Review: Who Do You Think You Are?

Very few decent reality shows remain on TLC. It almost feels like they are being run off the air. An inspiring episode of The Little Couple can be followed by an exceptionally catty episode of Dance Moms or a regrettable glimpse of the little terrors of Toddlers & Tiaras. There wasn’t much keeping the channel grounded until Who Do You Think You Are? joined their family of shows.

The celebrity genealogy show has everything. It brings an interesting cast of beloved stars to the channel and an intimate look into their lives. Each week, WDYTYA? focuses on a celebrity’s genealogy and shadows them throughout the research process and journey to self-discovery. But the show also has a sense of adventure, intrigue, and a little romance. The season one opener boasted, “Family mysteries will be revealed. And everything they thought they knew will be rewritten. Lives will be changed. Roots will be discovered. Because to know who you are, you have to know where you came from.”

The show is a British import, originally created by Alex Graham and Wall to Wall Media. Across the pond, WDYTYA? is in its 11^th season and its success has inspired 17 other spin-offs across the globe, including the American version. The U.S. adaptation originally aired on NBC in 2010. Just two years later, it was nominated for an Emmy for an Outstanding Reality Program. After NBC’s cancellation, TLC picked it up in 2013 for its 4^th season. The show remains successful after the switch, having amassed almost 2 million viewers last year. WDYTYA? continues to be produced by Alex Graham in addition to Dan Bucatinsky, Lisa Kudrow, Don Roos, and Lucy Carter. Season 5 is set to air later this year.

WDYTYA? Takes both the celebrities and viewers on an emotional journey through personal heritage, world history, and self-discovery. It brings new meaning to “skeletons in the closet” and “heroes in the most unlikely places”. There is no such thing as a boring family and WDYTYA? proves it. At one point, Sarah Jessica Parker was trying to discover whether an ancestor had been convicted in the Salem Witch Trials and Chelsea Handler was researching a possible Nazi Party connection. There are as many dark points as there are light ones. Chris O’Donnell discovered over a hundred years of military service his family gave to the U.S., going as far back as the night of The Battle of Fort McHenry in 1812, which inspired the “Star-Spangled Banner”. While watching these amazing histories and discoveries unravel, the series stops being about one celebrity and opens up as a kind of collective history. It becomes an example of how everyone’s ancestors have influenced the world.

My favorite aspect of WDYTYA? is how it links social and personal history and makes these links easily visible in the present. One of the most moving moments in the series was during Kelly Clarkson’s episode. She had an incredible and heartfelt revelation after discovering her three times great-grandfather, a Union soldier, died during the Civil War after surviving in Andersonville, the worst POW camp in U.S. history. At the time of the episode, Clarkson had recently sung “My Country, ‘Tis of Thee” at President Obama’s second inauguration.  Through her happy tears, Clarkson shared, "I just got to perform at an inauguration for a man that never would have been able to be President if it weren't for the sacrifice of my three times great-grandfather…I wish and I hope that somewhere not only my three times great-grandfather, but all those people, know that what they fought for mattered."

Like any other television show, WDYTYA? may have a misleading portrayal of the research process, especially the time and effort involved. But that’s TV. Real-time genealogical research doesn’t occur instantly just as the results of real forensic tests can’t be instantly determined. There are a number of hired history and genealogy professions involved in any single episode to aid the process. The celebrities are also free to visit a range of historical and genealogical societies, actual sites, and even other countries, something the armchair genealogist isn’t always able to do. Also, as Ancestry.com is the main sponsor, there is quite a hullabaloo over the paid service. Despite the blatant marketing scheme, I find it incredibly useful to know what kind of tools are out there and how they can be used either as a starting point or potential source for amateur family historians like myself.

I have always been interested in genealogy and used to imagine what my ancestors had been like. I think it is a subject many people find intriguing and would be interested to learn more about. WDYTYA? definitely feeds my own curiosity and is one of the things that inspired my quest for self-discovery. I watched some of my favorite celebrities confront the same questions I struggled with. I was in awe over aged documents or in tears due to loss and/or courageous acts right alongside the stars. Over the course of the episode, they discovered new things about their ancestry but also themselves and that transformation stuck with me. I started thinking about what common threads I would find when I started looking backwards. Now that I am farther in my search, I agree with everyone who has participated in WDYTYA?; it has been such a gratifying experience. As Spike Lee said at the end of his journey, “I have always known who I am, but now I know more.”

