Reading Journal 2024: Loving Disagreement: Fighting For Community Through The Fruit of the Spirit. Authors: Kathy Khang and Matt Mikalatos
My awareness of this book and its authors came from being a subscriber to and active listener of The Faacinating Podcast, which both authors co-host with fellow pastor and author JR Foresteros. One of the reasons it came on my radar was because they mentioned the book during their end of the year top lists of favorite reads alongside On Repentance and Repair: Making Amends in an Unapologetic World, a book I also bought and am reading alongside this one.
They explain the genesis of this book in the first chapter, born from an idea to tackle the subject of disagreement using the diffeent perspectives of the two authors. The way the book is structured is, each writer takes an assigned chapter on one of the fruits of the spirit, writes a reflection in relationship to navigating disagreements through the lens of this particular fruit, and then end each chapter with some back and forth responses between the two of them regarding the initial thoughts. It’s intended not just to offer insight and ideas, but to actually put it into practice with the two writers speaking from their different places, opinions, and vantage points.
It’s an interesting approach, one that will bear more fruit (pun intended) if you find a connection with one of the two authors. If you don’t, there is a chance that the dialogue portions might become more of an observational exercise than an immersive one. Even if thats the case, the actual reflections are compelling enough to make this a worthwhile read. There are some insights that will remain with me, such as the portion that speaks to the history of the word blessed, the idea that joy cannot be bought, but it can be intentionally shared and multiplied, that peacemakers don’t dismantle conflict, they actively make a world where conflict exists a different and better one, more beholden to the world God desires and intended, that righteousness is not good works but rather completeness or wholeness, that patience is a willingness to wait in ways that contrast the things that oppose the fruits without a guarantee of outcome, that goodness is inherent and declared not earned, that faith is not belief but an active and trusted allegiance to Gods goodness (faithfulness), that faith is public not private, that gentleness is not passive but proactive in its empathy, and that love is a multifaceted concept.
Perhaps most important, the authors remind us with the chapter on self control that the fruit does not mean we get these right. In fact, the biblical witness is expressive in its qualitative picture that we get these things wrong, likely more often than not. The fruits also don’t function in isolation. To lack in one is to compromise them all. The good news of the Gospel is that these fruits are an embodiment of the nature and character (or name) of God. We find them in God even as we strive to embody them in our lives in ways that don’t always bear the fruit we want in our relarionship to God, one another, and the world. The fruits don’t function as a way of knowing ourselves (as in, this person is patient and this person is not), they function as a way of knowing God, and as we know God, we know the hope that God is love, that God is patient, and that God is above all faithful to His promise to make what is wrong in this world right. To pursue the fruits of the spirit is to find our hope in this.
Important words for me as this book crossed my path in the midst of some real and important interpersonal conflict. It’s a reminder that if I felt the fruits of the spirit weren’t being made evident in my life in the midst of disagreement, then I was also not bearing out the fruit I hoped for in my own life. Meaning, I had lost sight of God in the midst of it. One of the beautiful things about how the fruits work is that all it takes is putting one into practice for all the others to come into view. And with that a renewed knowledge of the fullness of God.
Legends and Lattes became the literary poster child for cozy fantasy through sheer word of mouth over a very short period of time. Tha author even touches on this fact in the authors note at the end of the book, speaking about the challenge of now writing to (or for, or against) expectations.
In truth, this is more of the same. If you liked or appreciated the first for what it was (cozy fantasy without a lot of substance), you’ll probably have a decent time with this follow up prequel. If you loved the first, I imagine you might find this a bit underwhelming. Part of that, I imagine, will be some slight inconsistencies in tone from the first half to the second.. I think some of that might come from the decision to pen a prequel this soon into the book’s world building. At best it compliments the first as a somewhat stand alone story. At worst it fails to prove why it needed to exist, as I’m not convinced it adds a ton to the characters and the story that we find in Legends and Lattes. If it existed in light of, say, 4 or 5 books and an built out world full of characters and stories, I imagine this would make more sense as a quaint addition.
it is not bad, and I definitely didn’t hate it. For me it just didn’t do enough to captivate my attention or even fully warrant an excape.. I left it feeling like I would have much preferred an actual sequel.
Reading Journal 2024: My Father and Atticus Finch: A Lawyer’s Fight For Justice In 1930’s Alabama Author: Joseph Madison Beck
While Harper Lee is on record saying that the story of To Kill a Mockingbird was not modeled after Joseph Becks trial case of a black man (Charles White), at least part of this research project, undertaken by Beck’s son, Joseph Beck, was driven by the curiosity to explore the possibility. Mostly though it’s the product of one man’s desire to learn the story of his father through parsing through the details of his most famous case.
The story is told from the voice of the son, bouncing back and forth between his observations as he uncovers bits and pieces through his research, and dramatized treatments of pivotal points in his father’s life as he prods and grows his way through the case. As such, we get a detailed picture of life in the south and the racism that held it in its grip, even as the seeds were being planted for potential change.
It’s an easy read. The end of the book offers some reflection on the parts of Beck’s case that parallel Lee’s novel, and the parts that deviate. As such, it leaves one always uncertain about which way this story is going to go, in line with the book or travelling it’s own course. This becomes part of the intrigue.
I picked it up at a local bookstore during my trip to the south, including to Monroeville. Looked like it might be a good snapshot of the history and the culture, being a real life version of the iconic Mockingbird. and it satisfied those hope’s.
Sometimes they arrive as a matter of intent. From a desire to seek something new, to take on new challenges, to grow.
Sometimes they take you by surprise. It forces itself on you, unwanted and unexpected.
Sometimes they express optimism and hope, sometimes they rob you of that optimism and hope
Its tough to know how to express this one in my life beyond the simple words, it’s not what I wanted, but it is where I find myself.
And with it comes so much loss.
A loss of identity. A loss of security and stability. A loss of a job that has afforded me healing and a rhythm of life over the past 11 years. A loss of faces, routines, sights, community that have been important facets of my life. Losses that are permanent. Losses that one has to deal with while carrying the mental, emotional, and physical weight of everything that brought you to this point.
It’s a reminder of the ways life can snap its fingers and threaten to erase all the things you place your hope in. The ways it threatens to shake up your sense of confidence in the things that matter, in the things that mean something. The way it can cloud the beauty and the joy.
It’s a reminder of the way the world works. The transient nature of these things we call jobs. The ugliness of power systems and conflict. The reality of how the natural world works behind the beauty, threatening to tell you that when you aren’t strong enough, you don’t survive.
