the details of both Draper’s story and his father’s response, but then shifts to a series of references and links to relevant but increasingly broad historical contexts: the D-Day memories of both Allied and Axis troops; a line from Stephen Ambrose’s history of the invasion; an audio file of Eisenhower’s radio address; and then quotes from figures as varied as John Adams, Walt Whitman, and General Patton.The page, created by blogger and web author Rich Geib, is far less overtly connected to either Draper specifically or D-Day more broadly than the Bedford memorials, and I’m not suggesting a website can or should replace such physical historic sites. But for one thing, a website like Geib’s can connect audiences all around the world, most of whom will likely never make it to Bedford, to Draper and his story, and all the histories to which they are linked. And for another, such a site can provide those multi-layered historical and cultural contexts, allowing for deeper investigation and understanding of an individual soldier’s experiences, of the D-Day invasion and its aftermaths, of World War II, and of war and history at the broader and most human levels. As with anything online, none of those contexts can be taken for granted or assumed to be accurate or the last word—but neither could be a physical memorial, or any particular representation of a history or story for that matter. With a story like Draper’s, I would argue that the crucial first step is simply to remember at all—and this website definitely offers us new and potent ways to do so.Special post this weekend,BenPS. What do you think? Other D-Day stories you’d highlight or share?
On the website that represents the possibilities for a 21st century memorial.The heroic service, tragic death, and communal symbolism of Frank Draper, Jr.were initially memorialized in a very traditional way. Draper served in Company A of the 116th Infantry Regiment of the 29th Division about which I wrote in yesterday’s post, and was killed during the heated action on the first day of the D-Day invasion, June 6th, 1944. His devastated father, Frank Draper, Sr., built a large stone monument in their hometown of Bedford, Virginia, paying tribute to his son’s service and mourning his death at the far-too-youthful age of 26. Since Draper was one of nineteen young men from Bedford who were killed during the Normandy invasion, the monument has become a symbolic tribute to this small town’s collective service and sacrifice, and indeed has served as a starting point for a more official memorial to the town’s D-Day heroes and losses.I hope it goes without saying that I’m a big fan of memorials and all such historic sites, but they are of course linked to, and thus in some ways limited by, their physical locations—if you want to see the Draper memorial, after all, you have to travel to little Bedford, Virginia. But here in the 21st century, there’s another option when it comes to collective memory, digital spaces, and they’re offering new possibilities for how we can memorialize stories like Draper’s. This website dedicated to Draper, for example, begins with an image of and quote from the family memorial and moves through the details of both Draper’s story and his father’s response, but then shifts to a series of references and links to relevant but increasingly broad historical contexts: the D-Day memories of both Allied and Axis troops; a line from Stephen Ambrose’s history of the invasion; an audio file of Eisenhower’s radio address; and then quotes from figures as varied as John Adams, Walt Whitman, and General Patton.The page, created by blogger and web author Rich Geib, is far less overtly connected to either Draper specifically or D-Day more broadly than the Bedford memorials, and I’m not suggesting a website can or should replace such physical historic sites. But for one thing, a website like Geib’s can connect audiences all around the world, most of whom will likely never make it to Bedford, to Draper and his story, and all the histories to which they are linked. And for another, such a site can provide those multi-layered historical and cultural contexts, allowing for deeper investigation and understanding of an individual soldier’s experiences, of the D-Day invasion and its aftermaths, of World War II, and of war and history at the broader and most human levels. As with anything online, none of those contexts can be taken for granted or assumed to be accurate or the last word—but neither could be a physical memorial, or any particular representation of a history or story for that matter. With a story like Draper’s, I would argue that the crucial first step is simply to remember at all—and this website definitely offers us new and potent ways to do so.Special post this weekend,BenPS. What do you think? Other D-Day stories you’d highlight or share?
June 12, 2014
June 12, 2014: D-Day Stories: The 29th Infantry
[In honor of last week’s 70 anniversary of the D-Day invasion, in this series I’ll highlight different ways we’ve told the story of that fateful day and its aftermath. I’d love to hear your thoughts, and any stories you’d highlight or share, in comments!]
