Trickle Down Timeline by Cris Mazza

In Trickle Down Timeline, Cris Mazza delivers another smart, abrasive collection of short stories you'll find yourself immersed in as if you were reading a novel. The collection is framed on the scaffolding of the 1980s, one story for each year of the decade. Between and throughout, facts and cultural references are sprinkled like commercials, reminders of other facets of a decade that has been boiled down to neon and gimmicks, excess and Ronald Reagan soundbytes. This is an alternative history, with tidbits like this: "Michael Jackson, who had purchased the entire Beatles music catalogue two years before, attempted to purchase the bones of the Elephant Man." Or this one: "A twelve-day-old baby, born with a cardiac malformation, lived for three weeks with a baboon heart." Anyone who lived through the decade with any level of consciousness will find themselves saying, "Oh, yeah, I remember that." And those who didn't experience it will see another side of a time period most people seem eager to reduce to its cheapest cultural icons. The Rubiks cube. The Delorean. Cheap stuff like that.

The stories are pulsing with Mazza's familiar in-your-face energy, that sort of gritty, at times unattractive realism that refuses to be ignored. This kind of reading is sometimes an intense joy but seldom what you'd call pleasant. It's like watching reality television, in the most grindingly mundane, and profoundly unelevated settings. But the cameras are never revealed, and the characters in all their flawed varieties just reveal themselves mercilessly, into the wide open space of Mazza's literary eye.

Is it voyeurism, that makes reading Cris Mazza so pleasurable? It feels like a guilty secret at times, like a VH1 show writ sublime, where there's beauty in the degradation, transcendence in the small moments of hopelessness, the banal details of everyday life for average characters transformed by the unflinching exactness of the description into something timeless. Until a woman trying to disgust her husband's friend by calling a meatball a bull's testicle becomes a statement on what it means to be female, and a dying dog becomes a symbol of a lifetime goal.

Brilliant, disturbing, disarming, Trickle-Down Timeline is an intimate collection with reverberations across a nation's zeitgeist.

The Killing of Mindi Quintana by Jeffrey Cohen

At first glance, Jeffrey Cohen's debut novel is a crime drama. As the title suggests, murder is the central event, and the novel, like many others in this genre, delivers the backstory leading up to the crime, as well as the legal aftermath. The killer, Frederick Builder, is a retail manager at an iconic Philadelphia department store, Chanet's. He's an aspiring author, greedy but lazy, looking for that easy route to the bookstore shelves. The victim, Mindi Quintana, is an ex-girlfriend of his, the editor of a small literary magazine. He believes she can be his ticket to fulfillment, both literary and personal. Disgusted with his natural gift for organizing china displays and his success as a retailer, he pursues Mindi and writing with awkward ineffectiveness, until the death of one becomes his hope for the life of the other.

The strength of this book is the first half, when the relationship between Frederick and Mindi is developed. The depth of the characters and the complexity of the situation goes way beyond what I expect from a book in this genre. This is not a novel about an obviously creepy freak, brilliantly caught and handily brought to justice. This is a novel about a regular guy, who might be sitting next to you on the bus. We spend a lot of time with Freddy as he descends to the point where murder is possible. He starts out as a reasonable, likeable guy. At the moment the murder happens, we can almost kind of understand. It's not a book about how far a human will go, but how close atrocity really is to us every day.

Cohen's book is least interesting when it is raising sort of indignant questions about the media making celebrities of criminals. Yes, Frederick Builder gains fame and notoriety after he is "discovered" by the media and yes, that's kind of a shitty byproduct of our celebrity culture, but the topic feels kinda done to me. When the book gets outraged and starts laying out accusations that the victim is now being raped by the media... yeah, that's a little sonorous for me.

What makes this book kind of awesome is the way it violates genre expectations, not just in developing strange characters and the different point of view windows we get, but in the landscape itself, which is quite surreal and interesting. The book would make a great Terry Gilliam movie, in fact it clearly recalls the movie Brazil, with the corporate structure of Chanet's in particular referencing the bureaucracy of the "Ministry of Information." There was also a deep and inarticulate longing within the characters that felt familiar in a Terry Gilliam kind of way, not quite so much in the more polemical second half, but powerfully interesting in the first. It felt a bit like Christmas in July sometimes, as in the middle of this courtroom drama I'd get a gift of a literary passage worthy of a very different kind of novel. Had Cohen taken more time to round out the second half of book, left more space for his obvious gift as a literary writer, and backed off his mission to reveal the badness of idolizing criminals, this might have been a great book.

As it turns out, The Killing of Mindi Quintana is not a crime novel exactly. But it's a surprisingly entertaining read, left me with a lot to enjoy in terms of inventive situations and interesting landscapes (the inner workings of the department store, Chanet's, in particular will be hard to forget), and made me very curious to see what Cohen will come up with next. Definitely a writer to watch.

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Call Me Mario: What Video Games Teach Us About Writing Novels

Imagine Mario Brothers with no bombs, no carnivorous plants, no death pits, no deadly turtles. Imagine Donkey Kong with no giant monkey at the top of the ladder, throwing down barrels to kill you. Picture a version of Tomb Raider where Lara Croft just walks around picking things up and saying "Ah, nice, another priceless artifact. Better put it in my pack. My, I'm getting hungry." Sounds stultifyingly boring, and yet people write books on this model all the time.

In my work as a book doctor, I frequently run into pretty manuscripts with likeable characters and believable settings but no discernable plot. These books describe one average day after another, or a reasonable sequence of events which unfold without a hitch. The authors weave elaborate emotional landscapes and carefully illustrate relationships, but there's no problem, no conflict, no obstacle. There's no villain.

In trying to explain this issue to my clients, I realized that a book without a problem is like a video game where you can't die. Not very interesting, and why? Because nothing is at stake. If there are no problems, you're just running your character from left to right, enjoying the backgrounds and the soundtrack. And nobody is going to want to do that, without the aid of chemical stimulants.

What else can video games teach us about writing novels? Here are four important lessons:

RISK: Ever since Mario the plumber jumped on and smashed his first magic mushroom, video games have followed a very predictable formula. It's not about emotions or ideas, either. It's not about illuminating a slice of life. Game after game follows the the same exact framework: Character solves a problem by overcoming obstacles. That's it. The character saves the princess, liberates itself from a dungeon, defeats an evil ruler, or finds the missing gem by destroying enemies, avoiding obstacles, and solving puzzles. And the penalty for failure is death. Here's the truth: If you can't die, there's no point. And if there's no villain in a novel, no threat of destruction from some source, whether internal or external, there's no point either.

From Sonic Hedgehog to God of War, there are a million ways to die in a video game. What would Pacman be without ghosts? Just a way to move a yellow disc around a screen in the four cardinal directions? Now, does the character in your literary novel need to be hovering on the brink of extinction every living second? No. But there must always be something at risk, something at stake, some goal that is being pursued and something valuable that can be lost if the goal is not reached. Put a ghost in the maze. Put a wolf in the cave. Otherwise it's just more geometry, more scenery, more background. And nobody's going to pay money to read that.

SCENE: Not only are there big obstacles in video games, big villains like Dr. Neo Cortex, or Eggman, but there are minor obstacles in every scene. Every single scene has a pit with spikes, or an attacking wolf, or a zombie horde, or something. What does this teach us about writing novels? Not only do we need obstacles, we need obstacles all the time. Never write a scene without tension -- real, tangible, physical tension, whether or not it's connected to the overarching plot. Does jumping on penguins relate directly to Crash Bandicoot's overarching plot to collect crystals and save the world? No. Neither does your conflict in every scene have to relate directly to your main plot arc. But it must be there.