And yet, as my last day reminded me of, it can also represent a microcosm of how beauty and hope do coexist within the ugliness.
A school full of kids lining up outside to wave me off on my final run Kids I’ve journied with since they were young sharing their memories Kids using their gifts talents to create wonderful keepsakes Sharad tears. Shared laughter. Hugs. Promises. Prayers. Notes. Messages.
I don’t know how I manage this transition looking forward. I don’t know that this tension ever truly goes away.
But I do know that I have experienced both.
The pictures posted with this reflection bear witness to this.
And, where i can gain perspective, there is a sense that beauty and hope arrive in necessary response to the ugliness, affording us the ability to seize intent from the unwanted thing that was thrust upon us.
My devotional from Wright’s book On Earth As it Is in Heaven this morning felt timely. It is a book that journies through the liturgical seasons of the church using his larger body of work. It is a word for “Christmas”, that time that reflects the sense of newness we claim from living in the “time inbetween”. A time in which we declare the truth that Jesus has done something new, and that we are living in this newness- the kingdom of God has arrived and the forces of Sin and Death have been defeated. But we also see, as Wright calls it, the Powers of Sin and Death still at work in our lives and in this world. That is the tension we carry into this thing we call existence.
Speaking of new beginnings in light of the symbolism of Gods 7 days of creation, Wright says,
“The sabbath was the regular signpost pointing forward to Gods promised future, and Jesus was announcing that the future to which the signpost had been pointing had now arrived in the present…
Something new is happening; a new time has been launched; different things are now appropriate. Jesus has a sense of rhythm to his work, a short rhythm in which he will launch God’s kingdom, the Gods-in charge project, and complete it in the most shocking and dramatic symbolic act of all.”
Fittingly, I started the year with Wright, reading through his earliest work (What Saint Paul Really Said) and ended with his most recent work (Into The Heart of Romans). Inbetween, I finally finished his magnum opus (The New Testament in its World).
All three of these books emphasize three crucial facets of Wright’s work- the presence of temple, outlining the Exodus and creation as themes that run through the whole of the NT, establishing the foundation of new creation and human vocation as the primary expression of these themes, and establishing the importance of the story of Israel when it comes to making sense of and telling the story of Jesus.
There is something of a parallel here to reading through King: A Life and Abraham Joshua Hesschel’s Moral Grandeur and Spiritual Audacity side by side, two books speaking to the same time and similar contexts while imagining the promise of liberation in the face of great oppression.
These were books I read as part of a pilgrimage down to the deep south, and if the story of creation and the story of the Exodus and the story of Jesus is going to make sense to me, it needs to make sense to these places and these experiences. If I am going to make sense of the story of creation, of the Exodus, of Jesus, then I must make sense of these places and these experiences.
Speaking of travel, I have long been fascinated by the Mississippi, having travelled the river road myself, and Life on the Mississippi: An Epic American Adventure was a great entry into discussions about the river’s story and its history.
It’s a story about experiencing the river from the perspective of its heyday, but even more it’s a story about the socio-economic development that brings the river, and indeed the river as a symbol of America, to where it is now. From this end it invites philosophical, spiritual and moral reflection, connecting its sense of place to experience and travel to knowledge. Paired with this was River of Dreams: A Journey Through Milk River Country by Liz Bryan, a book that does a really great job of exploring the role of its river in the development of southern Alberta and Montana, shifting borders and all.
Later in the year I traveled the world through maps, the book The Map Tour: A History of Tourism Told Through Rare Maps taking me on a journey from the Grand Tour to Globalization, proving to be a fascinating way to consider the worlds development by way of travel.
Seeing the way that the history of tourism connects to the construction of our global realities, much of this hinging on the direction in which tourism flows, was as fun as it was enlightening. In a more specific way, I picked up the book Gichigami Hearts: Stories and Histories From Misaabekong by Linda Grover on a trip to Michigan.
It tells the story of Duluth from the perspective of its people and their relationship to the land. Its part memoir, part lore, and a deeply personal ode to the place’s deep spiritual heritage.
I could also throw Malcolm Harris’ Palo Alto: A History of California, Capitalism,and the World and Silver, Sword, and Stone: Three Crucibles in the Latin American Story into the mix as solid examples of using the specificity of a place, a reality, or an idea to trace a global history. Both were thought provoking, and, to differing degrees, entertaining reads.
Or Tom Holland’s Pax: War and Peace in Rome’s Golden Age was a great book about how understanding Rome is crucial to understanding the modern West, especially as it relates to history.
I also faced some big questions over the course of my reading in 2023:. David Moffitt’s Rethinking the Atonement: New Perspectives on Jesus’ Death, Resurrection and Ascension had me challenging certain conceptions about the person and work of Jesus by looking at what the language of sacrifice actually meant to the ancient peoples.
Forgiveness: An Alternative Account by Matthew Potts had me re-examining the nature of forgiveness and its relationship to God, justice, and salvation. A truly transformative read that I wish I could put into the hands of everyone.
The Samaritan Woman’s Story: Reconsidering John 4 by Caryn Reeder had me exploring a familiar passage with fresh eyes, challenging the ways this passage has been read and used through the lens of certain conceptions of womanhood.
Marty Solomon had me asking better questions in Asking Better Questions of the Bible: A Guide For the Wounded, Wary, and LongingFor More while Flood and Fury: Old Testament Violence and the Shalom of God by Matthew Lynch had me looking more closely at our assumptions of violence in the Bible, and more specifically the whole of the Biblical narrative.
Dru Johnson had me reconsidering the definition of knowing from its biblical context, or from the context of the world behind the text in Biblical Knowing: A Scriptural Epistemology of Error.
Maybe this is why I found myself, then, reading through the existentialists. Philosophy of the Heart: The Restless Life of Soren Kierkegaard/Sickness Unto Death (Clare Carlisle/Kierkegaard) being my favorites.
I loved how the story of the famed existentialist philosopher, along with his words, flesh out the some of the biggest challenges and struggles of existence, searching as it does for authenticity amidst the illusions. I could also throw Monothreeism: An Absurdly Arrogant Attempt To Answer All the Problems of the Last 2000 Years in One Night at a Pub by JD Lyonhart, a book that delves into the deeper philosophical problems relating to God and the world.
