Booknerd Adventure: Unabridged Bookstore
To borrow a phrase from my mother-in-law, I already had a bee in my bonnet to visit my favorite bookstore in Chicago, Unabridged Bookstore. Then, I watched Ann Patchett’s appearance on The Colbert Report (see previous post) where she extoled the virtues of indie bookstores, and I was inspired. So I bundled up my 4 month old, strapped him in the Baby Bjorn, and hopped on over to Unabridged. (I’m lucky, this gem is mere blocks from my home.)
On a weekday afternoon, the store is fairly quiet. This is the perfect time to browse the shelves. It’s not the biggest bookstore in the world, but their staff is really smart, and their featured selections are usually right-on. In addition, the kids section is wonderful, and the whole basement is full of travel books. (I can’t think of a rival travel section anywhere in town.)
But the best thing about Unabriged is their amazing sale section. Where many stores use the word “sale” to clear out books that obviously were of no interest to people, Unabridged’s is full of stellar selections – a mecca for booknerds. I noticed books by John Irving, Christopher Moore, Sarah Vowell, Toni Morrison, and a plethora of other authors I truly care about. It’s hardly a dumping ground.
Sure, they didn’t have a couple of the books I was looking for, but I like my haul anyway. I got Bill Bryson’s “A Walk in the Woods” on sale for 5 bucks, as well as “The Philosophical Baby” by Alison Gopnik, and an adorable board book for my little guy called “A Book of Sleep.” Plus that, they are an IndieBound store and feature the “Next” lists of recommendations from which I’ve found several books I’ve loved.
Also, the bookseller on duty talked to my baby. I always like when people do that. And my baby smiled back. That’s an all around win.
**Since I’m trying to match Bookstore adventures with coffeeplaces of late, I have to give mad props to the Caribou Coffee across the street from Unabridged. Apparently I walked into a conversation about potty training little boys, and it was hilarious. Good times. **
“Mark Twain: Patriot, Teacher, Philosopher” presented by the Saint Sebastian Players
In all honesty, I’m attached to the Saint Sebastian Players. My husband has appeared in several of their shows and is in tight with the group. Like, so tight, there might be photos of my son in the program for “Mark Twain: Patriot, Teacher, Philosopher.” I’m just saying. 
SSP are a lovely group of friendly people who produce and perform live theatre in the basement of St. Bonaventure church in Chicago. They’ve been at it for a while – this is their 31st season – and they’re just good people who truly love doing theatre, and do it quite well. It’s church basement theatre, so you won’t be seeing any Sarah Kane angst or X-rated action, but if that’s your thing – it’s Chicago, I’m sure forty other groups can assist you.
“Mark Twain: Patriot, Teacher, Philosopher” is another success for the group. John Oster has compiled some of Twain’s lesser-known works into a sweet two-hour showcase of the talent of the legendary writer, as well as the talent of the assembled cast under the direction of Stephen F. Murray.
Using the framing device of Twain’s “The Diary of Adam and Eve,” Oster weaves five of Twains short pieces with some live folk music, and the whole thing comes off as a comfy, folky good time. Right out of the gate, Kelsi Karch’s Eve is likable and endearing, and she and her Adam (Dylan Parkes) serve as our guides for the evening – it begins and ends with them, as they portray the beginning of man and woman in the Garden of Eden through their old age, when Eve has died and Adam is left alone to remember her. Heads up, the final scene of the Adam & Eve arc is a complete heartbreaker. (You’re familiar with their sons, right?)
However, most of the show will have you chuckling. In one piece, Mark Twain himself (played by an affable Brian Hurst) runs for governor only to find himself surrounded by reporters for all sorts of salacious (and perhaps true) reasons. In “A Telephonic Conversation,” Laura Stephenson is an absolute stitch as a wife on the phone having a long-winded, bizarre conversation while her husband (Eric Prahl) looks on. There’s also “The French Duel,” which has two Frenchmen and their seconds preparing very seriously for a duel that is anything but serious. Murray keeps everything skipping along, and the whole cast seems to be putting their all into their roles.
