Yesterday I went over to Tim’s to tell him something, and he asked if I wanted to see the painting he’s working on. I’ve been very good about this. I’ve wanted to see it, and I DO have a key to his apartment, but I was waiting to be asked, because that’s the right thing to do.
When I saw it, I nearly cried. I love it so much. (I just reminded myself of Holly Hunter in Raising Arizona.) Someone is going to be very happy when he gets the painting he commissioned, but that’s all I’ll say about that. When it’s finished and I have the owner’s permission, I’ll add a photo to my page on Tim’s site.
Another good thing. I started reading a book called Third & Heaven by Ben Patrick Johnson with a lack of enthusiasm. I’ve just come off reading a ton of books, some better than others, and I picked this one up thinking, “Am I really in the mood for another funny but touching book about a group of friends who….” (you know, like I write, lol). Plus some of the reviewers on amazon.com trashed this book (or at least its author). I’ll say up front for anyone who may read it because of my recommendation that there are errors. The kinds of errors that happen when a manuscript gets edited and the author makes some changes and whoever inputs the changes accidentally doesn’t delete all the old words after putting in the new words. Having word processed many a document, I know exactly how this happens; I just wish someone would have caught them because they can be distracting and annoying.
HOWEVER, that being said, I began the book and immediately knew that it was better than what was written about it had led me to expect. These characters share friendships that are not all sweetness and light; they have a sharpness to them, in the way of “my honesty and impatience with you at this moment makes me want to cut out your stupidity and naivete with my words or my silence.” But they are still there for each other, even in flawed ways. The book had an edginess I didn’t anticipate, some sadness–deep sadness in one case involving crystal meth–and an ambiguously happy ending. Some things worked out, and some things have promise to work out, but it didn’t feel rushed and it didn’t feel too easy to me. Just real, because in life, some things really do work out, so a promising ending shouldn’t be dismissed. And mostly I was grateful that it wasn’t the “we’re all shallow and young buff-bodied beauties with tons of money and success but don’t you feel bad for our problems?” that many books set in L.A. can be. (And which seems to be some people’s assumption about the author, but I don’t know him, and I’m not writing about him, but his book.)
It is rich in moments. Moments when people connect. Moments when people wake up. Moments when people fail themselves. Moments when they rise to the best in themselves. Moments in which even minor characters who make brief appearances have a humanity–those fleeting encounters we experience in life that keep us sane until things are better again. Sometimes I was impatient with the characters, but I was meant to be, so the writing worked, and I like that in a novel.