It is not a perfect book, and the further it goes along the more it gets bogged down in a potential need to posit answers, but it does a good job at boiling things down to a necessary foundation. The questions we ask are less rooted in answers as they are in establishing that foundational assumption (or assumptions) that functions as our starting point, and giving us a place to begin exploring from.
Perhaps on the more liberative side is my journey through the Gospel of John with Scott Mcknight’s commentary John: Responding to the Incomparable Story of Jesus, a book that really brings to life the grand vision of John’s Gospel as an appeal to belief in the hope of the person and work of Jesus.
John and the Others: Jewish Relations, Christian Origins, and the Sectarian Hermeneutic by Andrew Byers functioned as a perfect tandem read, with Mcknights commentary on John, probing the ways in which the assumption of a fervent anti-Jewishness in the Gospel of John has led to modern studies and interpretations doing great harm, largely missing the boat in terms of what the biblical writer(s) wanted to say with the Gospel narrative.
Beholding: Deepening Our Experience in God by Strahan Coleman and the Givenness of Things: Essays by Marilynne Robinson were both enriching experiences that challenged my conception of reality and re-imagined the relationship between academics/intellectualism and matters of the Spirit in compelling ways.
Reader Come Home: The Reading Brain in a Digital World by Maryanne Wolf, and Portable Magic: A History of Books and Their Readers both have their strengths and weaknesses as an overall project, but they are reads that still remain in my consciousness as a celebration of the power and meaning of books, and further a compelling conversation about the relevance of how we read and why.
With 2023 having turned the calendar corner, its time to be looking ahead. Looking at the current slate of official film releases in 2024, which, if the last few years have been any measure should be taken more as a starting point than written in stone, the first thing that jumps out is the #2: Gladiator 2, Beetlejuice 2, Inside Out 2, Dune Part 2, Joker Folie a Deux. And if it doesn’t have #2 in its title, it bears the mark of a sequel- Kung Fu Panda 4, Spiderman: Beyond the Spider-verse, Maxxxine, Ghostbusters: Frozen Empire.
Now don’t get me wrong, Dune Part 2, after being bumped to its present spring release slot, is legitimately one of the biggest and most anticipated releases of the year, while Joker, Inside Out, Beetlejuice and Gladiator find their intrigue from being the vision of their original Directors and cast. Maxxine, Spiderverse and Kung Fu Panda are all part of a larger vision and are eagerly awaited conclusions to a beloved series. And who knows, given the genuine surprise of the recent Ghostbusters reboot, maybe the follow up can deliver.
Beyond the sequels, it is worth noting the visible absence of the usual big ticket items. Barely a hint of the usual Marvel titles, although I’d be lying if I didn’t say Madame Web looks interesting.
No Star Wars. No Avatars. 2024 is even lucky to have Dune 2 on its side after being pushed from its original 2023 spot, which will arguably be this years biggest money maker. Does this bode well for theaters? On one level, no. But if I could be optimistic, I might say that maybe the film industry could use this space to find a bit more balance. After all, I’m not sure relying on Barbenhiemer and Super Mario Bros to carry your year necessarily shouts healthy or sustainable. Behind the slate of sequels in 2024 are a collection of original titles that hopefully will have a chance to find success. Here are the ones I’m most looking forward to:
Nosferatu Yes, I know. Technically not an original, being a remake of the 1922 horror classic. However, in the hands of Rogert Eggers, its likely this will be the most original horror film we see all year. Can’t wait to see what he does with the gothic tale of love an vampires.
Civil War Speaking of famed Directors, new Alex Garland is always enough to make me sit up and take notice. This feels like part of A24’s push towards bringing in more populist material and big budget fare, and I’m torn on this idea to be sure. This film also feels oddly timed given the current state of American politics and the events happening in 2024. But I am, if nothing else, intrigued.
IF At first glance this feels like a forgettable kids film, even a bit of a bizarre one. But I have complete faith in Krasinksi, and the fact that this seems like a passion project for him, an intentional project fueled by his own experiences as a father, makes me feel like this is going to be an unexpected success.
Argylle They’ve been advertising this film like crazy, so that might be part of why this film feels already entrenched in my imagination. But the long, dry days of January/February at the box office do tend to unearth the odd gem here or there, and this looks to fit the bill. A fun action-comedy spy thriller with the right amount of cinematic appeal.
The Bike Riders Austin Butler and Jodie Comer lead the way in this holdover from 2023’s festival season. This story about a local bike gang turned nations gang won’t be getting a wide release until later this year, but it will come on the heels of good buzz and great reviews.
M Night’s Trap New M. Night. On my birthday. It is tentatively titled Trap. I have no idea what its about. But for me, M. Night always all but guarantees opening day.
LOTR: The War of the Rohirrim New Lord of the Rings, this time delving into animation. Its digging deep into the lore surrounding Helm’s Deep, and it promises to be epic. If this isn’t contending for awards come next season, I will be surprised.
Mother Mary We know very little about the next project from David Lowery aside from the film being set in Germany with a star studded cast (Hunter Schafer, Anne Hathaway, Michaela Coel). I have no idea if his decision to make Peter Pan and Wendy in 2023 will have dropped his name down in terms of the level of anticipation, but if it does that would be a shame. Because not only was Peter Pan and Wendy an excellent adaptation and a very good film, Lowery remains one of the best artistic minds of our present day.
Love Lies Bleeding It still boggles the mind that people still remain resistant to seeing Kristin Stewart as a legitimate actor and genuine talent. However, she keeps doing her thing, choosing interesting projects and delivering against expectations. Some days the masses will wake up and see the truth. For now, I’m just happy to see her doing her thing.
Miller’s Girl It’s a January release. It seems entertaining. It’s not breaking down any doors in terms of anticipation, but it seems like the perfect unassuming pick for the winter days.
Polaris Joaquin Phoenix and Rooney Mara. Need I say more? Probably not.
We Live In Time Brooklyn is one of my all time favorite films, so I’m a big fan of John Crowley. The little we know about We Live In Time seems to have him firmly back in his wheelhouse, bringing in Florence Pugh and Andrew Garfield to, undoubtedly, weave a complex tale of love, identity and connection.
Death of a Unicorn Here is the synopsis- Father-Daughter duo, Riley and Elliot, hit a unicorn with their car and bring it to the wilderness retreat of a mega-wealthy pharmaceutical CEO.The Front Row.
Now tell me you’re not intrigued.
