Archive | Age Matters

‘Anne With an E’ Gets a B

If you are a diehard fan of “Anne of Green Gables,” perhaps you have postponed watching “Anne With an E,” the newest television adaptation of L. M. Montgomery’s beloved 1908 novel about a Canadian orphan with notoriously red hair. Originally released by the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, it hit Netflix in May, but I could not bring myself to watch the series after hearing it described as yet another “gritty, dark reboot.” Anne, I thought, should not be sullied by gritty darkness. Like another notoriously red-headed orphan (what is it about red hair and orphans?), she’s a paragon of cheerful pluck. Continue Reading →

Caftan Summer

I’ve been reading Eve Babitz yet again. I first read her at age 10, when I found a copy of Slow Days Fast Company at a yard sale and devoured it though I understood a quarter of the references. (Poppers? ménage à trois? It all made me so very hungry.) Sometimes it seems as if I’ve been reading Babitz’s books nonstop ever since. Her well-read, half-bred, doggedly unwed sensuality seeps into my pores, or maybe just finds its natural home in me. Anyway, today I finished an assignment early, so I poured a glass of wine and sat down with Slow Days,  which has been on my brain ever since I got back from the desert. The book fell open to this passage, which resonates on a level it never did when I was a willowy (anorectic) younger lady. Do know this is my Caftan Summer, in which I’ll only wear what flows and flows. So here’s Eve:

The truth is that when you’re as voluptuous and un-hair-sprayed as I am, you have to cover yourself in un-ironed muumuus to walk to the corner and mail a letter. Men take one look and start to calculate where the closest bed would be. This all happens in spite of my many serious flaws and imperfections, in spite of my being much too fat and everyone else being just right. The reason for this is because my skin is so healthy it radiates is own kind of moral laws; people simply cannot resist being attracted to what looks like pure health. Whoever is in charge of everything doesn’t want the survival of the fittest to come about just from wars and famine; whoever’s in charge also fixed it so people just naturally opt for health.

Ann Dowd: Committed, Compassionate

Beztie and I toasted the Summer Solstice by going to hear our favorite character actor, Ann Dowd, speak at the SAT-AFTRA Theater about her brilliantly built career, from Philadelphia with the late, great Jonathan Demme, to Compliance, The Handmaid’s Tale, and, our favorite, The Leftovers. Dowd’s the best kind of transplanted Masshole: compassionate, committed, plainspoken as fuck, and a matter-of-fact witch. Her favorite phrase: “Can you believe?” Also she speaks with audible em dashes and is a legitimate late-bloomer; her career didn’t really take off until she was 56. Since I believe celebs stop growing as humans the minute they get famous, she may be one of the only palatable ones around. Oh, we just loved her.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy