I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings (1969)

I don’t suppose anyone needs me to tell them that this, Maya Angelou’s coming-of-age autobiography, is an exquisite book.  It’s gorgeously written, unflinchingly honest (I think that’s what boggles my mind most about the idea of writing about one’s own life – that nerve it takes to allow oneself to be so naked,) and at time sharply painful to read.  I couldn’t tell you why I never read it before now, but I also don’t think I’ve ever been in a better place in my life to recognize it for the masterpiece it is (some spoilers.)

The book paints Angelou’s life between the ages of three and seventeen, following young Maya from her early childhood in Arkansas to the North and West and back again.  The everpresent ugliness of racism permeates her experiences, as do the struggles of this young girl to discover who she is being forged to become in the crucible of extreme, cruel circumstances.  By degrees, she starts to understand what the world is, the place that people tell her she has in it, and the place she tries to carve out for herself.

Different elements are at play here, all employed tremendously well.  There’s stranger-than-fiction slices of life, like the story of a particularly charismatic worshipper whaling on the preacher in the middle of his sermon.  There’s beautiful character work, like the exploration of Maya’s brother Bailey and how deeply affected he is by the existence of their “Mother Dear.”  There are searing, horrendous passages, like the description of Maya’s rape as an 8-year-old.  There are intellectual ruminations, social commentary, poetic beauty, heartbreaking truths, and fierce individualism.  It’s at once a story containing fathoms and the story of one specific child.

I particularly love the deft exploration of race, including the influence of colorism and the intersectionality of being both Black and a girl.  Angelou covers the terrifying (Momma embodying the caregiver of every Black boy who’s ever had to agonize over his safety in an unkind world when he doesn’t come home at night,) the dehumanizing (the white dentist telling Momma there’s no way he’ll put his hands in Maya’s mouth,) the unifying (everyone crowded into the store to listen to a Joe Louis fight on the radio, needing him to win as a reflection of their own legitimacy as a people,) and the soul-crushing (the speaker at Maya’s graduation talking about the top-of-the-line equipment and new teachers brought in to improve the white school, while the Black school is getting money devoted only to its athletic facilities.)  In both large and small moments, threats of violence and microagressions alike, American race relations work their way into Maya’s life, and it is in that tempest of hatred, fear, and ignorance that she must come of age.

Just superb.  There’s nothing more for me to say, except that I feel fortunate to have read it.

Warnings

Sexual content (including abuse of a child,) violence, language (including racial slurs,) drinking, and strong thematic elements.

Top Five Audio Serials: The First Doctor

A while back, I started collecting the audio tracks for the lost First and Second Doctor episodes.  Now, it’s obviously terrible that the BBC scrapped so many episodes, but I love that all of them still exist as audios because of fans who recorded them when they aired in the ‘60s.  And really, it’s not so bad – the linking narration (supplied by assorted former companions) fills you in on whatever you can’t hear, the sound quality is surprisingly decent, you can flip through the telesnap “photo novels” on the BBC website for many episodes as you listen, and thanks to the Lost in TimeDVD collection, you can even mix in the odd “orphan” episode that escaped the cull.  Here are my favorite missing First Doctor stories.

“Marco Polo” (Series 1, Episodes 14-20)

A nice pure historical, unique for Who in that it’s an earthbound story that takes place outside of Western Europe (come to think of it, One’s era also us “The Aztecs” and “The Crusade” – when did the show get so reluctant to check out other parts of the world?)  I like the characterization of Marco Polo, and Susan’s friendship with Ping-Cho is a lovely side plot.

“The Crusade” (Series 2, Episodes 22-25)

Another historical that takes us across the world, this one featuring Richard the Lionheart.  It’s relies a little too heavy on exotic/barbaric foreigner tropes, but the storyline is interesting and everyone gets a chance to pitch in.  I like Vicki awkwardly pretending to be a boy, and the Doctor stealing period-appropriate clothes is just too much fun.