Somebody's cold. There's a storm coming. Characters fight over where to sit at the movies. A lightbulb is burnt out. It's hard, rowing the boat. Time is running out. The soup is too salty. I challenge you to go through your novel right now, and look at every scene you've written, and think, "How could I improve this with a piranha plant? Or a pit of spikes? Or a rogue sniper?" It doesn't have to be Dahlia Gillespie in every scene. But it should be at least a storm trooper or two. There is never a scene in a video game where a character takes a walk in the woods and nothing memorable happens. There shouldn't be one in your novel either.

CHARACTER MOTIVATION: A character in a video game never wakes up in the morning wondering what to do. Characters in novels I have recently read indulge in peaceful reveries over morning coffees, wondering exactly what they should do, where they should go, what projects they should take on. This is not interesting to read. A character in a video game knows exactly what he has to do both long term and short term, including staying out of the way of that fire-breathing minotaur, unlocking that gate, and of course saving the world. Some games actually have a "Quest Log" or a blinking X on a map, or some other kind of visual/verbal reminder of exactly what the character is supposed to be accomplishing. Every one of these guys on the right has a numbered to-do list and none of the entries on the list are "Think about myself" or "Go about my usual activities." Accounts of people's usual activities are boring as dirt, my friend. Unless I am your grandmother or you are paying me to read it, I won't.

PACING: Most video games still follow the same plot structure the earliest ones did. You play a few levels fighting your way through minor bad guys, and then you play a boss (a major monster/bad guy). You play a few more levels fighting through bad guys who are a little bigger, and then you fight a bigger boss. Repeat until you get to the boss at the end of the game, who is the Mother Brain, or Diablo, or Sarah Kerrigan Hive Brain, or whatever. This same structure works in novels, and if you look at any "how to write" book you'll see something like this:



What video games teach us about this plot structure is that as the bosses get bigger the sword gets bigger, the spells get better, the armor gets more effective. As your character ascends the "rising action" toward the climax, he or she is changing shape, redefined by the course he has taken, affected by the scenes he has been through, the obstacles he has overcome. In many games (and novels), while the action intensifies, the situation seems to get worse and worse and worse as you approach that epicenter of awfulness, where the ultimate battle takes place between you and the ultimate bad guy. What video games show us overtly that novels also have to achieve is the transformation of the character that allows the climax to make sense, the fight to be won by that same character that was so feeble and feckless in scene one. The character has to change, from start to finish. in a video game, you can see it happening -- a +20 sword of smiting, a thousand power-ups, a flame thrower. In novels, it has to happen on the inside, but it's just as important.

Of course there are ways in which novels transcend the formulaic machinations of video games. But if you are looking for basics, they're all there, even in the very first Mario Brothers: an initiating incident, a problem, the fights, the obstacles, the villains, the rising action, the climax, and the denouement. Try it out: stand your novel up for comparison with your favorite video game, and see if your character needs a princess to rescue, a gorilla to fight, or maybe if more magic mushrooms are in order.

American Idol Recap: Week 3 Semifinal: The Girls

After an unfortunate visual gag that involved Ellen nuzzling Simon's ear, we're off! No time to chat, because it's a one hour show! Let's choose our top twelve, people! Or, let's spend an hour asking these questions: "Was that the right song choice for her? Or should she have sung a different song? Oh, a different one? Well which one?"

KATIE STEVENS: Katie sings Kelly Clarkson's song "Breakaway." The judges have been telling her to go younger, so you'd think Kelly Clarkson circa 2004 would be appropriate. However, tonight Ellen tells her that she still wasn't old enough to sing these lyrics. Yeah, because singing "I'll spread my wings and learn how to fly" requires a really mature stature. Apparently, nothing is young enough for Katie Stevens to sing, and the judges request that if she makes it back next week she try out the song from Teletubbies. That might be young enough to accommodate her extreme youth. Simon gives her ten out of ten for trying but says it wasn't good enough. He tells her she sucked (long pause) the life out of the song. Kara says she just doesn't know what kind of artist Katie wants to be.

SIOBHAN MAGNUS: Siobhan slowly tell us that her father taught her to sing, and then slowly reveals that she will sing "House of the Rising Sun" to honor him. I'm sure any father would be honored by his daughter singing a song about being debauched in a whorehouse. It sounds pretty dope, in the words of Randy. The first verse she sings acapella, which provides that magical "moment" feeling we love to see on Idol, and then the lone guitar kicks in, and then the whole band comes in very predictably, which prompts Ellen to praise the fact that she made the song "current." Simon calls it ploddy, boring, and dark. Kara puts in that she doesn't know what kind of artist Siobhan wants to be.

LACEY BROWN: Lacey is lurking/sitting on the side of the stage during Siobhan's critique, so they can immediately transition over to her singing Belina Carlisle's "The Story." What, no stupid anecdote about her childhood? No drippy dedication to Grandma or dear dog Pedro or poor dead Uncle Hoss? We must really be on a time crunch. She never gets up from her seat, just stares down the camera and daintily yodels her way through it with her shiny, shiny lips and her fake, fake color contacts. Wow, the judges love her song choice! She's back on track, they say! Even Simon thinks it sounds like it's already on the radio. Kara is excited to report that she knows what kind of artist Lacey Brown will be!!!!

KATELYNN EPPERLING: Katelynn sings "I Feel the Earth Move," by Carole King, wearing high waisted overall skirt, and mildly be-bopping around behind some kind of keyboard. She seems to have been attacked offstage by a bath loofah which is still stuck to the top of her head. Or maybe it's like she teashed her hair up into a big huge blonde afro and then right before she went on stage she tried to shove her forehead into a furnace fan. The judges hate it. They're disappointed with the lack of specialness. She didn't look like she was competing, not trying hard enough. Mole visibility quotient: 60%.

DIDI BENAMI: Didi hasn't played her guitar since Hollywood Week but now she's going to play the hell out of it. Or at least she's going to play two strings in syncopated chords again and again during a trippy, stripped down version of "Rhiannon" by Fleetwood Mac. Randy missed the wow moment but thought it was better than last week. Ellen says, "Yes indeedy, Didi" and everyone around her literally barks out "Ha ha ha" as in three syllables of obligatory laughter. It's amazing to me that they hired a comedian to be a judge, an actual comedian with a successful career, and she has delivered less than half a dozen viable jokes in six weeks of screen time. Kara and Simon loved it. The judges praise her for coming back strong after being "mauled."

PAIGE MILES: Paige has taken her turn pressing her face against the furnace fan backstage, then maybe had someone throw a bucket of water on her hairdo for good measure. She sings a dreary, hopeless version of "Smile" by Charlie Chaplin, staying safely behind the beat and whispering shyly. The judges hate it and Simon calls it the "end of the road." Paige repeats a few times that she loves the song and that it's emotional for her. Ryan asks why it's emotional, maybe digging for a sympathy vote or two, but Paige seems to be saying that the reason she's emotional is that Michael Jackson recorded that song and is now dead.

CRYSTAL BOWERSOX: Crystal sings "Give Me One Reason" by Tracy Chapman, and plays the electric guitar. Then she sits down on her amp to take her criticism, too cool to even stand. Actually, we later learn that the weight of her extreme coolness has shattered her kneecaps, and she has had to be rushed to the hospital. We must all rearrange our schedules for the next three weeks so that she can get repeat kneecap replacement surgery, but this time she needs titanium ones, to sustain the massive encumbrance of her sick, sick cool. The judges ask her to please take a poo, so they can bathe in its glorious light. They offer to clean her feet with their hair. Kara reaches into her abdomen and pulls out a throbbing, dripping kidney, offers it to Crystal just in case. Simon calls her "most improved" and "the one to beat." Maybe she'll disappear when they move to the bigger stage. We can only hope. American doesn't like an Idol that peaks early.