2023 Holdovers: Kore-eda Hirokazu’s Monster will be seeing its wide release in the first week of January, and I can’t wait. Few filmmakers can do and accomplish what he does. Zone of Interest won’t be far behind, representing one of the most talked about films in 2023. All of Us Strangers will also be getting a January release. So no shortage of top tier titles to explore.
I have fond memories growing up of being that kid in school who would typically end up having most of the box from those infamouse scholastic book fair orders being plopped straight on their desk. Some might have called it a problem. I called it my obsession. There was little I looked forward to more than unearthing unknown titles and being surprised by the latest slate of purchases. Sometimes they were classics of the time. Sometimes they were the latest titles to hit the shelves. To me they were all unfamiliar and new. And over the years many of them would go on to take up space as a permanent title on my shelves, representing my all time favorites.
For as much as life looks much different these days, living on the other side of 40, its surprising how much things do stay the same. These days its bookstores and online orders that remain my obsession. Just knowing that these books are there, making it possible for the right book to end up in my hands at the right time, brings me comfort and joy. These stories remain a mix of classics and recent releases, and for me represent a collection made out of recommendations, blind buys and known titles. All equally new to me.
Perusing my reading list in 2023, the ones that found the right place and right time this year, there were many misses, to be sure. But even if the hits aren’t as numerous, part of that process is finding and experiencing these new gems that can take a permanent spot on my shelf as the reads which have shaped and formed me over the years. It has been an exciting year to that end.
As is the case for me, rather than do a typical ranked list, I like to look at my reads in a more formative way, seeing how I can track some of the important moments and experiences, learnings and themes over the course of the year as I track through the different stories that stood out for me. These, then, are the books that stood out for me and the larger story that I see them occupying in my life:
My 2023 In Books: Fiction
There seems to me to be a bit of an unintentional trend that has emerged over the last number of years- beginning the year with one of the entries in Toshikazu Kawaguchi’s Before the Coffee Gets Cold series. As I’m sitting here on January first looking at starting the next in the series, Before Your Memory Fades, I’m reflecting on how this time last year had me digging into Tales From the Café.
Time travel and coffee is of course a match made in heaven, and beginning the year here feels like it has a certain poetic resonance with where I ended the year with Jack Finney’s Time and Again, a book that marries time travel, New York, and Christmas.
Both books deal with our relationship to the past. Both are stories about our need to understand the past in order to make sense of the present, and in both cases, in their own way, it follows characters who cannot change the past, but merely face it. Observe it. Reconcile it to where they are in the present. Kawaguchi’s story is the simpler of the two, contained to the stories of these persons whom come to this café, each for their own reasons and with their own needs. Time and Again is more expansive, looking at larger historical and social realites. Both books though leave the reader with the most important question- how do you move forward from where you are given how you are formed by the past.
Another possible trend.: I’m sitting here on January 1st looking at the sequel to Travis Baldree’s satisfying and endearing fantasy book Legends an L:attes, a book I read in tandem with Tales From the Café.
Aside from the obvious shared interest in coffee, Legends and Lattes follows a character whom desires to start afresh, to break from the burdens and shackles of her past and forge a new identity based on the person she feels she has become and the person she wants to be. Here the question of how much of our identity is attached to the past, and what this means for who we desire to be and become, becomes a crucial part of the journey she goes on in finding a new town an opening up a new café. In many ways, not unlike the story in Tales From the Café, we are as much a product of the past as we are our present. And part of forging a path ahead means accepting and understanding the whole of our story.
Past and present come colliding together in the wonderful and endearing intergenerational story of The Door to Door Bookstore.
Here we follow the growing bond between a young girl and an elderly man in a quintessential English town. Two different perspectives, one full of optimism looking forward, one looking backwards burdened by cynicism. Both find connection and healing through the power of story.
The power of story carries through another book I read this year, a classic that I was finally able to check off my list- William Goldman’s The Princess Bride, a pure delight that adds an entirely new dimension to the film.
Here this story, full of that old world charm filled with adventure, swords, love, dangers, and companions,, is bound to the idea of the simple “telling” of this story as a fairy tale, an idea that becomes a part of the book’s larger construct. The father recognizes what it is for a fairy tale to be able to capture the imagination, but the grown son recognzes what it is to see the story in the true light of reality, now trying to live in this world with two competing realities. Thus we get the story of his imagination merging with the questions and thoughts of his grown up mind, functioning as a conversation. It’s a memorable exercise that captures the spirit of storytelling as a powerful device.
Another book that celebrates the power of story is Scary Stories For Young Foxes by Christian Heidicker, a sweet and emotionally affecting read that finds the storyteller as that frightening figure that threatens everything these young foxes know to be true about the world.
The journey, at once away and towards the storyteller, is an invitation to hear a greater story that is able to help these young foxes make sense of the dueling sides of the natural world that surrounds them. Dangers that threaten and lurk in the shadows on one hand, and the protective nature of their familial bonds on the other. Life on one hand, death and decay on the other. Love on one hand, hate on the other. As the book ultimately posits, breaking through these opposing forces is the invitation to simply live. A sentiment that feels pertinent in another classic I managed to check off the list, The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle, a classic fantasy story fillled with wonderful creatures and big questions, but one that imagines hope emerging from the darkest places of this. Where transformation happens in the face of sadness and pain and fear.
Over the course of October I read Jo Nesbo’s The Night House, a story that uses a house in some clever and interesting ways to explore the nature of our fears, while Grady Hendrix’s How To Sell a Haunted House uses it a means to confront the nature and process of grief. Both stories about how we contend with the nature of reality.
I finally finished Ransom Rigg’s series Miss Peregrine’s Peculiar Children series, The Desolations of Devil’s Acre being the last entry. And in a different way this book confronts a world that is not right, at a moment when the stakes are the highest. Its own answer to the question of the fears that face these children, fears that exist beyond the particularities of their own experiences, relating as they do to the state of the world at large, connects back to togetherness. Who they are together says something about who they are as individuals, and this is something that I think carries through How to Sell a Haunted House as well.
The Magicians Daughter by H.G. Parry, a book I paired with Brandon Sanderson’s Tress of The Emerald Sea for reasons relating to their shared premise (a young woman faced with a crisis and forced to go on a journey into unknown and dangerous territory with the crisis hanging in the balance).
Tress being a take on The Princess Bride, fittingly enough for my 2023 year, was good not great, but The Magicians Daughter ended up being one of my years top 2 most favorite reads, occupying a space on my shelf soon after I finished. It also represents a fitting bookend to the journey that I found over the course of 2023. It is an invitation to believe again that magic exists and that it has the power to transform the darkness of our world into light.