On one subtle but lasting way to memorialize war service and stories.If you’ve seen either documentary footage from or feature films about the D-Day invasion and its aftermath, you’ve almost certainly seen a good bit of the 29th Infantry Division. This division, often known as either the Virginia 29th (because it is based out of Fort Belvoir) or the “Blue and Gray” (because it includes troops from Maryland and North Carolina as well as Virginia), was originally formed in 1917 and saw extensive service in World War I (and has continued to send troops to late 20thand early 21st conflicts), but is particularly significant for its prominent role in the D-Day landings: soldiers from the 29th formed a vanguard of the first wave of landings, suffering some of the most extreme casualties of any unit; and then advanced through France and into Germany, leading the Allied forces in that war-ending offensive.So as American military units go, the 29th Infantry probably rivals only the 101stAirborne (the “Screaming Eagles”) and the 1stInfantry Division (the “Big Red One”) in the prominence of its contributions to World War II. But while the Big Red One was memorialized in the 1980 war film of the same name, and the 101st (or at least a famous company within it) in the miniseries Band of Brothers , the 29th hasn’t received its own starring role in such a mainstream cultural text (the soldiers in Saving Private Ryan might be part of the division, since they are among the first wave to land on D-Day, but as far as I know their division is never overtly named). As a result, it’s fair to ask whether the 29this remembered much at all in our broad national conversations and narratives, outside of those with an interest in military history or the like. And while the division itself is partly just a historical entity, one that has evolved across nearly a century of different conflicts and stages, it is also a metonym for the thousands of individual soldiers who have served in its ranks, and whom we owe memory at the very least.There is one complex but definite way that we do already remember the 29th Infantry Division, however: US Highway 29, which runs roughly north to south across the whole state of Virginia. As the history at the first link there indicates, the highway long predates World War II, and was known in part as Virginia 29 for much of its history; it also includes multiple other segments with their own historically complex names, such as the Seminole Trail and the Lee Highway. Yet in the early 1990s, the Virginia General Assembly officially designated the entire highway the “29th Infantry Division Memorial Highway,” in overt remembrance of the division’s World War II service. Does that mean that anyone driving along the highway will likewise remember the 29th? Not necessarily, although there are frequent signs that could at least lead an observant traveler to want to learn more. But I would also argue that the name itself represents a meaningful way to memorialize the division, a historic site that spans hundreds of miles and is as grounded in the state of Virginia and connected to local communities as has been the division that calls these mid-Atlantic states home. I can think of few more appropriate ways to remember a divison like the 29th.Last D-Day story tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Other D-Day stories you’d highlight or share?
On one subtle but lasting way to memorialize war service and stories.If you’ve seen either documentary footage from or feature films about the D-Day invasion and its aftermath, you’ve almost certainly seen a good bit of the 29th Infantry Division. This division, often known as either the Virginia 29th (because it is based out of Fort Belvoir) or the “Blue and Gray” (because it includes troops from Maryland and North Carolina as well as Virginia), was originally formed in 1917 and saw extensive service in World War I (and has continued to send troops to late 20thand early 21st conflicts), but is particularly significant for its prominent role in the D-Day landings: soldiers from the 29th formed a vanguard of the first wave of landings, suffering some of the most extreme casualties of any unit; and then advanced through France and into Germany, leading the Allied forces in that war-ending offensive.So as American military units go, the 29th Infantry probably rivals only the 101stAirborne (the “Screaming Eagles”) and the 1stInfantry Division (the “Big Red One”) in the prominence of its contributions to World War II. But while the Big Red One was memorialized in the 1980 war film of the same name, and the 101st (or at least a famous company within it) in the miniseries Band of Brothers , the 29th hasn’t received its own starring role in such a mainstream cultural text (the soldiers in Saving Private Ryan might be part of the division, since they are among the first wave to land on D-Day, but as far as I know their division is never overtly named). As a result, it’s fair to ask whether the 29this remembered much at all in our broad national conversations and narratives, outside of those with an interest in military history or the like. And while the division itself is partly just a historical entity, one that has evolved across nearly a century of different conflicts and stages, it is also a metonym for the thousands of individual soldiers who have served in its ranks, and whom we owe memory at the very least.There is one complex but definite way that we do already remember the 29th Infantry Division, however: US Highway 29, which runs roughly north to south across the whole state of Virginia. As the history at the first link there indicates, the highway long predates World War II, and was known in part as Virginia 29 for much of its history; it also includes multiple other segments with their own historically complex names, such as the Seminole Trail and the Lee Highway. Yet in the early 1990s, the Virginia General Assembly officially designated the entire highway the “29th Infantry Division Memorial Highway,” in overt remembrance of the division’s World War II service. Does that mean that anyone driving along the highway will likewise remember the 29th? Not necessarily, although there are frequent signs that could at least lead an observant traveler to want to learn more. But I would also argue that the name itself represents a meaningful way to memorialize the division, a historic site that spans hundreds of miles and is as grounded in the state of Virginia and connected to local communities as has been the division that calls these mid-Atlantic states home. I can think of few more appropriate ways to remember a divison like the 29th.Last D-Day story tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Other D-Day stories you’d highlight or share?
June 11, 2014
June 11, 2014: D-Day Stories: Eisenhower
[In honor of last week’s 70 anniversary of the D-Day invasion, in this series I’ll highlight different ways we’ve told the story of that fateful day and its aftermath. I’d love to hear your thoughts, and any stories you’d highlight or share, in comments!]
On the complicated relationship between wartime and national leadership.The 44 U.S. presidents to date have shared one obvious trait (their gender); now that race can no longer be identified as a second (if it even could have been prior to 2008), one of the other most common characteristics of our chief executives has been a military background, and more exactly a prominent history of military leadership. From George Washington to Andrew Jackson and Zachary Taylor, Ulysses S. Grantto Teddy Roosevelt, virtually every significant American military conflict has produced at least one future president from its ranks of leaders. The link makes sense, both broadly (because of the leg up that any form of prior prominence can provide a candidate) and specifically (because of the veneration with which we generally treat our military heroes). But it also raises the complex question of whether military leadership can or should be correlated with national leadership.If we examine the case of the most recent military leader to be elected president, Dwight D. Eisenhower, there are good arguments on either side of that debate (George H.W. Bush was also a prominent World War II veteran, but as a naval aviator, not a general or other leader). On the one hand, Eisenhower’s experience as the Supreme Commander of the Allied Expeditionary Forces, and specifically his leadership role in planning and executing the D-Day Invasion, undoubtedly prepared him for many of the most significant elements to the presidency: not only strategic thinking and decision making, but also overseeing a huge and multi-layered organization, delegating to and trusting his team, and many other shared features of the two jobs. But on the other hand, political affiliations and oppositions are far different from and murkier than those in wartime, and military leadership in no necessary way prepares a person for engaging with (much less leading in response to) those issues; a fact concisely illustrated by Eisenhower’s unwillingness to publicly critique Senator Joseph McCarthy (despite private opposition to his efforts) either during or after the 1952 presidential campaign.Yet there’s one more layer to what Eisenhower helps us see about these different roles and identities: his famous farewell address, during which he critiqued the evolving military-industrial complex in strikingly overt terms. It’s fair to say that any president brings his or her past experiences to the job, and that in the best case those experiences inform the administration’s leadership in significant and potent ways. Moreover, the public perception of those experiences, particularly if they are as valorized as military heroism, can greatly influence how controversial presidential actions or perspectives are viewed and responded to. Which is to say, whether or not Eisenhower’s views on the dangers posed by the military-industrial complex were a product of his own wartime experiences (and it seems likely that they were, at least in part), his prior military stature afforded him the opportunity to make those statements, and more exactly to be perceived by a broad audience as someone worth listening to on those complicated and crucial issues. I believe the speech was one of Eisenhower’s most heroic moments, but it was also deeply tied to his other ones.Next D-Day story tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Other D-Day stories you’d highlight or share?
On the complicated relationship between wartime and national leadership.The 44 U.S. presidents to date have shared one obvious trait (their gender); now that race can no longer be identified as a second (if it even could have been prior to 2008), one of the other most common characteristics of our chief executives has been a military background, and more exactly a prominent history of military leadership. From George Washington to Andrew Jackson and Zachary Taylor, Ulysses S. Grantto Teddy Roosevelt, virtually every significant American military conflict has produced at least one future president from its ranks of leaders. The link makes sense, both broadly (because of the leg up that any form of prior prominence can provide a candidate) and specifically (because of the veneration with which we generally treat our military heroes). But it also raises the complex question of whether military leadership can or should be correlated with national leadership.If we examine the case of the most recent military leader to be elected president, Dwight D. Eisenhower, there are good arguments on either side of that debate (George H.W. Bush was also a prominent World War II veteran, but as a naval aviator, not a general or other leader). On the one hand, Eisenhower’s experience as the Supreme Commander of the Allied Expeditionary Forces, and specifically his leadership role in planning and executing the D-Day Invasion, undoubtedly prepared him for many of the most significant elements to the presidency: not only strategic thinking and decision making, but also overseeing a huge and multi-layered organization, delegating to and trusting his team, and many other shared features of the two jobs. But on the other hand, political affiliations and oppositions are far different from and murkier than those in wartime, and military leadership in no necessary way prepares a person for engaging with (much less leading in response to) those issues; a fact concisely illustrated by Eisenhower’s unwillingness to publicly critique Senator Joseph McCarthy (despite private opposition to his efforts) either during or after the 1952 presidential campaign.Yet there’s one more layer to what Eisenhower helps us see about these different roles and identities: his famous farewell address, during which he critiqued the evolving military-industrial complex in strikingly overt terms. It’s fair to say that any president brings his or her past experiences to the job, and that in the best case those experiences inform the administration’s leadership in significant and potent ways. Moreover, the public perception of those experiences, particularly if they are as valorized as military heroism, can greatly influence how controversial presidential actions or perspectives are viewed and responded to. Which is to say, whether or not Eisenhower’s views on the dangers posed by the military-industrial complex were a product of his own wartime experiences (and it seems likely that they were, at least in part), his prior military stature afforded him the opportunity to make those statements, and more exactly to be perceived by a broad audience as someone worth listening to on those complicated and crucial issues. I believe the speech was one of Eisenhower’s most heroic moments, but it was also deeply tied to his other ones.Next D-Day story tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Other D-Day stories you’d highlight or share?
June 10, 2014
June 10, 2014: D-Day Stories: The Longest Day
[In honor of last week’s 70 anniversary of the D-Day invasion, in this series I’ll highlight different ways we’ve told the story of that fateful day and its aftermath. I’d love to hear your thoughts, and any stories you’d highlight or share, in comments!]