Between all these pieces, a merry band of cast members appears and plays folk songs – “Down by the Riverside,” “Simple Gifts,” and “I’ll Fly Away,” among others. At intermission, it’s a jam session, and the audience at the opening performance was loving it.
Fans of Twain should head to this show, as should fans of theatre with a heart. It’s a charming, down-home time, and a nice way to spend a couple hours.
Printer’s Row – free preview issue with today’s Chicago Tribune!
For those who like hard copies, check out the free preview copy of the new Printer’s Row journal in today’s Chicago Tribune. Also, there’s a copy of “Clover” by Billy Lombardo – part of the Trib’s new journal as well. It’s certainly pretty, and I can’t wait to read it.
My Handmade Books class – update!
We’re working on two projects right now that are spanning multiple classes. I’ll have pics to show next Friday, byt I’m really excited about both. One is a library-style binding, and the other is the secret Belgian binding seen above. Mysterious, no? 
“The Flight of Gemma Hardy” by Margot Livesey
All knew about Margot Livesey’s “The Flight of Gemma Hardy” before I bought it was that it was an updated version of Charlotte Bronte’s classic “Jane Eyre” and had something to do with Iceland.
That was enough for me. You know I’m obsessed with “Jane Eyre” right?
This book is a really good read, but it works best when you take the novel it’s taken from out of the picture and read it on it’s own merits. Essentially, all this book shares with “Jane Eyre” is a basic outline. Gemma, like Jane, goes from being an orphan raised by her terrible aunt to a working girl at a tough boarding school, then becomes an au pair for a semi-mysterious older man who she falls in love with and leaves because of his secrets.
Rather than being a carbon copy, Gemma is a heroine that’s easy to like on her own merits. She’s ballsy and smart and a survivor. She’s also not hung up on God, as Jane Eyre notoriously is. Gemma’s actions are driven less by her religious fanaticism than her own gut instincts. The most interesting parts of this story are her search for herself, and her travels. She’s described at one point as a “wanderer,” and it fits. Gemma’s older paramour, Mr. Sinclair, is a lot more forward about his feelings for his young employee than a certain Mr. Edward Fairfax Rochester, who has beguiled and frustrated readers for centuries. (I was delighted that one of my favorite “Jane Eyre” characters got an update, too – Stand back, Blanche Ingram, Coco is all your snootiness consolidated into a few mere chapters.)
Without the melodrama of the moors and fogs and ghosts of Bronte’s original novel, certain events seem to not make much sense – namely, Gemma’s reason for leaving her beloved Mr. Sinclair. The reveal of Mr. Rochester’s crazy wife Bertha is certainly a reason not to marry a man. In Mr. Sinclair’s case, let’s just say there’s no madwoman in this attic. (I’m still not entirely sure why Gemma felt the need to run away from the marriage. I guess I’m still thinking about that.) Also, I had an issue with the way Gemma winds up “engaged” to a man named Archie toward the end of the book – it seems a little cliche, a little too much of the unbelievable stuff romantic comedies have been built on. This is a smart girl who could have easily and quickly fixed that whole situation. As far as the “update” aspect goes, with the setting being rural Ireland in the sixties and seventies, sometimes it doesn’t really feel like an “update” at all. Minus the presence of a few pieces of updated technology, like the airplane by which Gemma makes her way back to her roots, a lot of it still takes place in the middle of nowhere and there are a lot of rustic folks doing rustic things.
Overall, I enjoyed this book and breezed through it, driven mostly by the likability of Gemma. It’s a solid read, but it shouldn’t be compared to “Jane Eyre” in any sort of deep way. Gemma is Gemma, and Jane is Jane, and their stories are both worth telling, albeit in two different books.