LILLY SCOTT: Lilly plays an electric mandolin and sings "I Fall to Pieces" by Patsy Cline, zombie edition. It's violently overwrought and dull and halloween-ish. The arrangement is reminiscent of an olde time hootenanny, like you can imagine someone sucking a hayseed and playing the string bass. And not in a fresh, updated way. In a way where you chew the seeds of actual hay. Look, Patsy Cline is Patsy Cline. She's an icon. If you're going to do Patsy Cline as olde time country hayseed, you have to be, like Loretta Lynn or Willie Nelson. If you're going to do it modern, you're doing it like Cowboy Junkies or, like The Lemonheads or something. Ellen, clearly having listened to something completely different sung by someone other than Lilly, praises the originality of her style, and Kara calls it contemporary and current. Yeah. At least they're loyal.

Best Performances: Siobhan Magnus and Didi Benami
Worst Performances: Paige Miles and Katie Stevens
Going Home: Katelynn Epperly and Paige Miles

See you tomorrow night!

American Idol Recap: Semifinal Week 2: The Girls

Tonight on American Idol and Local Craft Faire: Kara has borrowed Jermaine's butter dish in order to sculpt her very own hair tumor. Simon uses the word "misunderestimated" in all seriousness. The girls take their turn sharing little known facts about themselves. And we learn how to make a pin cushion out of a thrifted wool sweater!

CRYSTAL BOWERSOX: What don't we know about Crystal? Crystal has a twin that was too square for her, so she absorbed him into her body while they were still in the womb, and now wears him as a second liver. "I love you, bro, but you're so square and you know it!" she says kiddingly at her own abdomen. She also carries with her the shrunken heads and teeth of her fallen enemies in a small Chinese pouch. Did I mention teeth? Crystal is still missing several of hers -- I guess the medical emergency must have been a dreadlock stuck in the vacuum cleaner, not mouth surgery as I had guessed. She sings "As Long As I See the Light" by Creedence Clearwater Whatever, and promises she's going to gospel/church it up, which to her means taking a week to slide up into all the big notes. She does a confident, credible job and the judges build a temple for her worship. I'd say at this point if the judges get their way, between giving her pimp spot on week one, executing an unprecedented schedule change so she could recover from her illness, and tonight's fawning, that we're looking at a finale of Crystal Bowersox and Lee DeWyze. If America gets her jumpy, pimply way, it'll be Tim Urban and Alex Lambert in the finals. YIKES.

HAELEY SOMETHING: Haeley reveals a secret about herself: she likes to make headbands and hair accessories! I hope she's already got her Etsy shop in place because she's going to have a lot of time to wind that ribbon. She delivers a completely flat, one-dimensional performance of what was already a really annoying, one-dimensional song: Hannah Montana's "The Climb." She wanders hopelessly around stage, warbling past the pitch now and then, lisping, clutching, tottering around like a kindergartner in Grandma's heels. The judges "keep it real" and filet her with a sharp knife. Camera cuts to her small, gaunt, long-haired grandmother, who blinks her tired, sunken eyes and mouths these words to the camera: "I will cut out your heart and eat it raw if you don't vote for Haeley."

LACEY BROWN: Lacey's secret is that she refurbishes antiques to sell. She says it relaxes her -- and this is exactly what Haeley said about her headband creation. Because that's what you want in a pop star -- someone who knows how to relax with a glue gun. Not sexy, ladies! She's going to sing "Kiss Me" by Sixpence None the Richer, on Kara's recommendation. She has a bigger, maybe better voice than Leigh Nash. However, what she doesn't have that Leigh Nash has is the ability to sing "Kiss Me" without making me want to open a trap door under her feet and send her to the bowels of the earth, to be eaten by a balrog. She is either nervous or secretly forty-five years old, but the cute bounce and the wink and the twinkle play really fake. She seems like a nice lady, though. A nice, middle-aged lady.

KATIE STEVENS: Katie interviews so cute. She's goofy, she's irreverent, she laughs at herself -- what's not to like? Here's someone who, in stark contrast to Lacey Brown, is actually young, and in bangin' shoes she kills "Girl, Put Your Records On." You know who she reminds me of? Katherine McPhee. A lot. I bet she has a real moment later on in the show with "Somewhere Over the Rainbow." The judges criticize her fiercely -- WHY? I thought she sounded fine. Don't worry, she'll be ok for next week. I like to think that Katie is a closet nerd, who is, like, always on time with her papers and does all the extra credit. Ryan asks her what she's going to do about their critique of her song choice, and she says, "I guess research and look up stuff." Katie, I love you! Google it!

DIDI BENAMI: Didi reveals that she was the school mascot in middle school, and then a cheerleader. She plans to bring up her "star meter" a little bit by singing "Lean On Me" by Bill Withers. In my opinion, she succeeds. I mean, she bopped around on stage too much and had too much fun, like, overly connecting with the lyric, but I thought the voice was strong. Didi has been compared to Brooke White, and I get that, but Brooke could never have pulled off Bill Withers. The judges disagree, and skewer her with a hot poker. They hate the song choice, call it screechy, a disaster. Ellen suggests she should have sung "Lovely Day." Yeah, because that's one where she could have really showed what Kara calls her "vocal stylings." Glory notes left and right. Am I watching a different show than the judges are? Is Didi's actual flaw in the judges' eyes is her failure to be Crystal Bowersox?

MICHELLE DELAMOR: Michelle reveals that she is the children's choir director at church, and the tape shows her pre-show prayer and meditation, just so everyone knows what team she's playing for (the good guys!). Last week the judges called her safe, so this week she's going to sing "With Arms Wide Open" by Creed, because a song with a four-note range constitutes taking a huge risk. It goes about as well as you think it might it would -- listening to her was at least as fascinating as watching a bulldozer fill in a small pool. The judges (AGAIN) criticize the song choice. Randy hated it, Kara loved it, Simon agrees with.... Kara. Oh whatever. And you know how many people are going to buy Delamor/Creed on ITunes? Not a lot.

Hey, I have an idea -- what if the judges just criticize the song the contestant is singing and the performance that actually happens on stage, instead of dangling this other thing they might have done, something that the judges can't quite define, that the singers should definitely do next time. I'd like to hear "That was bad," or "That was good," but I am not interested in "What if this or that?" You know what it is? It's lazy. they focus so much on song choice, you start to think it's all about that. And when you realize that the song choice is *not in the contestant's control* it becomes harder and harder to pretend this whole thing isn't ridiculous.

LILLY SCOTT: Since the coaches have been working with Lilly to get her to open her eyes more, I may not get another opportunity to say: HAPPY VALENTIMES! The surprise that Lilly reveals tonight is that she was born by the river in a little town. Apparently just like that river, she's been running ever since. She sings her Sam Cooke very well, the judges scream with love, prompting a confused Randy to say "That's something we will never say about you, that you're unique, you're your own person." Huh? Oh well, she has silver hair.

KATELYNN EPPERLY: They give her a white grand piano, a miniskirt, and the "this is a moment" spotlights, and Katelynn delivers a really sweet Coldplay cover. Adequate as a mild but name brand mouthwash.

