Friday, January 25, 2008

She Wrote the Doorbell

It's been a quiet week around here, partially because I was working on the same little pile of books all week and embarrassed to keep talking about them, partially because I was having the nervous fits before, during, and after grad school orientation on Wednesday, and partially because I am a lazy schlub.

I finished 1 Dead in Attic and Charmed Thirds, both of which were excellent in very different ways. And today I went to the library and picked up (deep breath) FIVE new books. I'm proud, though, because I had at least three more pulled off the shelf, but returned them because that would be excessive.

Among my new acquisitions is Louder than Words: A Mother's Journey in Healing Autism. I enjoy autism memoirs, partially because they bring me back to my experiences working with those kids, partially because it's reassuring to see these writers finding the strength to do something that I don't know if I would have the strength for. Having an autistic kid is one of my biggest fears, because it's such an ill-defined disease with such a cobbled-together, only-partly-proven course of treatment.

This is mostly beside the point, because while this is an interesting account of autism (so few of them begin with a hospital trip or medical crisis), the really engrossing part is that the author is Jenny McCarthy. You remember Jenny, I'm sure, because who didn't waste at least one high school afternoon watching Singled Out on MTV? She was the belching, bodacious bleached-blonde babe who waggled her tongue at the camera in the dirty Vanna White role on the show. Yes, that Jenny McCarthy. And honey, I'll tell you, this book ain't ghost written.

She's written two others, Belly Laughs, a memoir of pregnancy, and Baby Laughs, about caring for her infant son. Those are humor books, and while this one isn't without laughs, it's a more serious story she's telling. Let me tell you, this woman writes like she talks, and she talks like a crazy person. She uses a lot of exclamation points, and talks to God, prays, and follows her immediate gut instincts all over the place (Jenny McCarthy is VERY religious, raised Catholic but now just good pals with God. Go figure.). She asks me to "guess what?" several times in the course of ten pages near the beginning.

But my favorite part is when she calls the Morman Tabernacle in Salt Lake City and asks them to send someone to do a healing prayer over her son. The anecdote is pretty funny, including a joke about the word balls that I'm sure went over GREAT with the two 19-year-old missionaries the church sent her, but the best part is the beginning, when the two young men arrive at her door. "DING DONG." Yes, like a good old fashioned episode of Batman, the sound effects are written into the text.

I tease, but that's not fair. The truth is, it reads very much like an excellent raconteur (raconteuse?) telling an interesting story, and the only reason that doesn't work perfectly is because when you actually transcribe the way most people talk, it sounds, well, somewhat off. I have to say, though, that even when she's not finding out that her son has a devastating diagnosis, she sounds like someone who's so full of energy that she'd be tiring to be around. And her husband's a dink.

That's all the news from here. I might update later this weekend with more info about Wednesday's info session at school, but I'm still digesting it and trying to pretend that classes don't start soon (Monday! I have a class on Monday! I'm DYING!), so I need to process things before I can really dig in. Suffice it to say, I'm not too intimidated by the classes, but I'm a little beaten down by the amount of career planning they expect from you before day 1.

Happy weekend, one and all.

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