My number one favorite book of the year was The Lost Year by Katherine Marsh.
It’s a book that traverses the passage of time, connecting a young boy living in 2020 with the tragedy of Holodomor in the 1930’s. It is part mystery and part history, but ultimately it is a story of discovery, uncovering the mystery of that unknown history in a way that reshapes the young boy’s perspective not just of the world, but of his place in it. It’s a book about how we become captive to narratives, and how the narrative we bind ourselves to matters a lot to who we are and how we live in this world. It is a story about how we reconcile faith with the tragedy, and about the relationship between hope and cynicism, something that takes me back to The Door to Door salesman as well. There is a powerful thematic throughline that speaks not to just the stories we hear and the stories we hold to, but to how we tell our stories and how we tell the stories of others. Stories have power. We also have the power to shape these stories, be it our own or the stories of others. This is, as my journey in 2023 suggests, how we then learn to live in and exist in this world with hope, especially amidst the crisis.
A few years ago I began a New Years Resolution Plan called Rosebud. I heard about it on one of the travel podcasts that I follow. The process essentially looks like this: Step 1: List Three Roses- This is the stuff that I would consider the greatest strengths, successes or accomplishments of the past year, the stuff that has managed to blossom into a Rose. Step 2: List One Thorn This would reflect my greatest personal struggle of the past year. Step 3: List Three Buds Based on my “thorn”, this is a list of what I would like to “bud” into potential Roses in the coming year. Step 4: Come up with a word for the year This should be a single word that can help reflect the direction I want to head in the coming year, a single word that can give my year a theme or a recognizable focus and narrative.
So, why Rosebud? I have been asked in the past, why three Roses but only one Thorn? Most of us don’t realize it, but it is often much more diffciult to come up with roses than it is thorns. Also difficult is learning how to speak about thorns in a way that imagines forward movement, seeing it in light of one’s potential for growth. It’s kind of like that old piece of advice that says when you are in an interview for a new job and they ask you about your weaknesses, always give a weakness that you can do something about.
The great part of the Rosebud system is that it allows one to document their struggles and their growth year by year as a kind of working and interactive diary. You can build on the previous year and form an ongoing narrative out of the successes, struggles and hopes. This is not about resolutions persay, at least not in the traditional sense, it is about making space for introspection and observation and forming that into perspective and potential. And it allows one to not just make goals, but to examine what those goals are actual about, the why of our goals. With that in mind…
A Look Back at Rosebud 2023:
My Three Roses:
1. Commit time to our dog Buddy and help him with some of his struggles
2. Continue to have the necessary hard conversations
3. Seek a greater imagination for how I can and need to reprioritize my life towars the things that matter
My One Thorn: Failed Potential
My Three Buds:
1. Jump start my writing project again
2. Establish further physical and online community
3. Travel to England
My Word For The Year: Imagination
A Reflection on Rosebud 2023:
A Look Ahead to Rosebud 2024
My Three Roses:
1. Made some memories
If reprioritizing my life was a thing in 2023, it involved getting out there and doing things again. Memories from this time last year includeed a spontaneous trip to Minneapolis to see my favorite movie brought to life on the stage (The Little Prince), along with having one of the best new years eve outings in a long while. I also managed to get out to our local theater to see a few stage productions over the course of the year, and celebrated the 25th anniversary of the movie Elf in style with the Winnipeg Symphany Orchestra, while also celebrating the anniversary of Switchfoot’s The Beautiful Letdown by travelling to see them in Birmingham, Alabama. While the final quarter of the year managed to fizzle out in terms of ambition, there certainly was some movement there in terms of breaking out of a funk and finding a spark of life.
2. Took some risks
Took some risks in giving more. I also took a big risk this past summer in doing a solo trip down south through Alabama and across to Savannah and Charleston, before coming back up through the smokey mountains. It was the first time I had ever travelled by myself, and I made it into a pilgrimage, including celebrating the anniversary of Switchfoot’s The Beautiful Letdown and traversing the footsteps of Martin Luther King while reading his new biography. Perhaps this makes up for my failure to get to England, something that I feel is a must at some point in my life. There still needs to be more risks taken in terms of building community.
3. Made some progress on my writing
It wasn’t a lot of progress, but it was some. A lifelong process I’m sure, but one I’m still pressing. Part of a desire, and maybe even a need to put my memories into story.
My One Thorn: Failure to navigate
There is a bit of irony, or perhaps some poetic resonance, to how 2023 started and how it ended. It started off in the light of having faced some hard conversations in the hope of healing and reconciliation. The year has ended with a need to have some hard conversation and make some hard, life defining decisions. It also involves taking some risks, something that I did over the course of 2023. Where one finds successs, one also finds their shortcomings, I suppose.
My Three Buds:
1. Figure out my hard conversations and make some hard choices
This is the number one thing I need to figure out heading into 2023, and therre is a lot to figure out relating to potential transitions and new opportunities.
2. Celebrate our 20th anniversary
Yes, we are headed into our 20th year. And this is something that can be a bit specific, at least in my imagination. Good friends are celebrating their 25th in Toronto, and we have plans to join them in their celebration. Given the important of New York City to the story of our marriage, we also have plans to continue the journey, this time hopefully crossing off the maritime states as well.
3. Invest in my local community
This one is simple. I’ve got a desire to figure out the needs of my local community. My plan is to connect with my MP and get some insight into the major needs, concerns, opportunities. Make a list, see what fits, andNew go from there.
If I had to sum up 2023 in words other than “Barb-enheimer” or “writers strike”, how might I describe it? There seemed to be much about the uncertainty of our present moment. There also seemed to be much about the relationship of our present moment to the past.
I’m thinking about films like Asteroid City, Killers of the Flower Moon, and Oppenheimer, which confront the nature of fear in relationship to the human capacity for both progress and destruction. I’m thinking about the way Beau is Afraid took these fears and attached them to the heroes journey, simply one that is flipped on its head and rooted in the growing anxieties of a world gone mad. How this intersects with our own madness is a question that gets equal attention in films like The Eight Mountains and Artifice Girl.
