favorite movie #53: bell, book, and candle

Favorite movies that have had an impact on me - #53 - Bell, Book, and Candle (1958) - A middle-aged Jimmy Stewart may seem a strange choice for a romantic lead, but he was, like Cary Grant, still the go-to star for such films in the 1950s. For his two most romantic roles of this era his co-star and object of his affections was the lovely Kim Novak — in Vertigo and Bell, Book, and Candle, both released in 1958 — in May and November, respectively. While Vertigo is a mystery about obsessive, voyeuristic love told only the way Alfred Hitchcock could tell it,  Bell, Book, and Candle is a light-hearted comedic romance about a witch who falls for her upstairs neighbor — it was one of the inspirations for the long-running television show Bewitched. Stewart and Novak have great chemistry here, as they did in their previous film. Jack Lemmon, Elsa Lanchester, Hermione Gingold, and Ernie Kovacs are all fun in supporting roles. One wonders if Jack Lemmon's trick with the street lamps of Greenwich Village might have inspired author J.K. Rowling almost forty years later ...

Novak poses with her familiar, Pyewacket

It's also an Xmas movie!

Kim Novak wears bewitching costumes by Jean Louis

the graveyard book

Happy Day of the Dead! The Gaiman-athon continues.

I really enjoy Neil Gaiman's writing. But this book, The Graveyard Book, is exceptional. It seemed at first a possibly odd choice for the Newbery Medal last year, but it was well-deserved. When one thinks about all of the grisly happenings in fairy tales, and how many things in the real world that can be sometimes perceived as frightening to children, a book like this is actually a balm.

Admittedly, it starts off with a bit of a shock, with a brutal murder of a family that unfortunately is not too far from the headlines of many local newspapers. The child that survives the attack, another "boy who lived," but with a distinctly different future in store, fortuitously crawls up the hill to a neighboring graveyard, where he is adopted by some kindly ghosts, and watched over by a young witch, a werewolf, and, although never blatantly stated, a guardian vampire.




The book of course has its fantasy aspects in featuring all of these creatures of the night and shadows. But what is its strong point, and what comes across most clearly in the reading, is how we, along with the graveyard's inhabitants, get the opportunity to watch little Nobody "Bod" Owens grow up, through all the struggles and childhood challenges he faces. He may be able to walk through walls and make himself disappear as long as he is under the protection of the magical Grey Lady and the graveyard, but when it comes down to it, he has many of the same issues as any sheltered child.

The world outside his graveyard home is dangerous—full of folks who may do him harm or, even worse, other children who may not want to be his friend, schools that teach things that may not be entirely accurate. We feel Bod's growing pains and his need to move beyond his supernatural family—all the time realizing that no one may ever love him as much as this family, but he will still have to go when the time is right. I could relate to Bod's need to break out of the protective cocoon. It brought back memories of my hitting the road for New York City as soon as I could fly out of the nest. But I also remember tearful nights in my new home and realizing that I couldn't go back—we can never really go back, even when we visit. Everything had changed. I had changed. I was in tears at the end of this book, both for my lost childhood and with the realization that I will sooner than I want to be living this timeless story from the other side, when my daughter is ready to leave home.

The other touching aspect of the novel are all of the dead characters. How many of us have lost someone, and wished or wondered if there was some sort of existence, similar to their living one, that might continue? Bod gets to know people from many different eras in his town's history. He gets a built-in history lesson as well as the reassurance that death is not final. He learns not to fear death or endings.

Gaiman may use a fantastic setting, but he is telling a true, heartfelt journey of growing up, for both child and parent.

The Graveyard Book is truly one of the most wonderful books that I have read in a long time.

Book #2 in reading challenge Cannonball Read 3, sponsored by Pajiba

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my life in libraries

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I come from a family of bibliophiles (and anglophiles, and Italophiles, but those are different posts.) We love books. We have tons of books. Books are not just things that you read and read again, but they are possessions, identity. Books are passed down from generation to generation. They tell things about us, who we are or were. From the sublime (complete editions of Shakespeare, gorgeous art catalogs) to the ridiculous—well, actually I don't actually consider any of these books ridiculous, but maybe more pop culture inspired—The Monty Python Bok, old Agatha Christie and Ray Bradbury paperbacks, children's books of my brother's and mine.

I have books of poetry and astronomy and American history that belonged to my dad—all enthusiasms of my his. He was a perpetual student. When I was just a child, he immersed himself, at one time or another, in the works of Virginia Woolf, and the life of George Washington and Thomas Jefferson, to name just a few. The rest of the family did as well, as he passed on interesting factoids from his reading along the way. Dad also had an impressive amount of books passed down from his father, primarily on chemistry and biology, but if they couldn't fill in the gaps of his current enthusiasm, his interests were indulged by visits to the local library. And I always was eager to go along. As Dad scoured shelves for what interested him, I did too, bringing home a stack of books on Greek mythology, or embroidery, or the complete Batman comics.

The other library-related wonder of my childhood was the bookmobile. It used to come to our neighborhood every two weeks and we would run with our stack of books, ready to replace them with new ones. It was amazing how much they could pack into that mobile library. I think I read the entire series of Nancy Drew books, as well as Little Women, Little Men and Jo's Boys thanks to the bookmobile. It was heartbreaking when we heard  that they weren't going to do it anymore. Budget cuts, I'm sure, but kids don't understand budget cuts. At least Dad was always willing to drive us to the library, which was quite a few towns away.

For a while, post-college, I lost my going to the library habit. If there was a topic or author I was interested in, I would just buy the book, usually at my favorite buy-or-trade used book store. I think it was good to support the small businessman, but the truth is that I have maybe, too many books. (I know it's a definite, not a maybe, but I'm in denial, as are my overstuffed bookshelves.) With the fabulous iBooks app on my iPad, I have also lately been able to download (both free and paid-for) books at the touch of a finger. At least only my virtual bookshelves are expanding.

I even work for a library, and constantly highlight its collections in my daily work, but didn't really use it personally, unless I had some family/genealogical research to do. A wasted opportunity, I know.


But last weekend I got a wild hare to check out the local library. And what a library! Four floors, fairly new, and chock full of books, movies, magazines—you name it. The children's floor is amazing. It's got all the right, fun things that of course the kids flock to first—a small room with a dvd-based-on-a-book playing, computers, fun and cozy lounging areas, fun decorations. I want to hang out there all day myself. But it also has a fabulous selection of books—from picture books to young readers to history, local and world—as well as all the classics and young adult titles. I like that it mixes in some of the popular young adult series titles, like the Percy Jackson and Harry Potter books, even if there is a larger teen-devoted section on another floor. Someone was really thinking about bridging the age gaps, in both directions, when they set things up.

 Playing a game on the computer
Between my mother, daughter, and myself we could have walked out with stacks and stacks of books, but we kept it fairly simple—five books to start. I mean, we can go back any time. And I know we will.

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