On war as big-budget blockbuster.I was pretty hard on Michael Bay’s Pearl Harbor (2001) in this post, and I stand by one of my central critiques of the film: that its hackneyed and uninteresting love triangle significantly detracts from its focus on the significant historical events that are its ostensible subject. But on the other hand, my objection to Bay’s turning real, tragic war stories into fodder for an over-the-top Hollywood blockbuster left out an important broader context: that there is a long history of such big-budget, blockbuster war films, perhaps especially about World War II. Indeed, for most of the 20th century the most expensive black and white film was precisely such a World War II blockbuster: The Longest Day (1962; Schindler’s List [1993] was more expensive).Based on Cornelius Ryan’s 1959 history of the D-Day invasion, The Longest Day was in its own era and remains in ours one of the most ambitious film productions ever mounted. It runs for nearly three hours, features extended sequencesand plot threads in England, the Channel, and mainland France as well as the Normandy beaches and adjacent battlefields, utilized extensive international casts(including prominent stars) within each of those settings and communities, and required at least four directors (and probably its producer, Darryl Zanuck, as an uncredited fifth) tackling those different sections. Whether the film succeeds at bringing those disparate threads together into a cohesive whole is an open question, but through them—and through small but important details like the use of multiple actors who were also World War II veterans—it certainly captures many sides to the invasion, the war overall, and war stories and histories more generally.Yet even if Longest Day focuses on its historical subjects more fully than does Pearl Harbor, I would argue that the two films raise similar questions of what it means to portray war as spectacle, a blockbuster in every sense. Wars, particularly world wars, do exist on that scale; and perhaps it would not be possible to portray an event like the D-Day invasion without an attempt to capture its many different theaters and settings. But no matter what it does, a feature film will never be a historical document of an event, will always remain a creative representation and interpretation. And as such, it seems to me that historical films succeed if they capture not just the broad histories (which, again, Longest Day does) but also the individual and intimate stories out of which history is comprised and with which creative works can (to my mind) better engage. Am I saying that Longest Day could have benefited from its own love triangle? I’m not—but I am saying that its characters don’t feel quite as individually developed as they might, a perhaps necessary but still limiting feature of the war blockbuster.Next D-Day story tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Other D-Day stories you’d highlight or share?
On war as big-budget blockbuster.I was pretty hard on Michael Bay’s Pearl Harbor (2001) in this post, and I stand by one of my central critiques of the film: that its hackneyed and uninteresting love triangle significantly detracts from its focus on the significant historical events that are its ostensible subject. But on the other hand, my objection to Bay’s turning real, tragic war stories into fodder for an over-the-top Hollywood blockbuster left out an important broader context: that there is a long history of such big-budget, blockbuster war films, perhaps especially about World War II. Indeed, for most of the 20th century the most expensive black and white film was precisely such a World War II blockbuster: The Longest Day (1962; Schindler’s List [1993] was more expensive).Based on Cornelius Ryan’s 1959 history of the D-Day invasion, The Longest Day was in its own era and remains in ours one of the most ambitious film productions ever mounted. It runs for nearly three hours, features extended sequencesand plot threads in England, the Channel, and mainland France as well as the Normandy beaches and adjacent battlefields, utilized extensive international casts(including prominent stars) within each of those settings and communities, and required at least four directors (and probably its producer, Darryl Zanuck, as an uncredited fifth) tackling those different sections. Whether the film succeeds at bringing those disparate threads together into a cohesive whole is an open question, but through them—and through small but important details like the use of multiple actors who were also World War II veterans—it certainly captures many sides to the invasion, the war overall, and war stories and histories more generally.Yet even if Longest Day focuses on its historical subjects more fully than does Pearl Harbor, I would argue that the two films raise similar questions of what it means to portray war as spectacle, a blockbuster in every sense. Wars, particularly world wars, do exist on that scale; and perhaps it would not be possible to portray an event like the D-Day invasion without an attempt to capture its many different theaters and settings. But no matter what it does, a feature film will never be a historical document of an event, will always remain a creative representation and interpretation. And as such, it seems to me that historical films succeed if they capture not just the broad histories (which, again, Longest Day does) but also the individual and intimate stories out of which history is comprised and with which creative works can (to my mind) better engage. Am I saying that Longest Day could have benefited from its own love triangle? I’m not—but I am saying that its characters don’t feel quite as individually developed as they might, a perhaps necessary but still limiting feature of the war blockbuster.Next D-Day story tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Other D-Day stories you’d highlight or share?
June 9, 2014
June 9, 2014: D-Day Stories: Band of Brothers
[In honor of last week’s 70 anniversary of the D-Day invasion, in this series I’ll highlight different ways we’ve told the story of that fateful day and its aftermath. I’d love to hear your thoughts, and any stories you’d highlight or share, in comments!]