There are moments of optimism though that break through the noise, be it the magic and wonder of Scarlet, the redemptive notes of Flora and Sons, or the strength of relationship and community in The Holdovers, Guardians of the Galaxy 3, and Broker. There’s room to ask the important questions as well, such as the poignant wrestling in Are You There God, It’s Me Margaret, the philosophical challenges of Past Lives, the challenge to sit in the unknowns in Anatomy of a Fall, or the moral crisis of A Good person. And finally there is the power of art to speak to the darkness of our lives, such as the powerful treatment of the artist in Showing Up, or the love letter to film in The Last Film Show.
Every year reflects a journey and captures a unique cultural moment. If 2023 as a say, its that even as the questions linger and the shadows of our histories loom large, there is still reason to hope. And if ever there were a case to be made for the power and importance of film, this would be it.
Elsewhere in this space I have discussed my favorite outliers, my favorite Canadian films, my favorite debuts, and my favorites in the categories of animated, horror and documentary. I now come to my Top 20 favorite films of the year, not including titles in those categories:
My Top 20 Favorite Films of 2023 (In Descending Order)
20. A Good Person A film about the complex moral crisis that shape much of the way we see this world in terms of good and evil. So much of this is about learning how to be patient with life’s necessary processes, especially when the pain seems too great to bear and the weight too impossible to persist against. Life is rarely, if ever, as neat and tidy as we imagine it should be, and yet within this truth we find certain graces that have the power to push and pull us forward while growing uhe way. The films title has a double purpose. On one hand it wonders about why God (or life itself) allows horrible things to happen to good people. At the same time it wonders about how it is that we are able to reconcile the parts of our lives and the lives of others we would rather forget and ignore or choose not to forgive. Perhaps it is the first observation that has the power to speak to the latter. Doing the necessary work when it comes to the latter, especially when it feels impossible, can open us up to the former, giving us a sense that engaging the messiness of life can actually lead us somewhere real and true. A powerful sentiment to be sure.
19. Ferrari Ferrari is a film about the things we can’t control. It’s a film about death and grief and the cruelty of nature. It’s a film about racing, which of course caters to Michael Mann’s sensibilities. It’s a film that uses all of these things to examine the subtleties of a man and his family silently being torn apart from the inside out. And when life itself is out of your control, what else can you do but decide to build beautiful cars instead. Part of the brilliance of Micheal Mann’s direction here is that he allows this to become the driving allegory underneath the surface, both for the exusting tension and the gradual unravelling. This happens often out of sight, but always making its presence felt and known nonetheless.
18. Artifice Girl A stunning and sure handed debut that marries the intelligence of its questions with a simple but effective story structure. Best to go in as blind as possible, as I think the way plot unfolds is part of the beauty of the intellectual process at play here. It is an intricate dance between big ideas and broader realities regarding this world and the essential problem of the human condition, and the intimacy of the characters experiences of an uncertain, often feared and always changing world when it comes to technology and AI. The premise itself is intriguing, but it’s the developing relationships between the small cast of character that proves most compelling.
If one of its most pertinent questions is, what does it mean to feel, the Director uses this thematic interest as a way to explore what it means to be human, blurring the lines in all directions and unsettling our point of reference. The film leaves plenty of ambiguity in terms of its humanistic convictions and it’s decentering of such assumptions of uniqueness and exceptionalism, but does so without letting go of the larger questions that bind the human will to either a creator or a process.
17. Last Film Show An unexpected joy and delight from the previous year stacked with such autobiographical films about filmmakers in their younger years discovering and falling in love with film. It’s a motif that will never get old for me, and the cultural setting here, unfamiliar as it is to me, gives it a fresh perspective and some interesting historical touchpoints. Loved how it moves through a hands on approach to the way film once was made and produced and discovered. Reminds me of the Fablemans where it subtly explores the craft through the ingenuinity of a young mind simply exploring ideas and possibilities by way of observation. And the quiet family moments, often framed around cooking and the meal. Beautiful.
16. Broker Thematic throughlines and touchpoints defined by necessary moral complexity, along with storied scores and rich casts of characters defined in some way shape or form by the idea of family, found family on the margins being a favorite, seem to be the true mark of Koreeda’s cinematic presence, and true to form Broker delves deep into these different aspects by utilizing a fresh concept to explore familiar themes. It’s not his strongest work, but it is every bit his honest voice, designed to confront us with the important questions concerning what it means to be human and to know that we are loved and accepted as such across the dividing lines of our societal constructs.
15. Scarlet I was swept off my feet by the wonderful Martin Eden, an Italian set film that marries a sense of magic and wonder to an underlying realism. Here he delves even further into a fairy tale approached, soaked as it is in the historical backdrop of the great war. It’s a narrative movement that brings us from darkness to light, material to magic, cynicism to wonder. In Scarlet, the wonder is in the romanticism, daring to give reasoned and rational weight to the seeming irrational.
14. The Eight Mountains
The Eight Mountains wants us to consider how the center remains even as one traverses the circle that makes up the broader world and experiences around it. Can we return to where we were once we’ve left to explore the circle? Certainly the temptation is there to want to do just that. And there is a sense in which the journey to the circle is meant to bring us back to where we started, only as different and transformed persons. To return to where we started is not only to return as someone new, but to return to a place that must look and feel different as well. Further yet, it is to look forward with a different frame of reference, just as we do within the story of the person and work of Jesus. But we do so with that foundation firmly in place. The thing that reminds us that there is a dream and that the promise is being carried through the belief and action of another, a belief and action that claims the power to shape who we are and what this world is.
I remember when Broken Circle Breakdown released I was championing it everywhere I went to as many people as possible. I found the films writing and it’s thematic focus, along with the central performances, to be a profound revelation, especially considering it was the Directors debut. The most striking feature of The Eight Mountains is the way it reframed a similar dedication to the performances and the thematic weight within a much broader cinematic presence and scope. The story is here is sweeping, tracking its main character, a young boy named Pietro from Turin, not only through time, but through the grand backdrop of the mountains employing a contrast of weighty, existential questions and intimate concern.
13. Asteroid City Reminiscent of Anderson’s earlier work, Asteroid City plays with his familiar style of humor and eclectic framing while sticking to embedded themes rather than reaching for anything overly subversive. What makes his latest effort that much more intriguing however is that, on paper at least, it feels very much like a spiritual sequel to French Dispatch. If French Dispatch reflected on the nature and importance of art and the ensuing relationship between art and artist as a shared relationship, Asteroid City pushes that question further by wondering how it is that the world that produces such art holds meaning, if it does at all.
