The Lebanexican

I can’t entirely blame the loss of my reading habit on the pandemic, because I stopped reading in February. As I recall, I became engrossed in “The Three-Body Problem” by Cixin Liu in January, and then…nothing. There were two books I picked up and abandoned in February: “Normal People” by Sally Rooney and “How to Do Nothing” by Jenny Odell, which I found excruciating. I always did my reading during my commute, pulling my current novel out of my bag and reading it on the J-Church, between Church and 20th and Montgomery stations in the morning, and then Montgomery to Church and 24th in the afternoons. As the cars ambled by Dolores Park, the doors blocked by strollers and nannies, I pulled out my book again and got through a few more pages. For whatever reason, I found that I could only read during that in-between place that was not work and not home. The ferry, the bus, the trolley car. Occasionally, a café, like the big, comfy chair at the Philz in the Castro, where I would often sit and read for an hour or so. Once I stopped commuting and I stayed home all day, my fiction-reading ceased.

But not for lack of trying. In addition to the two books above, I tried reading “Sing, Unburied, Sing” by Jesmyn Ward and “Circe” by Madeleine Miller. And maybe under different circumstances I would have finished them both, but I only got about a third of the way through the first, and barely into the second, without getting any further. Is it because I’ve lost my physical space for reading? Or have I lost my desire, my mental space?

I’ve tried picking up new books during this time. I’ve tried reading, because I don’t know who I am if I’m not a reader. Ever since I was a little kid, I’ve had my nose in a book. It feels like an important part of who I am. Susan the reader, that’s how I’ve always been described. Social media is great for keeping up with friends and jokes and keeping a finger on the pulse of what’s happening. But to get absorbed in a well-told story, in a world of the author’s own making, all in my head, populated by an ever-changing cast made up of the people I see every day- that’s an experience that I cherish, and that seems to be fading from me with each abandoned book.

I hope to leave this weird aversion to novel-reading behind with the rest of 2020. I hope to finish my current book, the second book in the “Three-Body Problem” trilogy, and resume my residence in the worlds of novels. I miss it there.

I wish I could say I spent the hours indoors these last few months training for the Iron Man triathlon, but I actually spent time in front of a TV screen when I wasn’t in front of my work screen. But when there was this much good TV, and so much ugliness going on in the world outside, television was even more of a refuge than usual. The shows below brought some

The Crown: I’ve enjoyed every season of The Crown, and even muddled through when some early episodes were slow-paced and seemed to offer little narrative reward, due to the stellar acting, writing and visuals (this is still Buckingham Palace, after all). But Season 4 had no dull moments, most likely because of the introduction of two new characters- Margaret Thatcher and Princess Diana. Season 4 had a voyeuristic quality, seeing the sad origins of the Prince Charles and Princess Diana story we all knew would end in tragedy, and seeing characters we knew were rotten, notably Camilla. One of the family members this season notes that new members of the family either bend or break. I thought about that as it relates to Kate Middleton and Meghan Markle. One bent, and one nearly broke.

Fauda: It came out years ago, but I discovered this Israeli series this spring, and quickly binged all two seasons. It was an action-packed take on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, and though believability was stretched in some places- I wondered how the main Israeli agent could speak such good Arabic as he went undercover in the West Bank- I thought the pacing was so well-done, first in the West Bank in season one and then in the Gaza Strip in season two. I enjoyed hearing some Arabic here and there (habibi tells me that romance is being discussed). I’m eagerly awaiting season three on Netflix.

Ted Lasso: So well-written and so winningly lead by Jason Sudeikis, Ted Lasso is the optimistic show we all need. How do you explain a Division II football coach being asked to coach an English Premier League soccer team? As the show explains it, he was hired by the team’s new owner, who hired him to sabotage the team, which she got from her boorish ex-husband in a divorce, and which she hopes to drive into the ground. So how does Ted Lasso earn the respect of the team and its English fans? With his winning attitude and endless supply of folksy expressions, of course (his tangent on the fabulousness of Alfonso Ribeiro is a highlight). I just may rewatch it. It’s that delightful.