On nostalgia and nuance in one of our best recent representations of war.I’ve written before, in this post on images and representations of World War II, about historian Michael Kammen’s categories of remembrance and commemoration: the former an attempt to capture the past with more accuracy and complexity; the latter a more simplified and celebratory representation of history. Particularly interesting, I’d say, are the cultural texts that seem to include both types, and it’s in that category that I’d put Steven Speilberg’s Saving Private Ryan (1998)—the film opens with the famous extended D-Day sequence that is absolutely gripping in its realistic depictions of the battle in all its chaos and horror, a section that exemplifies genuine remembrance of such a historic event; but then the film segues into a larger narrative that, while still featuring realistic battle sequences, feels far more driven by various war-film cliches and commemorative ideals.Spielberg’s follow up World War II work, produced along with his film’s star Tom Hanks, was the HBO miniseries Band of Brothers (2001). From its title and famous promotional image on, the miniseries certainly reflects a deeply commemorative perspective on the men of Easy Company and, through them, on World War II soldiers and the Greatest Generation to which they belonged. Like Ryan, the series is unsparing in its depictions of the violence and horrors of war; but outside of one peripheral character, the company’s over-the-top and ultimately unfit-for-battle training officer (played to crazy perfection by David Schwimmer), its portrayals of the soldiers are overtly and consistently celebratory. And one of the series’ most unique and effective touches—the choice to begin each episode with interviews with the surviving Easy Company veterans whose characters are represented onscreen—would seem to add one more compelling layer to those celebratory depictions.But in fact I would argue the opposite: that the veterans’ interviews tend to comprise the series’ most nuanced remembrances of the war and its histories. The men talk openly and frequently, for example, about fear and exhaustion and apathy and other less-than-ideal emotions, reminding us that these were not Hollywood heroes but simply average young men thrust into an often horrifying and always uncertain world. And particularly striking are the group of interviews in which the veterans talk about Nazi soldiers, recognizing that they were similarly young and scared and human, and reflecting on what was asked of each group (to try to kill each other, to put it bluntly). Like the similarly striking choice to include in the series’ final episode a speech delivered to his men by a surrendering German general, these veterans’ perspectives complicate the kind of good vs. evil narratives that are necessary for pure commemoration, and remind us that remembrance of the war—any war—includes the histories and stories of all the involved nations and communities.Next D-Day story tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Other D-Day stories you’d highlight or share?
On nostalgia and nuance in one of our best recent representations of war.I’ve written before, in this post on images and representations of World War II, about historian Michael Kammen’s categories of remembrance and commemoration: the former an attempt to capture the past with more accuracy and complexity; the latter a more simplified and celebratory representation of history. Particularly interesting, I’d say, are the cultural texts that seem to include both types, and it’s in that category that I’d put Steven Speilberg’s Saving Private Ryan (1998)—the film opens with the famous extended D-Day sequence that is absolutely gripping in its realistic depictions of the battle in all its chaos and horror, a section that exemplifies genuine remembrance of such a historic event; but then the film segues into a larger narrative that, while still featuring realistic battle sequences, feels far more driven by various war-film cliches and commemorative ideals.Spielberg’s follow up World War II work, produced along with his film’s star Tom Hanks, was the HBO miniseries Band of Brothers (2001). From its title and famous promotional image on, the miniseries certainly reflects a deeply commemorative perspective on the men of Easy Company and, through them, on World War II soldiers and the Greatest Generation to which they belonged. Like Ryan, the series is unsparing in its depictions of the violence and horrors of war; but outside of one peripheral character, the company’s over-the-top and ultimately unfit-for-battle training officer (played to crazy perfection by David Schwimmer), its portrayals of the soldiers are overtly and consistently celebratory. And one of the series’ most unique and effective touches—the choice to begin each episode with interviews with the surviving Easy Company veterans whose characters are represented onscreen—would seem to add one more compelling layer to those celebratory depictions.But in fact I would argue the opposite: that the veterans’ interviews tend to comprise the series’ most nuanced remembrances of the war and its histories. The men talk openly and frequently, for example, about fear and exhaustion and apathy and other less-than-ideal emotions, reminding us that these were not Hollywood heroes but simply average young men thrust into an often horrifying and always uncertain world. And particularly striking are the group of interviews in which the veterans talk about Nazi soldiers, recognizing that they were similarly young and scared and human, and reflecting on what was asked of each group (to try to kill each other, to put it bluntly). Like the similarly striking choice to include in the series’ final episode a speech delivered to his men by a surrendering German general, these veterans’ perspectives complicate the kind of good vs. evil narratives that are necessary for pure commemoration, and remind us that remembrance of the war—any war—includes the histories and stories of all the involved nations and communities.Next D-Day story tomorrow,BenPS. What do you think? Other D-Day stories you’d highlight or share?
June 7, 2014
June 7-8, 2014: Crowd-sourced Beach Reads
[For the last couple years I’ve featured a summertime series on some AmericanStudies books you can pack along with the sunscreen and cold beverages. As summer approaches, it felt right to share some more beach reads, and this crowd-sourced post is drawn from the suggestions of fellow AmericanStudiers. Share your own favorites or summer reading plans in comments, please!]