You know what does not make entertaining television? Watching someone do something on their IPhone. Like something really pedestrian and uninteresting. With their fingers in the screen saying, "I push this button, and then this thing happens, and then I push this button." It's like getting a video game tutorial from my 10-year-old son, an experience I have compared to being boiled in goat oil. If I don't have an IPhone, I don't care. And if I do, I already have figured out how to send a video with it. K?

PAIGE MILES: Paige relaxes by coloring. Literally coloring animals in a coloring book. With markers and crayons. Then she sells her nicely outlined , tidily-colored pictures on Etsy. Paige looks better than she did last week, but I think I've identified that it's the green contacts that are giving me the "I've actually been dead for weeks, look how fistfuls of my hair come out in my hands" vibe from her. Paige sings a Kelly Clarkson song that Kara wrote. The judges give a mixed review -- Kara indulges in a little "Hey, who wrote that? Oh, me? Right, me!" and points out that when she wrote it, she wasn't happy with the guy, so maybe Paige shouldn't be smiling. I realize that a lot of time has been spent tonight in debating whether these women are happy or not, if they should smile or not. If I cared, at all, I would be all -- did they ask the boys? whether they are happy people? or -- but wait, I don't care. At all.

SIOBHAN MAGNUS: Siobhan reveals that her method of warming up before the show is blowing raspberries. If that doesn't make the "Let's look back on your journey" clip montage, I don't know what will. Dressed like a second grade teacher doing a walk of shame (complete with a headband that might even relax Haeley), Siobhan sings "Think" by Aretha Franklin. She screams her way through it, mouth open, teeth flashing, hitting a note so far in the stratosphere that it instantly kills all the fairies in the room. The judges love her.

Let's look back at the weirdos in the competition, in reverse order: Siobhan Magnus, Lilly Scott, Crystal Bowersox. Then there are the boring people: Haeley, Lacey, Michelle, Paige. Regular people: Katie Stevens, Katelynn Epperly, Didi Benami. I think the boring people will go first, the weirdos will blow up at some later point, and it will be Katie Stevens standing there at the end. That's what I think.

What do the judges think? Well, just in case we forgot, because Crystal was first out of the gate tonight, they remind us specifically that like Crystal the best. Crystal, Crystal, Crystal. The judges will really cry when she goes home. They'll rant and stomp their little feet. But the teenaged girls of this fine land are not going to vote her into the finals. Consider that they're trying to get Lady Gaga to mentor -- can you see this field taking a crack at that catalog?

How do you relax? Have you ever bought a coloring book page off Etsy? What's in Lacey Brown's hair? Who won the week -- girls or boys?

American Idol Semifinal: Week 2 Recap: The Boys

Breaking News! Crystal Bowersox was rushed to the hospital today, and cannot perform tonight! She cannot perform! Everything must change, and the universe must be restructured to accommodate this new information. Up is now down. Black is now white. Ellen is now a comedian. Kara is now a music industry insider. There are doctor's orders at work. This is official! Translation: We forced Crystal Bowersox to have dental surgery. She is still full of bruise and swell. Tomorrow, she will be sufficiently iced, but check her teeth! Do you dare gaze into the dental horror that is Crystal Bowersox's mouth? Let's go together. We don't have to stay long, just long enough to know the truth. Hold my hand. Don't look directly at the brown ones.

Fortunately there are 10 guys on the payroll, ready to perform tonight instead of Crystal and the Harridans -- and I'm sure the lack of rehearsal time and interruption to their schedule won't negatively effect them at all!

News! Kara got a spray tan. Good decision. If she had trotted out that bright red dress without turning on the tan, it would have been hard to take.

News! Ellen is doing a few jokes tonight! Real jokes, as if she were a comedian on a television show, trying to entertain an audience, instead of a wide-eyed regular guy off the street, just happy to be here, Ryan. Right, there is a reason that Ellen is on the show and it's not because of her blinding insights into the music industry. She can be funny -- if she can stop surpressing that, we might be able to figure out why she was added as a judge.

This week the contestants' interview segments will reveal something about themselves that we don't know. They will also extensively recap what happened on stage last week for us including bluetone taped segments of the judges' comments. Who needs these recaps? Was someone watching ice dancing during the show last week? Were you?

MICHAEL LYNCH: Michael's unknown secret is that he is really into musical theater, making him the first straight man to ever reveal this secret. He went to a performing arts high school and now he just loves to dance around on stage with his little shiny cane accessory, kicking up his heel accessories. Way to challenge my assumptions, there, Michael. You are just one giant man, full of cute surprises. He sings "This is a Man's World" by James Brown, with the stated objective of defining himself as a front man, not a supporting act as Simon described him last week. He's cute, and he does try hard, but he's kinda just goodish. The judges react as if he had just turned himself into a giant pile of money. Randy gives him a standing ovation. Ellen makes a JOKE! A REAL ONE, praising the song as "educational." She gets laughs. Kara calls him potentially "a great artist." Simon gets on the pimp train too. Ok, whatevs, but he will be slain in the theme weeks, srsly.

JOHN PARK: John tries to shock us in interview by sharing that he has only been speaking English since 4th grade, and his first language is Korean. This would be a surprising revelation if he didn't look so completely Korean. Like yeah, I was born in Michigan, are you going to frakin' die from shock now, or what? He has an acapella group called "Purple Haze" that is waiting anxiously to get their lead singer back, having long since given up on their collective manhood. John sings a very boring John Mayer song, sporting a white v-neck t-shirt, clearly aware of the source of his many votes. I am not in his demographic. At all. The judges praise him -- he is so much better than last week! Yawn.

CASEY JAMES: Casey's revelation is that he does not have a television. Instead he works on his house and tries out different hairstyles in the mirror, plucking a stray here, an eyebrow there, widening his eyes, narrowing them, opening his mouth really wide, closing it, going "WEEooWEEooWEEoo" and seeing what that looks like from the side, etc. While cavorting around in his rehearsal space, he shows us a mysterious box but quickly closes it, promising to reveal its contents only if he makes it to the top ten! Vote, girls! We want to find out what's in that medium-sized brown box, right?! Thank you, Casey. Last week I was bemoaning the lack of a reason to punch you in the face. Now, I have one. And maybe that's what was in the medium-sized brown box after all. A much-longed-for justification for scorn. Casey's rendition of "I Don't Want to Be" recalls Bo Bice, Chris Richardson, and everyone else who ever used it on the show. He pulls out some lead guitar, but no one really cares. Even Kara is unimpressed, saying he took "two steps back" tonight. Casey will not be going home, though. We must know what's in the box.

ALEX LAMBERT: Tonight Alex reveals that he has his own secret language that he made up in sixth grade. It sounds like fake "my ancestors are Cherokee" stuff like on Better Off Ted. He whines about his terrible stage fright, saying, "I get nervous that's not regular nervous. It's not even me any more nervous, it takes over my whole body." It takes over his body and styles his hair like Carole Brady*, puts on a plaid sport coat, vomits, writes a couple of bad checks, picks up a guitar and sings "Everybody Knows" by something or other. It was less of a disaster than last week. Randy praises his niche-finding. Ellen exhumes her banana analogy and praises his unique style (now the banana is ripe). Kara praises his recordable tone that producers would die for. Really? That twangy, coppery, whingy little voice? Ryan, experiencing a journalistic personal best, asks: "Would you be upset, like depressed, if you weren't on the show?" Alex: "Yeah, it's like, totally my dream right now, so yeah."