FYI – Ms. Livesey will be in Chicago, reading and signing at Women & Children First on February 28th at 7:30pm. I’m absolutely going, and you should too.
March 3rd — Dr. Seuss Day at Open Books!
Y’all know I’m taking my baby to this, right? At least for the Storytime.
Valentine’s Day – “A Game of Thrones” style.
If you haven’t yet, you need to check out these amazing “A Game of Thrones” valentines by artist Chris Bishop.
Nothing says “I Love you” like Hodar.
(And if you don’t get the references at all, you should really catch up on HBO’s stellar television adaptation. )
Page to Stage: Edna Ferber’s “Show Boat”
When the musical version of Edna Ferber’s novel “Show Boat” opened in 1927, it was shepherding in a huge change in the American musical theater, and was actually quite radical for it’s time. Instead of vaudeville sketches and scenes, or opera/operetta, this was a brand new creature – a cohesive story told through songs and dialogue, with catchy songs and a serious plot. Not only did “Show Boat” revolutionize the genre, it also tackled some (for the day) heavy issues – including racism, a far cry from frothy shows such as “No, No, Nanette.”
Recently, I read Ferber’s original novel.
Yesterday, I attended the opening performance of the brand new (and pretty and shiny) Lyric Opera of Chicago production of “Show Boat.”
There are some marked differences between the source material and the show that’s onstage at the Lyric Opera, and I’m always interested in things getting changed during the process of adaptation, so I thought I’d break down the differences.
First and foremost, in Ferber’s original novel Cap’n Andy drowns on the Mississippi around the halfway point of the action. Kind of a major plot point, one would think. After this, Parthy (his mean-tempered wife) takes over the Cotton Blossom and runs it spectacularly well. Years later, Magnolia (Cap’n Andy and Parthy’s daughter) has become a star after being ditched by her gambler husband, Ravenal. Magnolia and Ravenal’s daughter Kim has grown into a successful and serious actress. When Magnolia learns of Parthy’s death, she returns home and finds herself inheriting a ton of money that Parthy made and saved. Then, Magnolia, realizing she belongs on the river and it’ll always be her home, takes over the Cotton Blossom and the novel ends on a high note where the reader knows Magnolia is exactly where she’s supposed to be and she’ll be fine – without Ravenal, the supposed love of her life. After all, it’s always been about the river for her, and she’s back where she belongs. Sister is doing it for herself, and it’s going to be just fine.
In the musical, Cap’n Andy and Parthy live happily together to a ripe old age, still chuggin’ along at the finale, and Magnolia (yep, a Broadway star) returns home for a visit. There, she meets Ravenal once again and the final beat of the musical leads one to think that there will likely be a reconciliation between husband and wife.
(I like the novel’s version better, personally. It’s profoundly more interesting.)
Regarding the leading lady of “Show Boat” – Magnolia, played at the Lyric Opera by the wonderful Ashley Brown, is described countless times in the novel as having dark hair. Yet, she’s blonde in this production, and pretty much every production ever. This has something to do with the “blonde soprano ingenue” thing that the world is obsessed with. “Show Boat” is really Magnolia’s story, and the musical remains true to that — even if they have her becoming a Broadway/Follies star after Ravenal leaves her, instead of supporting herself and eventually gaining fame by singing “negro spirituals” and playing a banjo.
(Hands down, Ashley Brown gave my favorite performance of the show. She’s a lively actress who believably ages from a silly teenager to a middle-aged woman, sings like a dream, and gets to wear all manner of wonderful costumes. She’s a smash. Not bad for a “Disney soprano,” as the press materials bill her.)