"To me, she's a hero."

Zooey Deschanel's Grandmother's Photo

via TLC

Review: Disappearance: A Map

“What she left us is a gossamer:  a life reflected, and caught; on the wing of a dragonfly.”

Sheila Nickerson admired the mysterious Lady Sarashina for her ability to capture the world around her as well as her individual perspective of Japanese court life. I admire Nickerson’s writing for the same reasons. In addition to mysterious Alaskan expedition history and Alaskan life, Disappearance encompasses Nickerson’s own daily events and thought processes. Through these minor personal accounts, the reader is drawn into the unsettling mysteries of disappearance and the unknown.

Writing is first and foremost a catharsis for Nickerson. Though she repeats this fact on several occasions, it is evident from her intrapersonal approach as she discloses her fears and asks big life questions. Nickerson wrestles with the next stage in her life, retirement, ultimately reexamining her life up until this moment. Her book runs on the clichéd metaphor that life is a journey and the body is a map of all experiences. But Nickerson’s sincerity in her soul search and her seemingly intimate prose keeps the book grounded. Her mastery maintains a safe and relatable balance between warm recollections and melancholic feelings felt in her transition. These alternately match in intensity and give the reader breaks from the spookier and sublime ideas expressed in her fears of being forgotten and previous disappearances in the Alaskan wild.

Significant portions of each chapter contain historical accounts of lost, failed, rescued, etc. expeditions to and through Alaska. As interesting as they are, I found myself wondering how such ill-fated attempts could help Nickerson understand herself in a better capacity. The subject of disappearance simply seemed to be the focus of a somewhat morbid obsession, like an interest in the Bermuda Triangle. But as history continued to unfold, Nickerson brought more disappearances to light; those of close friends, other Alaskans, native languages and culture, wildlife, etc. They are examples of her worst nightmare. Just two decades ago, she was finding connections to hundred-year-old explorations and ensuing disappearances. But I continued to find parallels in my own reading, especially as the story of Malaysian Flight 370 was slowly unfolding. The book is partly a tribute to what has been lost and/or unable to stand the test of time as well as Nickerson’s own protection against the same fate.

Numbered “records” punctuate chapters. Each is dated, followed by specific coordinates, and a very brief story of what happened on that day. It wasn’t until later in the book that I realized these records were Nickerson’s expedition notes left in her own kind of cairn—a book. She often mentions “coordinates that hold us in place”. Her records, simple and factual, are her protection against being forgotten; as if we would find evidence of Nickerson’s life or feel more connected to her journey were we to stand at these exact latitudes and longitudes.

I, too, share an odd fascination with the unexplained, mysterious disappearances, and haunting loss. I kept returning to my childhood when I was drawn to any book I could find on Roanoke, the Titanic or the Bermuda Triangle. Nickerson’s extensive research into the Alaskan expeditions was thought provoking. I was constantly torn between understanding the stories as the tragic consequences of hubris or the human desire to make a mark in the world as Nickerson explores. With her lyrical and evocative prose, I was entranced not only by her writing but her use of it to tackle a profound soul search. I felt her words spoke to my own life transition—coming into my own now that I am graduating from college. Whereas Nickerson related her own life journey and map to other Alaskans, I have sought to see my own journey and resulting map in relation to my family and ancestors.

I have never read anything quite like Disappearance, which blended history and landscape with such personal revelations. Eat, Pray, Love comes to mind, but the sincerity of Nickerson’s questions and almost “suffering in silence” persona overshadow Gilbert’s excessive whine. If you are looking for a more stimulating and transformative account, or are in the middle of a important transition yourself, I highly recommend Disappearance.

Review: This American Life

The nationally syndicated radio program, This American Life, takes the idea that everyone has a story and uses these narrative threads to illuminate American culture at large.  Its weekly broadcasts reach two million people via more than 500 radio stations from its small Chicago studio. Ira Glass, the program’s current host, began hosting the show in 1995 and since then, it's gone on to win a variety of awards. This American Life even branched out to reach new audiences during a two-year stint on television.