TODRICK HALL: Todrick is going to sing Tina Turner. Ryan asks Todrick why he's choosing another lady song after he got shouted at for picking a lady song last week. Todrick replies that he knows that he can change up the song just enough this time, and not repeat the mistakes he made last time. To be fair to Todrick, these contestants have been told again and again to pick a song and change it up, make it their own, just like David Cook and Adam Lambert. After some grainy footage of Todrick in tights dancing the Nutcracker, he sings "What's Love Got to Do With It?" all slowed down and breathy, with a weird tempo, weird rhythm, and a weird amount of fist-pumping. In other words, he does exactly what he did last week all over again. Ellen goes off her mission statement completely, and forgets to any anything funny. Kara criticizes his R&B runs. Randy tells him he changed the song too much. Simon tells him to quit singing.

JERMAINE SELLERS: Jermaine interviews that he wears footie pajamas because his father won't turn the heat on in their house. He complains cheerfully about the judges' comments last week, and comes off likeable. He emerges on the stage having shaved his hair up into an inexplicably rounded point. It's like he used the cover of a butter dish to mold his hair. Maybe he is trying to "change it up" and "make it his own" where "it" is the shape of a human skull and "his own" is a weird-ass hair tumor. To make matters not at all better, he is wearing a plaid bow tie, a spotted shirt, a grey cardigan, and jeans that look like he fell into a puddle of bleach. He sings "What's Going On" by Marvin Gaye with the same goofy, slippery vocals and sleazy eyebrow motions he pulled out last week. Everyone hates it.

The thing is, Todrick and Jermaine basically repeated their performances from last week. And got screamed at for it. But why should they not? Last week, they got enough votes to stay. Why change?

Back from the break, Randy warmly tells us, "Thank you for choosing Idol." Idol peanut butter? Idol for state senate? Idol = life?

ANDREW GARCIA: Andrew's secret is that he is a break dancer. He can spin around on the heel of his hand. He is singing, "You Give Me Something" by James Morrison. I've never heard the song before, and I probably haven't heard it now. However, it's not terrible. Without his guitar, sitting on the meaningful stool, bathed in a bank of blue spotlights, Andrew is completely believable as a kinda contemporary jazz guy. Likeable, if a little wobbly on pitch. The judges are meh.

AARON KELLY: It's time for the exploding fetus to reveal a secret about himself! What will it be? That he's secretly cooking two livers? He lisps to us apologetically that he really likes photography, and actually says the words, "It allows me to be myself in my pitchers. Nobody can tell me the right way or the wrong way to do it. I can do it just my way." Face to face with that kind of droopy, moronical optimism, I have no choice but to vomit flaming knives from my mouth, hair, fingers, and toes, and destroy the world with my fury. Sorry! But then, wait. Aaron's soft voice and blinking innocence lead me to believe, suddenly, that he is super gay. Now I feel bad talking about how he is a wet, dripping fetus clutching the microphone with his gelatinous unformed fingerbuds. But, I can't help what I know. He gives us "My Girl," singing and riffing through all the riffs and pauses, over an arrangement that couldn't be more diluted and Disneyfied. There was actually a pink and yellow sunburst radiating in and out on the LCD screen behind him. The judges liked it. Aaron giggles self-effacingly. So, yeah, he is a gelatinous, quavering, moist GAY fetus. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Except if you're on television. In which case, dry off.

TIM URBAN: What don't we know about Tim Urban? Surprise! He's one of the Duggars. Urban is just a stage name. Dammit! Now he will never get voted off. Tim reveals that before he squeaked out that whispering falsetto last week that he said a little prayer for help. He must have prayed to God to take his voice away and replace it with a handful of wet feathers and depressed beetles. Tonight he sings some crap like you probably heard when you were in college and you went to an open mike and some asshole with hair like Shawn Cassidy got up and danced behind the microphone like a middle school girl high on Fanta and orthodontic glue. Randy hates it. Ellen recommends that since he has no stage presence and no charisma, he should become an actor. But she meant it, like, not as a joke. Simon liked it. WHO CARES? The only reason Tim and Alex are still around is because the American teenaged girl likes her man limp, nervous, and licking his lips constantly.

LEE DEWYZE: Lee reveals his secret: He had to go to a school for juvenile delinquents for a while, and a teacher helped him turn his life around. Nice story -- I think I heard America give off a collective "Awww." Lee sings "Lips of an Angel" against the very significant night sky and stars background. He wears a blue t-shirt and jeans and manages to make it look like it doesn't matter. I liked it, the judges liked it, Lee is in the pimp spot, and I think he pretty much has it made into the top ten. I believe he will be dismissed at some point right before the end, basically following a Daughtry-esque plot progression into a career as a front man for a band, not a pop star.

Best Performances: Lee DeWyze and Andrew Garcia
Worst Performances: Jermaine Sellers and Aaron Kelly
Going Home: John Park and Tim Urban

*Carole Brady joke brought to you courtesy of my son's rockin' violin teacher, Mrs. V.

American Idol Semifinal: Week 1 Recap: The Boys

When the show opens, the top 12 guys are standing at the edge of the stage as if ready to be shot to death with arrows. A pudgy Ryan Seacrest marches down the line, barking out threats and demands. Chest in, recruit! Scruffy chin out! Clearly under orders to ignore the camera, the "singers" look full of fear and polyester stuffing. They should be afraid. After all, the girls sucked big rotten mangoes last night and if these guys aren't careful, they'll be sucking on them too.

I actually do like a few of the contestants tonight. If I can maintain any level of respect or affection for any of them two hours from now, I'll be faint with shock. The judges predict nerves will rule the evening. Kara recommends that if they're nervous they find a place they're comfortable with. How about their garage? No? Nestled in their mama's bosom? No? Then it has to be the Idol stage. Sorry, Kara.

TODRICK HALL: Todrick's clothes are unremarkable: congratulations Todrick's clothes! He turns in a scant, nervous reinterpretation of Kelly Clarkson's "Since You've Been Gone," re-imagined as a Gwen Stefani style reggae song, like if "Sweet Escape" was sung by a nervous man who had been told to dance for his life. After demanding all night last night that they completely violate expectations and change up songs to fit their own style, the judges filet him for "making it his own." Simon called it "bordering on stupid." Ryan begs for votes based on creativity. Todrick's face says, "But I thought I was supposed to--" but then it's time to flash his numbers and move on, leaving Todrick's incredulous carcass blinking in shame.

AARON KELLY: Aaron Kelly is just a fetus still encased in an amniotic sac. He's the type of dripping, mucousy fetus that likes to wear jogging pants, a thin hoodie, and a gold necklace around its ropy, wobbly neck, but not tonight! Tonight, the moist and delicate Aaron is all cowboyed out in a flannel shirt and torn jeans, and sings "Here Comes Goodbye" by Rascal Flatts. He struggles along, straining away with his undeveloped lungs and his finger buds clutching that big heavy microphone. Panting, gasping, slipping, he hits the glory note hard and explodes. The judges like him. Ellen's critique: "Ditto to all that."

JERMAINE SELLERS: Jermaine interviews to remind us that he was the one who famously whined that the band messed him up on his last Hollywood solo. Then he sing "Get Here" in every key imaginable, with a whole lot of winking, nodding, sex-eye, and grinning. He is wearing a grey tuxedo coat over a cotton henley, with a satin rosette just like Granny used to make, and a black fedora with no brim. He looks like he was wearing a regular hat and then walked into a giant sander or something, scraping the brim right off it for a disconnected, disastrous effect. The judges hate him, and I also hate him. After the critique, Ryan asks Jermaine if he's made peace with Michael, meaning Michael from the band. Jermaine frowns and stutters, pricelessly, "Who's Michael?" Oh, really, who is Michael? He's the guy coming up on stage right now so spontaneously for this super-spontaneous moment of ha ha forgiveness, except that Jermaine is such a diva, he can't even laugh. What an idiot. Michael should stuff him into a compost pile.