“The Myth Makers” (Series 3, Episodes 6-10)

Aaaand, how ‘bout one more historical?  (Side note – it’d be interesting to see new Whotry a story like this sometime.)  The Doctor, Vicki, and Steven are in good form during the Trojan War.  Highlights include Vicki posing as an oracle, the Doctor trying very hard not to invent the Trojan Horse, and Katarina (companion, we hardly knew ye!) thinking the Doctor is a god.

“The Celestial Toymaker” (Series 3, Episodes 30-33)

This story is pretty strange and doesn’t make sense too frequently, but it’s creative and neat – though not as awesome, it reminds me a little of “The Mind Robber” from Two’s era.  When the TARDIS gets trapped in an artificial world maintained by the whimsically sinister Toymaker, Steven and Dodo have to play for their lives to retrieve it.  There are fun riddles, creepy poems, and living dolls.  What’s not to like?

“The Savages” (Series 3, Episodes 38-41)

I wouldn’t have thought I’d put two Dodo stories on here, but the storytelling is so interesting that I couldn’t help it.  Here, the Doctor, Steven, and Dodo arrive in a seeming utopia, but of course, things are never as they seem.  The intelligent, creative, fit citizens have acquired their gifts at a horrific cost, and team TARDIS tries to make things right in this excellent sci-fi yarn.

The Railrodder (1965)

Today’s Buster Monday post is about an amusing little treat made toward the end of Buster Keaton’s career.  This was during the Keaton revival of the ‘50s and ‘60s, when people rediscovered Buster and loved him again, so this glorified promotional short is infused with a strong nostalgic streak that’s both loving and delightful.

The plot is incredibly basic:  an old man runs off with a little railway motorcar (like a maintenance vehicle) and rides from one end of Canada to the other.  The film is, in essence, a silent comedy married to a travelogue encouraging Canadian tourism, so it’s mainly 25 minutes of landscape porn augmented by all sorts of terrific Buster gags on a speeding motorcar.

Obviously, a 68-year-old Buster with lung cancer can’t do the same wild stuff he did in the ‘20s, but he’s still remarkably quick and spry.  Much of the humor comes from the assorted tasks he performs on the moving motorcar – cooking, laundry, hunting, etc. – and there are a few impressive close-call bits, most notably a scene of him barreling across a high bridge when the wind has blown his map against his face and he’s flailing around blindly.

While the film has minimal tumbling and only moderatelydeath-defying feats (sheesh, Buster – you’re slacking,) it has plenty of imaginative gags that play out in front of the picturesque backdrops.  Obviously, Buster can come up with train gags in his sleep, so there’s no shortage there.  I also like the recurring jokes about the apparently-bottomless storage compartment on the motorcar that supplies Buster’s every need on his cross-country trip, including a full tea service, and there’s a duck hunting sequence that is a thing of absolute comic beauty.

I love Buster’s manner and movement here, because it’s just like it was in the old days.  The way he carries himself, his big, telegraphed silent-movie gestures, how he leans into the wind, his hilariously-somber expressions, his timing – oh my goodness, his timing!  It’s like no time has passed at all, and I know how dorky this makes me, but I get warm fuzzies watching it.

The DVD for The Railrodder also includes a fabulous making-of documentary called Buster Keaton Rides Again, noteworthy for being twice as long as the short film it’s documenting.  In addition to seeing fun footage of Buster enjoying downtime after shooting, we also get the only significant footage of Buster actually working on the set a film.  It’s so cool to watch him laying out a gag for the director, sometimes sketching it or acting it out, and then see it realized in a shot from the movie.  He also helps frame shots, directs extras, and argues with the director over stunts deemed too dangerous (in Buster’s mind, it seems, nothing is too dangerous, but I see the director’s point – who wants to be known as the guy who got Buster Keaton killed on set?)  It really shows how much skill and precision went into crafting his comedy, and it also shows how involved he was in the creative process even when he didn’t take credit for the writing or directing!  Plus, his super Midwestern accent always makes me smile.

Warnings

Nothing, really.  Just a big helping of “don’t try this at home!”