Two deeply existential stories, one calling back to the earlier days of Anderson’s career, the other the culmination of his present evolution. Taken together it forms an exciting endeavor from one of the world’s most visionary Directors.
12. Flora and Sons To say this is a charmer would be an understatement. It’s also one of Carny’s most mature films to date, which of course looks backwards to his break out hit Once. He’s a long ways from the very modest budget of that two person indie romance, with Flora and Son exhibiting a bigger story, more expansive camera work and a more polished edit. But the intimacy of its characters and their journey remains fully intact, this time delving into the subject of motherhood and womanhood with the grace of some broad and colorful brushstrokes.
11. Beau is Afriad The film is structured around the hero’s journey, simply flipped upside down, which positions it as an epic. It’s also, aesthetically and tonally, very much in the vein of a dark fairy tale. This isn’t outright horror, so be prepared for that. But it could be said to be the stuff of nightmares. This is the kind of film that asks a lot of viewers, but if you are willing to give yourself over to it, this proves to have a lot on its mind, exploring pertinent questions about how we see ourselves and how we see the world.
10. Jules I challenge you to find a more charming, big hearted film than Jules from the current slate of 2023 films. This lovely gem is as effective as it is because of its dedication to the delicate art of simplicity.
9. Linoleum
Destined to be swallowed up by higher profile fare before the year is done, this small, indie, arthouse drama exists as a reminder of what makes the movies so special. It’s quirky presence is bolstered by a unique story, serving the unassuming nature of the Directors vision. Free to carve its own path, it finds a way towards an extremely satisfying emotional premise.
This isn’t the kind of arthouse fare that remains disinterested in accessibility. This is as human as it comes, exploring the nature of failed dreams and their existential challenge. It cuts to the heart of the question of who we are, wondering about how we reconcile this with who we become. A brilliant use of story structure as a plot device slowly sneaks up on the story arc, setting the whole thing up for a true and real gut punch. That it can marry it’s observations of science and reason with something so grounded and mysterious is a testament to the smarts and the thoughtfulness of its script. The awe of space and it’s expanse represents the journey inward, with the imagery of the rocket moving us in both directions at once.
8. The Holdovers Plays like a warm blanket with a hot drink. Cosy, pared back, simple, heartfelt. It’s also smart, or Aasmartly written character study that gives its two central characters, a cynical aging professor and a castoff delinquent student, plenty of room to develop.
7. Killers of the Flower Moon If The Irishman turned the camera inward in an examination of Scorsese’s career, Killers turns the lense outwards again, this time towards the Osage people and the harrowing murder mystery that frames its source material. There is a kind of collaborative spirit evidenced in this project that strives to shed light on one of the most pertinent issues of our day- the attrocoities experienced by the indigenous peoples by way of colonization. It reminded me a bit of Silence in its approach, marrying a quiet, reflective undercurrent to the intensity of its unfolding drama. In truth, I didn’t feel or notice the 3 and a half run time at all, it’s that absorbing.
There is so much care given to the craft and attention given to the cultural representation, and it’s the sort of emotional punch that is less interested in evoking easy sentiment and tears and instead approaches that in a more cerebral fashion. If the film is a reminder of how privileged we all are to have this guy still making films, it’s concern and impact is far more powerful in its ability to bring the darkness of its characters experiences to light without losing the beauty and humanity of its subjects in the process.
6. Guardians of the Galaxy 3 A franchise about unlikely friendship grows into a story about found family, taking the time to really explore the weight of their individual stories and struggles and how they fit together. This is a genuine feeler that stands as a reminder of why the MCU has had such a lasting presence in the cinematic landscape.
5. Showing Up The tagline for this film is “art imitates life”. Perhaps at least part of what this film is wrestling with is the flipside of this notion, “does life imitate art”. Certainly we can see this expressed in our main characters struggle to escape the confines of her own particular prisons.
Reichardt draws out this story of a young woman, a sculptor preparing for a potentially life changing new show, with an attentive eye to that often invisible space between who we see ourselves to be and who we fear others see us to be. We see her art slowly take on the form of her experiences, even as her life begins to look for inspiration in the art, forming a fascinating juxtaposition of ideas. The commentary isn’t reaching into the same places of social concern as First Cow, making this a different sort of film. It clears the intellectual landscape in favor of quiet observation. And it’s from this vantage point that we gain insight on the beauty of the films questions and its subjects.
4.. Past Lives Celine Song’s Directorial debut exhibits a quiet presence and a confident spirit in its studied look at the “stories” of our lives. Song’s sure handed approach to drawing out these characters is mesmerizing to watch, and given her own background (Korean-Canadian decent who moves to New York to pursue a career in writing), her own story lends it an inspired touch. The camera feels that closely tied to the ebb and flow of the journey.
A beautiful and big hearted film from start to finish. It’s a reminder that The stories we are given, the stories we tell. This is how we make sense of our lives in the now. The now opens up our lives to all that brings us to where we are. I can’t wait to see what Song does next.
3. Opppenheimer Every so often a film comes around that feels impossible to describe in its details but also feels subsequently monumental in its presence. Oppenheimer occupies this space, with the only true certainty I could glean from it being that I was in the presence of something profound and excpetional. Certainly as a technical achievement. But also in the way it asks big questions about humanities potential for both progress and destruction. How we think about humanities future relates a good deal to how we think about our past, and if nothing else such histories can help challenge our notions that the enlightenment has proved to be the answer to our problems.
2. Anatomy of a Fall A film about wrestling with the unknowns of life. A film about being okay with the unknowns of life. A film about making choices and carving out convictions in the midst of the unknowns of life.
1. Are You There God, Its Me Margaret One of the best coming of age stories to release in a while. Honest and authentic to its core. Perfectly captures what it is to go through puberty with all its uncertainty and struggles, and does so with grace and sensitivity without sacrificing the raw reality of the process. Even where the particularities of this story about a young girl becoming a woman sits outside of my own realm of experience, I think the story itself can translate universally.
Religion becomes the divisive backdrop that echos Blooms own experience growing up. Religion becomes for Margaret a source of hurt and pain, not hope. And yet, whereas the doc would suggest that Bloom found an answer to her struggles by replacing God with a renewed commitment to the “I”, as though stripping God from the equation could solve her personal crisis and get rid of the division, the film never loses sight of the fact that the crisis is born not of religion but of the human experience. To sacrifice God on the alter of our experiences might be the most honest reaction we can find, but I think this film shows that it doesn’t take long for an allegiance to the self to find itself mired in a need to be anchored in something bigger than the “I”. If there is a message that flows from Margarets own wrestling it is that the graces we need to navigate this thing we call existence often arrive against expectations. Which might just be the most hopeful portrait of God we can find.