Each week, the program presents a theme. These themes--about home, work, family, love, faith--are explored in several acts, usually beginning with a very short anecdote as a prologue. Though This American Life celebrates the ordinary, the program’s narrative motion relies on direction and meaning. Contributors don't just tell their stories, they reflect but on what they meant and how they affected their lives. For instance, Sara’s story ‘Putting the Cart Before the Porsche’ involves an affluent childhood that was based on a corrupt financial move. But she incorporates not only her youthful take on her parents’ empty morals and haughty attitudes but also the perspective she has today. Even in stories involving more investigative journalism, the reporting staff member offers commentary and reflection  as in ‘Deep Dark Open Secret,' which features an interview with an American soldier named Adam. He and a producer, Sarah Koenig, had a somber discussion on the effects of going to war after they had corresponded while he was serving. 

This structure--anecdote and reflection--helps channel the sense of purpose Glass and his staff want to maintain in their broadcasts. Plus, it adds to the show's credibility: people tell their stories in their own words and voices--we hear their intonation, laughter, or hesitation as if they were speaking directly to us. All that, combined with Glass’s own famous voice, gives This American Life a comforting level of intimacy. It reminds me of when my parents used to listen to Garrison Keillor’s program A Prairie Home Companion. Keillor’s voice added warmth to the already familiar coziness of the more fictionalized skits and monologues in his program.

This American Life is often criticized for its whitewashed portrayal of the average American. However, without further information on the demographics of the program’s listeners and contributors, it is difficult to say whether this is a serious negative. Participants often only share their first names, without providing more context.The point is that we all have stories, no matter who we are, and that any and all of them contributes to the big picture of American life. 

I don’t often listen to radio and when I do, I'm usually tuned to the local top 40’s station. However, thanks to This American Life, I've discovered another kind of listening experience. Some stories, like ‘Except for That One Thing’ where a couple found a too-good-to-be-true deal on furniture, were downright funny (Here's the prologue). ‘Deep Dark Open Secret’ was thought-provoking but I think the one that most moved me so far has been ‘Little War on the Prairie’ in which a native Minnesotan finally learns about the events in 1862 (major disputes between white settlers and the Dakota that led to a mass execution) and tries to come to terms with the effects of his city’s silence on its history.

What I like the most about This American Life is the balance between casual and crafted storytelling. Glass and his staff never talk down to their listeners. Their reflections, as well as those of the contributing storytellers, remain conversational. It is a style I am aiming to replicate in my own work. The program’s critical success is a confirmation that personal narrative, quirky and serious, funny and tragic, can be achieved in this manner. I believe this aspect of the program’s direction is what sets This American Life apart from others. I highly recommend the program for its ability to touch and inspire the listener to consider our shared experience.

Review: Beginners

Christopher Plummer & Ewan McGregor in The Beginners.

As a Focus Features fan, I first heard of Beginners when it was released back in 2011 but didn't actually see it until recently. I was hooked within the first ten minutes by the second photomontage, which flashed photographs of various objects and events from both 1955 and 2003. I found the film so entertaining in its simplicity and warmth. I smiled and laughed, fell in love with the characters—a definite requisite for anything I watch—and even cried alongside them. But I was as much engaged by the story-telling as the story itself, since Beginners frankly explores cinema as a way to address the problems of blending autobiography and fiction in a personal narrative.

The film follows two transformative threads of Oliver Fields’ life (played by Ewan McGregor): one being the relationship with his father, Hal (Christopher Plummer), and the other with his new romantic interest, an actress named Anna (Mélanie Laurent). After Oliver’s mother passed away, Hal reveals he had always been gay and is going to finally embrace that lifestyle wholeheartedly. Oliver must come to terms not only with his father’s busy new social life--and much younger boyfriend--but with Hal’s cancer diagnosis as well. After Hal dies, Oliver experiences the highs and lows of life that come with his romance with Anna even as he copes with the loss of his father.

Beginners has a little bit of everything: drama, comedy, romance, and a foundation in real life. It's common knowledge that writer-director Mike Mills used his own experience with his father, who had also revealed his homosexuality after his wife’s death, as a source for the film. I found Mills’ script completely genuine and believable, even in the sections where Oliver converses with his father's dog. It's clear to the viewer that the dog's responses--presented as subtitles--are happening in Oliver's imagination. Moments like these bring real humanity as well as the sweet balance of comedy to Oliver’s grief.