Matthew Linton shares a couple recent works in U.S. intellectual history: Edmund Fawcett’s Liberalism: The Life of an Idea and Jamie Cohen-Cole’s The Open Mind: Cold War Politics and the Sciences of Human Nature .Osvaldo Oyola writes, “Hoping to read some Octavia Butler and Samuel Delany, and plug the unforgivable gap of Af-Am sci-fi writers in my reading.” (Heather Urbanski suggests “adding N.K. Jemisin to the list.”)Paige Swarbrick writes, “I’ve got plenty of Stephen King I plan on reading, including Pet Sematary , Joyland , and On Writing .”Ilene Railton highlights “Black Water Rising by Attica Locke—found it at City Lights Bookstore a few weeks back.”Heather Urbanski will be reading “ If We Shadows by D.E. Atwood—magical realism with Shakespeare and a trans* teen protagonist,” “plus stories nominated for The Hugo Awards this year.”Andre Carringtonhighlights “ Capital in the 21st Century , Mat Johnson’s Pym , and Samuel Delany’s latest gigantic novel.”Serena-Rose Ciccarello writes, “Sarah Dessen is my guilty pleasure & favorite for a beach read. Starting This Lullaby soon.”Jeff Renye notes that, “If I were going to the beach, I would bring Joyce Carol Oates’ The Accursed .”Anna Consalvo has “just finished Adichie’s Americanah. Beautiful and poignant commentary on race in the good ol’ USA and much more. All told through the details of Ifemelu’s day to day life and love.”Elizabeth Duclos-Orsello shares “ Passing Strange by Martha Sandweiss —just got my 12 year old hooked on it!”Jana Tigchelaarwrites, “I beach-read (and loved) Louise Erdrich’s Master Butchers Singing Club and Karen Joy Fowler’s We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves . I also think Edith Wharton’s Summer would be an excellent beach read.”In response to a Twitter question about poetry beach reads, Vicki Ziegler writes, “I would happily re-read Sue Goyette’s Ocean on a beach. Perfect poetry beach read!”AnneMarie Donahue shares, “Gillian Flynn's trilogy: Gone Girl (read it soon before it becomes a film directed by David Fincher and starring Batfleck!... in truth, that film is going to rock!); Sharp Objects; Dark Places! All are awesome and read very quickly. Also you will be the official badass at the pool or beach. Yeah, they are murder mysteries, but they are awesome, each has a nice and highly unpredictable twist at the end and characters that say 'go ahead, sum me up to your friends, I double dare you!' Then for the inner-geek who wants to get old school and show off to those GoT HBO fans... Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series. Both are completely nookable books, but you know these are covers you wanna show off. A good book is better than a string bikini, let's be honest.” AnneMarie also highlights Bernard Cornwell’s The Pagan Lord and David Foster Wallace’s Consider the Lobster .Finally, Irene Martyniuk adds, “I keep thinking about my closing plea to my European Literature II students a few weeks ao—now that you have finished this class, when you see a book by an author whose last name you cannot pronounce, read it! Or, and this is good advice for all of my classes, make it a goal to read one more book by one of the athors that we have read this semester. Or, at the beach, turn back to a book you were assigned to read in high school or college (or even junior high/middle school). Now read it for pleasure. Lord of the Flies is really good. Heart of Darkness is incredible. Even The Scarlet Letterdeserves more than a trip through Spark Notes. Finally, there are wonderful creative non-fiction books out there, which is more in line with what you wrote today, although your point about academic books being more accessible is far more clever than what I'm typing. The Devil in the White City by Erik Larsen (huge best seller) is worth the read, A Civil Action is still terrific. Stuff like that. Frankly, just read this summer.”
I couldn’t agree more! Next series starts Monday,BenPS. So I’ll ask again: what would you recommend for a good beach read? What are you hoping to get to by the pool this summer?
Matthew Linton shares a couple recent works in U.S. intellectual history: Edmund Fawcett’s Liberalism: The Life of an Idea and Jamie Cohen-Cole’s The Open Mind: Cold War Politics and the Sciences of Human Nature .Osvaldo Oyola writes, “Hoping to read some Octavia Butler and Samuel Delany, and plug the unforgivable gap of Af-Am sci-fi writers in my reading.” (Heather Urbanski suggests “adding N.K. Jemisin to the list.”)Paige Swarbrick writes, “I’ve got plenty of Stephen King I plan on reading, including Pet Sematary , Joyland , and On Writing .”Ilene Railton highlights “Black Water Rising by Attica Locke—found it at City Lights Bookstore a few weeks back.”Heather Urbanski will be reading “ If We Shadows by D.E. Atwood—magical realism with Shakespeare and a trans* teen protagonist,” “plus stories nominated for The Hugo Awards this year.”Andre Carringtonhighlights “ Capital in the 21st Century , Mat Johnson’s Pym , and Samuel Delany’s latest gigantic novel.”Serena-Rose Ciccarello writes, “Sarah Dessen is my guilty pleasure & favorite for a beach read. Starting This Lullaby soon.”Jeff Renye notes that, “If I were going to the beach, I would bring Joyce Carol Oates’ The Accursed .”Anna Consalvo has “just finished Adichie’s Americanah. Beautiful and poignant commentary on race in the good ol’ USA and much more. All told through the details of Ifemelu’s day to day life and love.”Elizabeth Duclos-Orsello shares “ Passing Strange by Martha Sandweiss —just got my 12 year old hooked on it!”Jana Tigchelaarwrites, “I beach-read (and loved) Louise Erdrich’s Master Butchers Singing Club and Karen Joy Fowler’s We Are All Completely Beside Ourselves . I also think Edith Wharton’s Summer would be an excellent beach read.”In response to a Twitter question about poetry beach reads, Vicki Ziegler writes, “I would happily re-read Sue Goyette’s Ocean on a beach. Perfect poetry beach read!”AnneMarie Donahue shares, “Gillian Flynn's trilogy: Gone Girl (read it soon before it becomes a film directed by David Fincher and starring Batfleck!... in