I feel like it is fair to say it hasn’t been a stellar year for animation. Part of that has been the story of Disney’s woes at the box office, taking the shine off of what are typically a handful of high profile release. Netflix has been increasing its investment in animation over the last number of years, and typically has, at the very least, a couple amicable cult favorites to mine from the mix, not to mention snagging Del Toro’s Pinocchio last year. This year, the best of the bunch is probably Nimona, which is perfectly fine but far from great, along with the much anticipated follow up to Chicken Run, which sort of fizzled out after somewhat tepid reactions. It doesn’t help either that both Suzume and The Boy and the Heron released to somewhat mixed reception too, Suzume still not getting a digital release despite a very brief and short lived theater run, The Boy and the Heron proving to the be the stronger of the two. These were the films that were supposed to dominate the discussion over the course of 2023, and while The Boy and the Heron can definitely lay claim to occupying a significant part of 2023’s cultural conversation, and remains a significant achievement from one of the greatest living directors, this is still a far cry from where we were with the animated category in the last number of years.
Dig a little though, and there are some gems worth highlighting, giving the obvious nods as well to the big hitters in Across The Spiderverse, and the crowd favorite Super Mario Bros. Shout out as wellto The Peasants, one of my most anticipated animated films of the year which I have not yet been able to see due to it not getting a wide release.
1. SPIDER-MAN: ACROSS THE SPIDERVERSE It would be hard to argue this is not the best animated film of the year given its overall success on a number of levels. Critics loved it. Audiences loved it. And this meant success at the box office, elevating the film to the level of capturing a true cultural moment. Full disclosure- I wasn’t as high on the first one as many others were, so I went into this sequel with some reservations. What I loved about Across the Spiderverse is that it addressed my number one problem with the first film- it incorporated a rich thematic core. It also uses the fan service elements to flesh out a compelling philosophical commentary, and spends time developing its unusually large cast of characters in a way that makes them all feel necessary to the story. All of this comes together to elevate this film above its predecessor, going from good to great
2. ELEMENTAL We can call this the little film that could, if little could apply to this years high profile Pixar release. If headlines had their way, they would have convinced the masses that this one was dead in the water before it even got started. Rather than the story, it was the films box office woes that dominated the conversation. And yet it kept sticking around, week after week, slowly and steadily bringing in an audience over the course of a lengthy extended run. For my money, and I invested in this one myself, this is because of the simple power of its story. It is from the Director of The Good Dinosaur, a film that often, undeservedly so in my opinion, ends up on the bottom of peoples all time Pixar lists. Here he reaches for something even more expansive. And an older demographic as well. What it ultimately becomes is a wonderful mix of thematic sensibilities, exploring its coming of age context, its underlying love story, discussions about immigration, family and tradition, generational gaps. I was really taken with this from the start, and I was very glad to see it find success.
3. ERNEST AND CELESTINE: A TRIP TO GIBBERITIA A life without music is unthinkable. So it is with Ernest and Celestine. They make the world a better place. As they fight to bring music and happiness back to Ernest’s home, fighting as one will do, of course, a fascist government regime (take that Pinocchio), they are also fighting for our hearts. Which, frankly put, is not really a battle at all. Whatever darkness lingers in the backdrop of this film’s subtext, what’s far more clear is the abundant optimism that carries it forward and wins the day. It might be tempting to call this comfort food, but that’s not really what this is. It’s as comforting as homemade soup on a winters day. Its also the real deal, like uncovering grandma’s favorite recipe.
4. THE FIRST SLAM DUNK It’s a phenomenal and quintessential sports movie. As an animated film its also so much more. The pacing is exceptional, building the tension right up to its thrilling climax, and the human drama gets fully fleshed out, offering us endearing characters with real stakes. A definite power player in this years animated slate.
5. THE BOY AND THE HERON Even lower tier Miyazaki is on a different terrain than most animated fair. This one did end up falling short for me, being too layered for its own good, especially when he is taking so many risks with his storytelling. There is little doubt that the film is coming from a deeply personal place, and the question of legacy looms large here. It also features one of the years best scores, and of course boasts a very creative animation style. Whatever confusion it might evoke in terms of the story beats, which in reading up on the film sounds like it was intentional, is overshadowed by the technical strength. I just really needed a more concrete way into the story for this to fully work, but It is, nevertheless, still Miyazaki, and on that front alone remains a must see and a definite choice for these end of the year lists. One of the greatest living directors without a doubt.
6. RUBY GILLMAN, TEENAGE KRAKEN Probably the single animated film to catch me most off guard this year. It really endeared me to its characters and its story, and despite falling off slightly in the third act, features an exceptionally edited and constructed first three quarters. It has a lot going for it, including memorable characters and an old fashioned adventure story revolving around a coming of age scenario and the challenges/lessons of family and peers that flows from this. Perhaps its biggest strength is simply its heart. Authenticity goes a long ways.
7. WISH A mixed bag, but a film that is much stronger than first appearances might imply. In truth, it is important to support original films such as this, even if the film is imperfect. Wish reflects the look and feel of the Disney classics while forging its own take on a modern fairy tale. It’s a love letter in its own way to what Disney once imagined itself to be, and does its best to carry those values forward, celebrating the strength of an honest story and the imagination. I really liked it, and I personally hope they take more risks on films like this in the future.
8 LAMYA’S POEM If poetry were a film. Lamya’ Poem would b it, awash as it is in lyrical depth, including an exceptional score, some gorgeous colors, and a compelling story about refugees.
9. THE SUPER MARIO BROS. MOVIE Yes, it’s the popular pick. But hey, it is fun in all the best ways, so what can I say. Loved all the inside takes and easter eggs. Loved that I saw it with someone was able to point that stuff out to me too.
10. TEENAGE MUTANT NINJA TURTLES If you thought this film might crash and burn in a spectacular fashion, for as feverish as the advertising was leading up to its release, you aren’t alone. What a lovely surprise. I don’t know what the bigger surprise is actually; the fact that the turtles are actually cast as teenagers, or the fact that its as fun as it ends up being. Either way, its worth bringing them back to the big screen in this way, even if the grungy animation style might prove to have a short shelf life. It remains a novelty for the moment though.
The Stories of my Life 