TIM URBAN: Tim has a very catlike upper lip and also fangs, do you see this? And rained-on skater hair. In his photo shoot, he pulls a wacky-dacky pose jumping up in the air with his arms out. Like hey look at me with mah sweaty-sweaty armpits! And the gag is, he actually has big sweaty armpits! HA! Tim sings "Apologize" by One Republic, and the gag here is that he actually has, like, no falsetto register. At all. So it's like "It's too late to apologize! It's too late! It's too late to apologize! It's too late!" Where the greyed out words are actually little mouse squeaks. Recognize that there were multiple vocal coaches, producers, directors, and other bozos that okayed this song choice and this performance. The judges shred him and he admits it was a last minute switch. I thought Randy clarified last night that they weren't supposed to sing songs that made their voices sound bad. He should have mentioned this includes songs that they actually physically cannot sing because sounds that come out of mouths do not magically happen just because you really need them to. You have to make them down in your throat, and if the song calls for a sound that your throat cannot create, you end up standing their like a supreme doucheface, squeaking and wishing.

Hey, Edward Cullen is on Lost now!

JOE MUNOZ: If Ellen Degeneres was a small, Mexican man Joe Munoz would be that small Mexican man. As it is, he's just another black-eyed man the size of a jockey in a fringed scarf singing "You and I Both" by someone I don't know. He sings adequately, putting him right on the top of the pile for the night. Ellen congratulates him for being comfortable on stage, and surprises nobody by liking the performance. She says, "I think people are going to look at you and say 'He can sing, and he's comfortable on stage' and vote for you." Yeah, because here on American Old Sandals, we look for people who "can sing." Note: Joe is a lip-licker, and that will get more significant as the season wears on. I predict that by April, if I haven't killed myself yet and Joe is still on the show, I am recommending Clorox chapstick.

TYLER GRADY: Thank you, Tyler Grady, for being an actual entertainer. I enjoyed your fun, relaxed rendition of "American Woman" and I think the audience did too. No winking, no glory notes, no runs, no nerves. It sounded good, he worked the stage, and he was as authentic as a person singing a 45 second song can be. I think the main reason I hated him in the audition shows was that his skin was so relentlessly freakin' shiny that it hurt my eyes. The judges told him he was all style and no substance, and demand that he brings it into this decade. Because they haven't spent weeks telling people to know who they are and stay true to that. Tyler doesn't look too bothered, but promises he will go to the mall if voted through. Great.

LEE DEWYZE: Lee looks apologetic, as usual, for breathing the air. He is a constipated, resentful version of Elliot Yamin -- remember that guy? Lee sounds pretty cool for about half of his performance of "Chasing Cars." If you close your eyes you can almost forget he's a hunchy little troll. I can see him singing something Daughtry-ish, but I can also see him grabbing a bone from the carcass in the road and scampering back under the the porch to gnaw on it. All of the judges but Simon chastise him. Lee stands there pulling on the hem of his shirt like a dork. Shifting from foot to foot, he then charms the hair clips off America with his unpretentious answers to Ryan's dumb questions -- he is having the best time of his life and he never wants this feeling to end. I almost start to think he's kind of cool, and that his story arc will involve him coming out of this shirt-pulling shell and being a star. Then I feel manipulated and resentful, and I snarl at passers-by.

JOHN PARK: John sings "God Bless the Child." As Ryan announces it, I feel like calling out... No, John, no. You must not sing that song! How could it work? I don't know what I was expecting to come out of his mouth when he opened it, but what did come out was something bad. Something bizarre-o, because John Park has absolutely no accent when he is speaking. What happened to him when he sang was a mystery. It almost sounded like someone with a thick Asian accent trying to sing really jazzy black slang. The judges absolutely hate it (except Ellen, who would like it if the contestants squeezed a glop of poo out the bottom of their pants and then sat on it). John shames them by sharing that for him, the song is about his parents, and how they worry about money, and how the reason he is here is because of that song. Ok, he doesn't have to go home this week.

MICHAEL LYNCHE: Big Mike! The guy who skipped the birth of his child to compete in American Idol! This competition must mean everything to him! Enough that he certainly wouldn't show up on stage in a western shirt and jeans and tennis shoes. Oops, seems not. He sings "This Love" by Maroon 5, playing a tiny guitar which we never ever hear. He got through it just fine, and he reads as likeable and cool. The judges ask him to challenge himself more, and say that he shouldn't get cocky. When Simon criticizes him, he snaps back, "Aowww!" then threatened to give Simon some of his arm muscle. Standing next to Big Mike, Ryan Seacrest doesn't look so puffy. Big Mike will be back next week.

ALEX LAMBERT: Alex looks like the male version of that smelly hippie Crystine Bowsentowler, but instead of her ballsy attitude, he's got tulips for testicles. His goal is to show people that he can perform, as he puts it, that he is "able to." He sings "Wonderful World" which has the worst lyrics ever for an American Idol song pick. Check it:

I've been down so low
People look at me and they know
They can tell something is wrong
Like I don't belong

Staring through a window
Standing outside, they're just too happy to care tonight
I want to be like them
But I'll mess it up again

I tripped on my way in
And got kicked outside, everybody saw...

And I know that it's a wonderful world
But I can't feel it right now
Well I thought that I was doing well
But I just want to cry now

Yeah. Great lyrics! Who in their right mind would sing this song in a competition? It's like Eeyore's theme song. Bah. Alex looks miserable, hunches up his shoulders, lags behind the beat, and in general dies an awful death on the stage. No joy, no confidence. Ellen compares him to an unripe banana. Alex gives props to the band and reveals this is the third or fourth time he's ever sung in front of people. Endearing but sucky.

CASEY JAMES: Who doesn't want Casey James to do well? He's cool, he's hot, he's a good singer. He has given us no reason to punch him in the face yet, right? He sings "Heaven" by Bryan Adams, sitting on a stool with his guitar (which we can actually hear), and delivers a very decent performance. Yes, he took off his shirt in his audition. Yes, he's had his hair highlighted. Yes, he pronounces it "Lying here in my yarms," but for now I want to believe, okay? I want to believe. The show plays up the whole "Kara is in love with Casey" meme, and Ellen admits that he's going to get votes no matter what, almost admitting that it doesn't matter what he sings. Yes, he will get votes. Casey has a Sawyer thing going on, and a natural swagger. He is hard not to like. GOOD JOB, CASEY. For now, I am on your side.

ANDREW GARCIA: Full disclosure: I really liked this guy coming in. He's rough, cool, short, and looks like the birth control glasses are in this case not an affectation. He sings "We're Going Downtown Sugar" by Fallout Boy. I think the key could be a little lower, the song was a little repetitive, and in general the mix was a little light on bass, but I still like him. The judges like him too, and forgive all in memory of the day he played "Straight Up" by Paula Abdul.

Folks, this week was awful. This is the point in American Idol where we the people always say, "This was really the best you could come up with?" All those stadiums full of people, all those wails and riffs in Hollywood, and these 24 people are really the greatest unsigned vocalists in America? And we scoff and scorn. Luckily, we know that as the competition wears on, we will grow to hate some of them even more, and our current state of bewildered apathy will turn into a fine point of disgust and scorn. Something to look forward to.