The Last Dance: Another relic of the springtime quarantine, The Last Dance was something to look forward to for four weeks in a row. Did it take 20 years to put this documentary together? Who knows, but it was just what we needed at the time. The show that launched a thousand Jordan memes, this look at stardom and solitude in the person of one Michael Jordan was revealing about the man, but also the times, when If you had visions of basketball stardom in the 90’s, you had to step aside, because it was Jordan’s show, for better or for worse. The structure of the documentary was compelling, interspersing footage from Jordan’s final season with his early years in North Carolina. All in all, it was so entertaining and meticulously done.

The movie-viewing experience was different this year- no bucket of popcorn, no trailers, no sitting in hushed silence with a crowd of strangers. I’ve missed going to the movies, which for me means the Alamo Drafthouse in San Francisco, where I saw my last in-theater movie, “Little Women”, in February. Little Women didn’t make the cut, but a few other gems I saw on streaming made it. My top movies of 2010 are here, as well as 2011, 2012, 2013, 2014, 2015, 2016, 2017, 2018, and 2019.

What the Constitution Means to Me: To not address what it means to be an American in 2020 is to have a huge blind spot as an artist. It is to ignore, as John Mulaney memorably said, that there is a horse loose in the hospital. Broadway actress Heidi Schreck took audiences through a two hour meditation on the Constitution- living, breathing document that serves current and future generations, or a stale idea that has kept countless Americans captive? Is it the reason we’re so exceptional? Are we even that exceptinal, after all? Schreck takes audiences from the stale VFW hall in her hometown to a current day look at real-life competitors in constitution debates around New York City. What was surely a thrilling night of theater became a thrilling movie.

The Old Guard: This movie was an unexpected treat: a perfectly-made action thriller, where the action consisted of more martial arts and hand-to-hand fighting than gunslinging, there were clear lines between good and evil, and the classic trope of the, well, old guard initiating the newbie. Charlize Theron has proved to be a great action star after “Mad Max: Fury Road” and “Atomic Blonde”, and she ably leads this movie too.

A Hidden Life: This movie is for Terrence Malick fans only. I saw it in the early days of January and still vividly remember the music, the imagery, but mostly the urgent moral message at its core. What a way Malick has found of addressing the Trump era: the true story of Franz Jagerstatter, an Austrian who saw the fascism creeping in around him in the guise of Hitler and National Socialism, but also in the neighbors in his village, who we see ostracize his family as he is imprisoned for refusing to serve in Hitler’s army. We see how choosing fascism must have been deceptively easy, and choosing to stay true to one’s beliefs must have been extraordinarily difficult. The fog rising over the hills surrounding this Alpine village, the laughter of Franz’s children at play- Malick captures moments of beauty in this otherwise hard morality tale. It’ll haunt you.

Hamilton: What to say about Hamilton that hasn’t already been said? All I can say is that when it ws released on Disney Plus on July 4th, I was beyond excited. I had seen it on stage the previous fall, so I had some idea what to expect. But to see the original Broadway cast, expertly filmed, and to capture the raw energy of a live show, was something else. It’s also a time capsule of a time when black and brown Americans proudly wrote themselves into the story of America, which in the Trump era felt like an act of rebellion, and a relic of a long bygone time.

American Utopia: I’m not sure if this is best referred to as a concert film, or a Broadway musical, since it’s alternately both and neither. But it’s electrifying. I’m not necessarily a big fan of Talking Heads or David Byrne, but I love the way that he expertly mixes story, history and theatrics with his greatest hits in this show. The lighting and gray suits all lend it a signature look, and Spike Lee directs it with the oomph it must have had in the original performances. Thank God it was filmed. Lightning in a bottle was captured here. In a year when we couldn’t go to concerts, this was the next best thing.