Mills’ use of multimedia to create a scrapbooked component also sets this film apart from others. Between the two narrative threads, he weaves in graphics like photomontages voiced over by McGregor that contextualize the simultaneity and similarity of the storylines and their place in time. This effect is both existential and personal, moving the film to a deeper level while adding to its entertainment value. 

In addition to Mills’ personal experiences, the photomontage effect really brings the grey area between autobiography and fiction to the forefront. With the film's 2011 release, it is easy to forget that the second thread takes place in 2003, already placing the characters in a kind of period piece, and then even farther back before Hal’s death and in Oliver’s childhood. It was the inclusion of photos from 1955 that reminded me that the film is conceived as a memoir, whether or not it reveals a true-life story. The narratives appear to be told and lived in real time, but, in actuality, as with memoir, reflect a double telling: by Oliver as a character and Mike Mills the writer-director. Everything that we see is subject to their memories and perceptions of events, which I find to be a very interesting play on the way we remember.

The theme of perception also plays out graphically through graffiti that Oliver and his friends spray all over Los Angeles. The lens through which we see our own life events also extends to how we see history around us. Rather than draw something vulgar, Oliver tags contemporary events on the walls, drawing attention to how popular culture and the media impact our perception. Each statement is a marker of a moment in time, and thus an eventual part of history. We often forget that we are not only looking back on history, but are part of it, shaping it, all the time.

I highly recommend Beginners--even if you are not looking for a cinematic exploration of autobiography, memory, and perception, the cast brings a delightful story to life, making this a movie not to be missed.

Watch the trailer below:

Review: The Rural Life by Verlyn Klinkenborg

Klinkenborg’s The Rural Life approaches memoir through his collection of seasonal journal entries. These entries reflect the passage of time and seasonal changes brought to his farm over several years. In his opening, Klinkenborg describes how the writer in him pressured him to keep a journal but the farmer in him desired a more pragmatic approach. He not only wanted to capture the essence of rural life and how it felt, but what plantings had been done or how many animals he had at any one time. Journaling in the style he does fulfills his desire to record the everyday pleasures or practical notes of living on a farm.

“It’s no longer the writer in me that wants to keep a journal. It’s the farmer—or rather the son and nephew and grandson of farmers.”

When reflection on the land does spur personal memories, Klinkenborg’s interruptions in exposition to describe his mother’s voice or the age of the universe flow within the entries as if he was meant to speak of them all along. The beauty of his writing is simple and genuine, almost intimate as Klinkenborg shares the minutest details he notes of his land and the life that occupies it. But there is more to the book than a “herd all ones days” as he puts it.

“In America, we’ve learned to locate the meaning of rural life in the past, thereby dismissing it.”

The Rural Life brings the small-town farm back into the present. Klinkenborg makes no official claims against the progression of the modern era. Instead, he reminds the rest of the world of this somewhat hidden life of rural farmers by celebrating the farming tradition he has upheld. It is easy to forget the quiet yet extremely productive day on a farm when you live in the middle of a metropolitan city.  For the duration of the book, the reader is brought face-to-face, sense-to-sense if you will, with the earthy link between a farmer and his land not as he is in the past but in the same present as the reader.

“A conscientious journal keeper is really the natural historian of his own life.”

I thoroughly enjoyed my reading experience. Having spent much of my childhood visiting family in rural Minnesota, the summer and winter months felt as though they had been plucked from my own memory. From the first page I found a strong sense of kinship to Klinkenborg and his nostalgia as well as his relationship to the land. The progression into the other months enveloped me in the spring and fall on his farm with such effortless yet reverential descriptions of the landscape. I could clearly see what Klinkenborg was seeing when he was writing without him ever becoming too poetic or metaphorical. Nothing felt forced in his writing, even when he sporadically brought up his personal memories. Reading was more akin to sitting next to Klinkenborg and hearing him speak over a warm mug of coffee. His writing is a new model of how I am trying to approach my own accounts of rural land and memories. I want to reach that kind of level of naturalness that he achieves.

“A journal always conceals vastly more than it reveals. It’s a poor substitute for memory, and memory is what I would like to nourish.”

Klinkenborg’s writing is delightful to read, especially when he connects the scenes outside his door to his family memories. There is warmth to his descriptions indicating his genuine appreciation for what nature gives his farm. Anyone interested in a location-focused memoir will find The Rural Life enjoyable. But anyone with firsthand experience of northern rural life on or near farmland will feel right at home in Klinkenborg’s accounts.