O Tenenbaums

Nerd alert!

Today's Beatific Gonzette piece isn't to commemorate an overlong Facebook comment that I'm proud of OR to say something about an Associated Press article, or EVEN to wish over and over again that David Lynch and Mike Patton would do a musical comedy show together. (With Crispin Glover?!?! Oh, wish, wish, wish.)

Today's Beatific Gonzette piece is still completely self-indulgent, but in honor of it being Christmas Eve, my thoughts are of trees and carols, oh tenenbaum, oh Boo Boo Tenenbaum, oh Royal Tenenbaum, and just like that we're on the subject of J. D. Salinger and Wes Anderson.

Much like my "Oh shit! Ted Raimi?!?" moment of joy when going through Twin Peaks for the first time earlier this year (I paused the show and ran out of the room to locate and tell my husband), I had an "Oh shit! I'm reading a Wes Anderson movie?!?!" moment when reading my first Salinger this summer.

Which is a silly and backwards reaction to have, I know.

But also a holiday-appropriate subject to write about, as the short season of intensive gift-giving is a perfect time to meditate on how cool books and movies--inexpensive gifts but awesome gifts--are. Doubly appropriate because it's a holiday season for appreciating friends and family. Wes Anderson movies remind me of my sister and our mutual friends and J. D. Salinger books remind me of my luminescent friend Abigail, who loaned me three of his books while insisting that I actually read them. (If you're reading this, hi Abby!!!).

I haven't finished reading them.

But I did read most of Nine Stories before having such a strong "this is awwwwwesoooooome!!!" reaction that I had to put the book down and run around my little apartment. In my most personal life, I am a dork.

I know that I'm not the first person to want to write about the ties between the movie The Royal Tenenbaums and Nine Stories. But this is my blog, I have a bit of travel time to kill, and I'm going to write about it.

In the short story The Laughing Man, the singular female character Mary Hudson wears a trademark fur coat, even when committing acts of minor athleticism, just like Anderson's film character Margot Tenenbaum. (While Margot was seen escaping school in her coat, Mary played center field in hers.) Both Mary and Margot also made cigarette use into a full affectation. Both used presence and absence like a private Morse Code. And both existed in their respective stories during bittersweet relationships with men.

In the short story Down at the Dinghy, a woman named Boo Boo Tenembaum feigns idyllic military connections to impress her child enough to keep the little boy from running away from home in a tiny boat. I would normally love to go through this story point-by-point with good attention, "vocally" enjoying each direct or psychological connection that this story shares with Wes Anderson's Royal Tenenbaums. But tragically, I am nearly at my holiday destination and I am horribly carsick from road-blogging as a vehicular passenger, and I need to stop writing for the day.

I hope that your holidays freakin' rule, Dear Reader. (Also, I dare you to search for "Yule Goat" on Wikipedia today or tomorrow.)