truth, that film is going to rock!); Sharp Objects; Dark Places! All are awesome and read very quickly. Also you will be the official badass at the pool or beach. Yeah, they are murder mysteries, but they are awesome, each has a nice and highly unpredictable twist at the end and characters that say 'go ahead, sum me up to your friends, I double dare you!' Then for the inner-geek who wants to get old school and show off to those GoT HBO fans... Robert Jordan’s Wheel of Time series. Both are completely nookable books, but you know these are covers you wanna show off. A good book is better than a string bikini, let's be honest.” AnneMarie also highlights Bernard Cornwell’s The Pagan Lord and David Foster Wallace’s Consider the Lobster .Finally, Irene Martyniuk adds, “I keep thinking about my closing plea to my European Literature II students a few weeks ao—now that you have finished this class, when you see a book by an author whose last name you cannot pronounce, read it! Or, and this is good advice for all of my classes, make it a goal to read one more book by one of the athors that we have read this semester. Or, at the beach, turn back to a book you were assigned to read in high school or college (or even junior high/middle school). Now read it for pleasure. Lord of the Flies is really good. Heart of Darkness is incredible. Even The Scarlet Letterdeserves more than a trip through Spark Notes. Finally, there are wonderful creative non-fiction books out there, which is more in line with what you wrote today, although your point about academic books being more accessible is far more clever than what I'm typing. The Devil in the White City by Erik Larsen (huge best seller) is worth the read, A Civil Action is still terrific. Stuff like that. Frankly, just read this summer.”
I couldn’t agree more! Next series starts Monday,BenPS. So I’ll ask again: what would you recommend for a good beach read? What are you hoping to get to by the pool this summer?
June 6, 2014
June 6, 2014: AmericanStudies Beach Reads: The Chinese Exclusion Act
[For the last couple years I’ve featured a summertime series on some AmericanStudies books you can pack along with the sunscreen and cold beverages. As summer approaches, it feels right to share some more beach reads—please share your own favorite or future summer page-turners for a weekend post we can all bring with us to the shore or the pool!]
On a reiterated offer as my latest book enters its second year.It is, I know, very poor form to offer up one’s own book as a beach read recommendation. But on the other hand, we write to be read—and as I’ve worked hard to move my writing and books more and more into the kind of readable and engaging public scholarship category about which I wrote in yesterday’s post, I hope that the most recent one in particular, The Chinese Exclusion Act: What It Can Teach Us About America (2013), would not be out of place in your summer reading pile. And here at almost exactly the one-year anniversary of that book’s publication, I wanted to reiterate an offer I made back then: that I’m more than happy to send along a free e-copy of the book to anyone who is interested (feel free to email me if you don’t want to leave your email address in comments).If you want to get more of a sense of the book before requesting it, I’d direct you to two brief online pieces of mine:1) This one, which highlights the amazing life and community at the heart of my third chapter;
2) And this one, which highlights the tragic yet inspiring collection of poems that connect to the histories of immigration, law, and identity at the heart of the book.Again, we write to be read, and with this book in particular I have made it my central goal to share my writing as widely and fully as possible (hence the year of book talks, for example). So I’ll say it one more time—if you’re interested in bringing the book to the beach, or the pool, or camping, or anywhere else, and you have the ability to read online or on a device, please let me know and I’d be very happy to email you an e-copy. Thanks!Crowd-sourced post this weekend,BenPS. So last chance ahead of the weekend post: what would you recommend for a good beach read? What are you hoping to get to by the pool this summer?
On a reiterated offer as my latest book enters its second year.It is, I know, very poor form to offer up one’s own book as a beach read recommendation. But on the other hand, we write to be read—and as I’ve worked hard to move my writing and books more and more into the kind of readable and engaging public scholarship category about which I wrote in yesterday’s post, I hope that the most recent one in particular, The Chinese Exclusion Act: What It Can Teach Us About America (2013), would not be out of place in your summer reading pile. And here at almost exactly the one-year anniversary of that book’s publication, I wanted to reiterate an offer I made back then: that I’m more than happy to send along a free e-copy of the book to anyone who is interested (feel free to email me if you don’t want to leave your email address in comments).If you want to get more of a sense of the book before requesting it, I’d direct you to two brief online pieces of mine:1) This one, which highlights the amazing life and community at the heart of my third chapter;
2) And this one, which highlights the tragic yet inspiring collection of poems that connect to the histories of immigration, law, and identity at the heart of the book.Again, we write to be read, and with this book in particular I have made it my central goal to share my writing as widely and fully as possible (hence the year of book talks, for example). So I’ll say it one more time—if you’re interested in bringing the book to the beach, or the pool, or camping, or anywhere else, and you have the ability to read online or on a device, please let me know and I’d be very happy to email you an e-copy. Thanks!Crowd-sourced post this weekend,BenPS. So last chance ahead of the weekend post: what would you recommend for a good beach read? What are you hoping to get to by the pool this summer?