Acclaimed singer Nathan Gunn plays Gaylord Ravenal at the Lyric Opera, and in both the book and movie he’s a strangely underwritten character. All we know is that he’s a gambler who is weirdly upbeat about the fact that he’s not actually very good at gambling. Oh, and he killed someone a year before the events of the novel/show. Supposedly the killing was done in self-defense, but it’s still built up in the polot as a major game-changer. Then, in both the book and the show, when this grand revelation happens, it doesn’t actually change anything. Magnolia still marries him happily, and Parthy never liked him anyway Heck, Cap’n Andy admits that HE has even killed someone, as if ti’s no big deal and something you don’t tell your wives. (Aren’t you glad you don’t live in 1927? )
Also, the musical implies that Cap’n Andy tells Ravenal to ask Magnolia to marry him. In the musical, the lovebirds sneak off to be wed and it’s not discovered for ten days afterward — and when it is, there certainly isn’t a parade.
The one character’s arc that remains mostly the same is that of Julie, the leading lady of the Cotton Blossom who is forced to leave the show boat after it’s discovered that she has “negro blood” in her and is married to a white man – which was against the law back in the day. In the musical, Julie is seen again years later, drunk and singing in a nightclub. When Magnolia, needing a job, shows up to audition, Julie bails, thereby giving Magnolia the break she needs after Ravenal has headed off to wherever. In the original novel, Julie still comes to ruin, but she’s working in a whorehouse that Magnolia is forced to visit when she decides to pay back a loan Ravenal took from a Madam.
Unlike Julie, Elly’s role is completely different. Basically, Elly is likable in the musical. She’s a silly comedienne, and as played by Ericka Mac, delivers a breath of fresh lively air when the show gets too serious. Also, later on, when Magnolia is down on her luck it’s Elly and Frank that get her the audition that winds up being her big break. Whereas, in the novel, Elly is described as “something of a shrew,” ignorant, and maybe even a germophobe. (She spends hours boiling water to clean things.) After it’s revealed that – gasp – Julie is black, the novel’s Elly throws a big giant racist temper tantrum. A few seasons later, she dumps Schultzy and runs off with a gambler, leaving everyone in the lurch – which is how Magnolia gets her big break performing on the boat. At the end of the novel, when Magnolia returns for Parthy’s funeral, Elly is back working on the boat again – still playing ingenues, despite the fact that she’s much older and her looks have faded significantly.
(It should also be noted that the novel has Elly and Schultzy – known as Frank in the musical – as the juvenile leads and Julie and Steve as the character team, while in the musical it’s reversed.)
Whew. What else?
- Kim, the daughter of Magnolia and Ravenal, is a much more substantial character in the novel than in the musical, where she appears briefly.
- Queenie and Jo (spelled “Joe” in the musical’s libretto) aren’t nearly as big a part of the action in the novel – though they’re there, they kind of disappear in the end of the book, and no real characterization is ever given to either. (Though Jo does spend most of his time in the novel singing, so “Ol’ Man River” makes a lot of sense. FYI – The song is wonderfully delivered by bass Morris Robinson.)
- The novel has a character named Windy who is the pilot of the Cotton Blossom, but he’s nowhere to be found in the musical.
- The novel goes much deeper into the ups and downs of the Ravenal family once they go to Chicago — and how quickly they go from fancy hotels to shoddier quarters depending on how Ravenal’s gambling luck is doing.
- It’s Magnolia’s idea to put Kim in the convent, so the kid (used to staying in hotels one day and shacks the next) can have some stability. The musical implies that it was Ravenal’s idea, as he wanted Kim to have only the best.
Despite these changes (which are understandable, as turning an epic novel into a musical requires some cut and paste) both the novel of “Show Boat” and the Lyric Opera’s current production are both absolutely worth your time. Director Francesa Zambello has assembled a top-notch cast (of, I think, eighty people?) who clearly love the material they’re performing, and hired some of the best designers around to bring the show to life. Paul Tazewell’s costumes are divine, and Peter J. Davison’s set showcases perfectly why this show doesn’t get done often — it’s a marvelous, sizable, beast.
“Show Boat” makes me happy, plain and simple – whatever version it is.
