The Christmas without consensus

Here's the headline of my 2011 winter vacation: I saw one movie.

I know. Alert boston.com; they might need to fire up their Breaking News font. I don't have any real idea what happened, though there are some possible theories:
1. My mom decided we didn't see as many movies as we usually do because Christmas fell on a Sunday. Alrighty.
2. There weren't that many good choices in the theater. Usually, I go to Florida armed with a list of at least three or four films I can't wait to see. This year, not so much. I saw the Descendants at the Coolidge Corner Theater before I left for Boca, so that was already checked off the list. (It's great, btw.) It didn't help that all of the potential movies seemed to be clocking in at more than two and a half hours. Did I mention it was 79 degrees and sunny every single day in Florida? Not exactly the weather that inspires sitting in a dark theater.
3. Lack of agreement. You try getting more than two relatives to agree on which movie to see. It doesn't help that a certain percentage of those relatives are currently transitioning into their grumpy, old person phase. Not that I am naming names, or laying blame. Though I think Fox News is somehow part of the problem.
4. As a result, I found myself retreating to the solitude and joy of reading. You don't need to reach a family consensus to pick up a book. I finished The Widower's Tale by Julia Glass. If you haven't read anything by Glass, get on it. I have enjoyed all her books, and this latest effort did not disappoint.  Next I tackled The Art of Fielding by Chad Harbach. I loved this book so much, I wanted to finish it immediately/never finish it. It was funny and moving, with rich characters and amazing story telling. Did I mention it's his first novel? Holy talent. Seriously, everyone needs to read this book.

When it became clear that we weren't seeing any movies, I decided to read a book that has been made into a movie: Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer. I have never read anything by Foer, in small part because I had a feeling I would love his stuff, find him charming and brilliant, and than be annoyed/jealous that he married a girl I went to camp with. I was right on all counts. He wrote a really moving story, and he did something well that I really, really love: he captured the voice of a child with just the right humor and tone. I can't even stand it, thinking about his charming, brilliant life with his charming, brilliant wife who went to my camp. I am curious about the movie, which stars Tom Hanks and Sandra Bullock as the parents of the main character. That's a lot of Oscar winners for two characters who aren't really in the book. Still, I want to see it. Particularly when/if I am in need of a good cry.

I left Florida 155 pages into The Invisible Bridge by Julie Orringer.  When I was about 80 pages in, I told my mom that it reminded me a little of Kavilier and Clay. I thought she'd be impressed with my astute observation. She paused and said, "Well Julie Orringer is friends with Michael Chabon." The moral of this story? Don't try to discuss a 700-page book with your mom the Book Club Facilitator when you're only 80 pages into it.

Oh and the one movie that I managed to see? The Artist. We saw it because it was showing at the right time and was only 100 minutes long. Seriously. It just so happened that it was terrific. It's pretty remarkable that a black and white, silent movie felt completely fresh and innovative. And thoroughly entertaining and delightful. I wish I could think of a more hip word than delightful, but honestly, when you see this movie, I think you'll agree. Unless you're in my family. Then you probably will do anything but agree. Sigh.