Best Performances: Casey James and Lee Dewyze
Worst Performances: Aaron Kelly and Tim Urban
Going Home: Jermaine Sellers and Alex Lambert

American Idol Semifinal: Week 1: The Girls

AMERICA! IT'S OUR TURN! TO TAKE THE REINS! OMG! ANOTHER SEASON OF AMERICAN IDOL!

The first segment of tonight's American Idol plays on a weird edge, as if someone moved up the broadcast time by half an hour and didn't tell anyone on set until thirty seconds before they were live. Like someone yanked Randy out of the bathroom and Ryan was off camera tying his shoes. Ellen is scripted to worry about Simon's grabby hands, complete with a "roll tape!" You guys had months to come up with Ellen's first joke, and this was it? Awkward. And boring.

News: There are a bunch of women. Tonight they are going to sing. Are you freakin' kidding me? This is awesome news, and I LOVE THIS SHOW!

Paige Miles: Paige is wearing the first fashion disaster of the season: a lacy homecoming funeral dress with a wide silver leather belt. She has been made up like a zombie, grey paste all over her face, including her lips. Really, I think the makeup artist hates her -- she couldn't possibly look worse if she went and pulled out a handful of whatever is in the drainspout and used it as foundation. She sings "All Right Now" by Free, virtually unaccompanied due to a mixing glitch, or maybe someone quietly laid a large marshmallow directly on top of the band.

The microphone is super sparkly.

Ashley Rodriguez: Ashley looks pretty cool in a white gold jacket, white gold shoes, and fantastically sheer pink lip gloss. Again with no band in evidence, she's just trying to be "Happy" by Leona Lewis. Kara identifies Leona Lewis as the Mariah Carey of "our generation." Eh? Kara is 39. Mariah Carey is 39. Ashley Rodriguez is 21. Leona Lewis is 24. So while Leona Lewis might be the Mariah Carey of Ashley's generation, I'm sorry to report to Kara that the Mariah Carey of her generation (and mine) is... Mariah Carey.

I already forgot both the first two girls. Who were they again?

Janell Wheeler: Janell sings "What About Love?" by Heart and does fine, considering no one can hear the band! Can you not hear the band either, or is it just me? Maybe they're doing this on purpose, so we can really hear the vocals, without the benefit of that pesky instrumentation? Maybe the style in Kara's generation is to have your backing band sound like they're under a dirty mattress, not even trying to get out?

Ryan asks the judges to pontificate about song choice, and Randy suggests the contestants not sing songs that will make their voices sound bad. Brilliant. Look, if anybody doesn't get by now that the way to choose songs that suit your voice is to choose a song that has nothing to do with your voice and then warp the key signature, time signature, volume, and tempo until it is completely unrecognizable, they have not been watching the show. You don't get props from the judges by singing songs. You get props by reinventing songs. We are only waiting to see who from this season will be our exciting reinventor. Which brings us too...

Lilly Scott: Lilly Scott reminds me of that whore character that Rachel Dratch played on 30 Rock. You know, the one that said, "HAPPY VALENTIMES!" Also, she has hair extensions hanging from her ears. Lilly sings "Fixing a Hole" by the Beatles. She oversings it a bunch, but her voice is the only one so far that can stand up to this empty mix -- unaccompanied she's just fine. The judges liked it. I get that she's cool and she sings on pitch, but they go on and on about how different, how authentic, how unique she is. People, she is not original. The judges love the fact that she's indie. Randy points out that while she sounds like Duffy and Lily Allen, it's okay because that's actually who she is. So, when you're blindingly original in a completely derivative way, that means you're authentic. Or something. Lilly makes the "I need glasses" face. Does she look like Tracy Ullman or Rachel Dratch? Tracy Ullman or Rachel Dratch?

Katelynn Epperly: Katelynn hasn't decided whether to cover that mole on her forehead or just let it ride. Some of her interview shots she's tried to cover it, sometimes not. Tonight it is out in full force, like a beacon of authenticity in a world of Duffy wannabes. Except she looks like a young, tarted-up Bernadette Peters. Someone needs to tell Katelynn that you have to spend a lot of money on red lipstick for it to actually be red. Hers is pinked out. She sings "Oh Darlin" by the Beatles with a whole lot of fake angst. She delivers it adequately, despite the fact that half a crow is burrowing into her hair during the performance. Ellen actually says the words, "I liked it a lot." What the hell is the purpose of having judges, seriously? "I liked it a lot"???

Haeley Vaughn: Haeley sings a Disney channel slash porno version of "I Want to Hold Your Hand" wearing a shorted-off wedding dress, complete with a little veil holding thinger in her head and lace white tights. This is definitely *the* visual of the evening, wow. She never stops smiling, through the entire interview segment, song, and critique. Kara responds by calling her "pure." I hated the performance more than anything I've seen on television in the last twenty years. Her chin-digging, the shiny red guitar she couldn't really play -- she sounded and looked like she was on Barney. It made me want to kill everyone in the room and then die myself. Ellen says, "Speaking as someone who likes music, I enjoyed it." Simon agrees with me -- THANK GOD.

Lacey Brown: Wearing a tablecloth over black leggings, a plastic Lacey Brown doll and her lone vapid backup singer massacre Fleetwood Mac's "Landslide." They slip and slide around every single note up and down the scale like a couple of limp trombones. It was sickly and sad, riddled with the kind of knowing, you-and-me-baby eye contact that contestants seem to think will provoke people to vote. Her lip gloss looks fantastic though. Do we have to hear from every judge? It's like a chore getting through them all, takes much longer than the performance itself.

Michelle Delamor: She interviews that the most exciting thing about this experience is that her family is there with her. Maybe her family normally ignores her or runs away from her when she comes near. Must be special, getting all this attention from them. She sings "Falling" by Alicia Keyes, and it sounds like someone has fixed the mix a little bit, but it's still deadly boring. I don't remember anything about her from Hollywood week or auditions... do you? She certainly has a lot of teeth. The judges give mild praise.

Didi Benami: She fondly remembers singing "Terrified" for Kara, and reports cutely that her Idol journey has been emotional and spiritual. Gross! She needs her head slammed in a book, before she can experience one more inchoate emotion. She sings "The Way I Am" by Ingrid Michaelson, and she's wearing a crocheted rainbow vest. Sounds comfortable, quirky, and for once a little understated -- I actually like it. Simon accuses her of trying to sound like Duffy, and misses a spark. Then we make our death march down the line of judges where they all say the same thing, one after the other, all down the line. Why do we have four judges? We could just have four barking dogs, or four people leaping into different colored pools of water, or four bells ringing. It would be faster.

Siobhan Magnus: Throughout the audition process, she was unbeautiful, long on teeth and short on polish. She cleans up, however, pretty well in a black shirt dress, with a magnolia behind her ear. Someone has taken a stern stance on her eyebrows and attacked them with a mower. She sings "Wicked Game" by Chris Isaak, which shows remarkable restraint, and she pulls it out like a pro. There was almost no audible back-up, but it's okay. Nothing to be ashamed of in this performance, and that's saying something.