June 5, 2014
June 5, 2014: AmericanStudies Beach Reads: Amusing the Million
[For the last couple years I’ve featured a summertime series on some AmericanStudies books you can pack along with the sunscreen and cold beverages. As summer approaches, it feels right to share some more beach reads—please share your own favorite or future summer page-turners for a weekend post we can all bring with us to the shore or the pool!]
On the public scholarly work that’s as entertaining as its subject.I’m not recommending John F. Kasson’s Amusing the Million: Coney Island at the Turn of the Century (1978) as a great AmericanStudies beach read because it features on its cover an amazing 1897 photograph of five turn of the century young women baring their (I’m sure) fashionable bathing suits, although they certainly do reflect how longstanding the concept of summertime fun is. I’m not even featuring it because it offers one of the best historical and social analyses of one of America’s most famous beaches, although it’s true that I know of few if any AmericanStudies books that would feel more at home propped on your towel. No, I’m sharing Kasson’s book as part of this series because it’s that rare scholarly work that is just plain fun and engaging to read.Obviously Kasson’s topic helps with those effects—it would be both ridiculous and insensitive to expect a scholarly work about historical traumas or tragedies (for example) to be fun, after all. Similarly, a great deal of the pleasure of Kasson’s book comes from his well-chosen and evocative photographs and images of material culture artifacts, another feature of his particular subject matter. But it would be wrong not to credit Kasson’s voice and style with a significant role in his book’s readability and engagingness, just as it would be wrong not to admit that many scholarly writers (whatever their subjects) don’t consider those effects as nearly important enough (a function in part of the dissertation process and what it teaches, in part of the nature of academic peer review, and in part of in the insularity of any community’s particular language and jargon, among other factors).One way for our writing to get more readable is to read more great writing, and so if you’re an academic (like me, and this advice is meant for me for sure), you could do a lot worse for your beach reading than Kasson’s book. But whatever your profession, Amusing the Million is a pitch-perfect beach read—for all the reasons I’ve mentioned, and for many more, including its ability to help us understand our own new century’s society and popular culture, our own sites and mediums of entertainment and amusement, play and consumerism, spectacle and performance. In many ways we’re still living in the world Kasson lays out so evocatively and engagingly—and his book is so much fun that taking in those lessons about then and now won’t hurt a bit. Last beach read tomorrow,BenPS. What would you recommend for a good beach read? What are you hoping to get to by the pool this summer?
On the public scholarly work that’s as entertaining as its subject.I’m not recommending John F. Kasson’s Amusing the Million: Coney Island at the Turn of the Century (1978) as a great AmericanStudies beach read because it features on its cover an amazing 1897 photograph of five turn of the century young women baring their (I’m sure) fashionable bathing suits, although they certainly do reflect how longstanding the concept of summertime fun is. I’m not even featuring it because it offers one of the best historical and social analyses of one of America’s most famous beaches, although it’s true that I know of few if any AmericanStudies books that would feel more at home propped on your towel. No, I’m sharing Kasson’s book as part of this series because it’s that rare scholarly work that is just plain fun and engaging to read.Obviously Kasson’s topic helps with those effects—it would be both ridiculous and insensitive to expect a scholarly work about historical traumas or tragedies (for example) to be fun, after all. Similarly, a great deal of the pleasure of Kasson’s book comes from his well-chosen and evocative photographs and images of material culture artifacts, another feature of his particular subject matter. But it would be wrong not to credit Kasson’s voice and style with a significant role in his book’s readability and engagingness, just as it would be wrong not to admit that many scholarly writers (whatever their subjects) don’t consider those effects as nearly important enough (a function in part of the dissertation process and what it teaches, in part of the nature of academic peer review, and in part of in the insularity of any community’s particular language and jargon, among other factors).One way for our writing to get more readable is to read more great writing, and so if you’re an academic (like me, and this advice is meant for me for sure), you could do a lot worse for your beach reading than Kasson’s book. But whatever your profession, Amusing the Million is a pitch-perfect beach read—for all the reasons I’ve mentioned, and for many more, including its ability to help us understand our own new century’s society and popular culture, our own sites and mediums of entertainment and amusement, play and consumerism, spectacle and performance. In many ways we’re still living in the world Kasson lays out so evocatively and engagingly—and his book is so much fun that taking in those lessons about then and now won’t hurt a bit. Last beach read tomorrow,BenPS. What would you recommend for a good beach read? What are you hoping to get to by the pool this summer?
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