Crystal Bowersox: Crystal interviews that the reason someone as obviously cool as she is deigned to try out for a low, greasy-hamburger-and-fries show like American Idol, even though she's all indy and shit and awesome and can like play the harp and has dreads, is because she has a son. She adds, "Mama needs a bigger paycheck." She sings "One Hand In My Pocket" by Alanis Morisette, and right in the middle she gasps and pulls on the harmonica some. Simon calls her bullshit, and points out there are 10,000 girls capable of doing that song that way. He recommends she do something original, and she whines that the show doesn't allow originals. Then everyone on the show falls down at her feet and froths and foams, begging her forgiveness and promising to change their whole format to accommodate her. Simon rushes off to consult with another executive, and when he comes back, they let her win the show, right now, tonight, just because she is so real. Or, they ignore her comment and tell her to sing David Bowie. Oh piss me a river, dreadlots. You sold your soul; don't pretend you still own your music.

Katie Stevens: Katie reminds us that she is young, has a grandmother, and that we care about her. It wouldn't be the semifinals without am attempted haunting via heartfelt rendition of "You Know How I Feel" by Michael McBubble, so here we go. Katie tries winking and shoulder-shaking, and it looks like a middle schooler doing karaoke. If I'm listening to her, it's not that ridiculous, but as soon as I open my eyes, I'm ready to decapitate her. It was cutesy, weird, and ultimately it was unbrave, and that's what was wrong with it. It was timid. Simon calls it pageanty, but Kara points out that if she'd killed the song, he wouldn't be saying that. That's true. She didn't kill it.

This has been another show on my television. Now, vote for your favorite.

Here is something I must say: Ellen follows everything with "You're great." Ellen should be fired right away. She's not funny, she's not insightful, she keeps on talking. Also, if you want to hear how the show was supposed to be mixed, listen to the reminder clips at the end of the show -- they have the balance right at last.

Best performance: Didi Benami and Siobhan Magnus
Worst performance: Haeley Vaughn and Lacey Brown
Going home: Paige Miles and Michelle Delator

The Widow and the Tree by Sonny Brewer

In a connected world, where every place is right next door to every other place via cell phones, airplanes, and the internet, it was really lovely to read a novel that was truly of a very certain place. The Widow and the Tree takes place in extremely rural Alabama, and the disconnected nature of the location separates the reader from any particular time, or any invasive modern influence. Without the ringing, buzzing, and informing, what's left is a quiet book that ends up booming, a small story that resonates.

A five hundred year old live oak is the central character, as it frames the lives of a few strange characters who also inhabit this swampy and wild backwater. If you told me before I cracked it open that I would be deeply engrossed in a novel which is essentially about a tree, and tangentially about a couple of hermits, I would have been skeptical. However, the scene that Sonny Brewer paints is compelling and surprising in its depth. Rather than limiting the book, the narrow scope propels the reader farther into the landscape, so it's possible to read a chapter about the noises a bird makes tapping on the branch of a tree and actually still stay engaged. It's possible to really be quietly present in this dangerous, haunting world of the Ghosthead Oak and start to know it, or at least to know how much you don't know about it.

The book is small, but it penetrates like a bullet. It's as specific as a fingerprint, and as unforgettable as a face. I'm impressed with Brewer's restraint, both in language and in characterization. There is nothing goopy and romantic about this widow, nothing drearily tragic about her hero either. The wilderness is hard, and the book is hard, but it's also beautiful in its simplicity.

The Widow and the Tree is a prime example of why MacAdam/Cage is great and would be sorely missed.

Water for Elephants is a Master Class in Craft

Water for Elephants was a runaway bestseller, a breakout book for author Sara Gruen, and a book club darling. The comments you hear in reaction to this book range from "Loved it" to "It blew my mind, changed my life, and I chewed my own wrists open when it was over." Not everyone likes every book, but I have to say that this one has met with universal approval from readers of every stripe. Writers, take heed. Water for Elephants is more than a good story; it's a seminar in technique from which aspiring writers could definitely benefit.

Lesson #1: Milieu. Choose to write in a world that people want to read about. Gruen set her book in a traveling circus during the depression. I wanted to read it before I had any idea what the plot might be like just because of where it was. For this book, you could almost write the pitch just based on the setting: the time, the place, the freaks, the violence, the hidden world, the desperation... it is automatically interesting just because of where and when it is. Want to write another book about someone who lives in an apartment in a trendy neighborhood in a modern city? Good for you. Have fun tweaking that one. Sure, Gruen had to research the hell out of her book, but she wisely chose a deep deep deposit of fuel in which to sink her well.

Lesson #2: Pacing. Water for Elephants has no down time. There is no break in the plot, no difficult middle section, no long period of rising action and building complication. The story goes from peak to peak, escalating constantly from the day the main character sets foot on that train to the very end. Gruen provides relief from the action by switching from the main plot in the past to the framing story in the present, but she never gives us a slow chapter in the circus plot. Looking at the structure and pacing of WFE, you realize that the thing about writing a novel is, you really don't have time for those slow chapters. Are you sitting on a middle section that kinda drags, just because things are "developing"? Are you happy with a plateau in the center of your book? Don't be lazy. Ratchet up the slope of that line that takes you from low start to high finish. Steeper is better. Don't waste time on low energy chapters.

Lesson #3: Transparency. In this book, there are no distractions from the characters, the story, and the world that Gruen is revealing to us. Her prose is not glamorous; it's not fancy. It is effective because it disappears. It's the kind of book you forget you're reading. You think you're listening, and not listening to some pretentious twat rhapsodizing just to hear herself talk, but listening to a story urgently told, every detail important. Instead of witnessing the construction of a narrative, it's like we're seeing a curtain pulled back. The focus is only the story, only the work, and it's so clearly rendered it's like a pane of glass. Any imperfection and you know you're looking through a window. So when you're writing away and you're falling in love with a turn of the phrase, a bit of something you think will be called "lyrical" or whatever, think carefully about whether what you're adding in there is going to show up in that pane of glass, or whether it's going to work to make the view more clear.

Writers, if you're waiting to read Water for Elephants, don't wait any longer. There are more than a few ways to tell a story, but here is a very successful formula for you: 1. Write in an interesting world. 2. Write without pause, relentlessly, every scene amplified and alive. 3. Write transparently. You're not the focus, the words aren't the focus, but the story is the focus.

Ten Questions to Ask Your Friend Who Just Read Your Novel

An aspiring author recently asked me to help him figure out what to say to his friends before he gave them his novel to read. He wants them to read critically, give him honest feedback, but he's afraid they'll just phone it in because they like him.

When you hand your friend a novel you've written, he or she knows you've slaved over it for months, maybe years, and how much it means to you, and how devastating it would be if he told you "Oops, it's terrible." He doesn't want to be critical, or hurt your feelings, which is why the most common response from a friend who critiques you is something along the lines of "It's good!" or "Good job!" Hearing "I liked it" presented as a critique is not helpful to you at all. But how can you get your friend to be honest when she only wants to make you feel good?

Here are ten questions to ask that will not put your friend in a tough spot, but will still give you some useful input on your novel:

1. At what point did you feel like “Ah, now the story has really begun!”
2. What were the points where you found yourself skimming?
3. Which setting in the book was clearest to you as you were reading it? Which do you remember the best?
4. Which character would you most like to meet and get to know?
5. What was the most suspenseful moment in the book?
6. If you had to pick one character to get rid of, who would you axe?
7. Was there a situation in the novel that reminded you of something in your own life?
8. Where did you stop reading, the first time you cracked open the manuscript? (Can show you where your first dull part is, and help you fix your pacing.)
9. What was the last book you read, before this? And what did you think of it? (This can put their comments in context in surprising ways, when you find out what their general interests are. It might surprise you.)
10. Finish this sentence: “I kept reading because…”

Your friend is probably still going to tell you, "It was good!" However, if you can ask any specific questions, and read between the lines, you can still get some helpful information out of even the most well-meaning reader.