Father Knows Best

By Mike Gange

The Film Club: A True Story of a Father and Son
By David Gilmour
Thomas Allen Publishers, $18.95, 247 pages

 

Every now and then, you run across a wacky idea – so wacky that you stop and think, “well, it might work…” David Gilmour’s wacky idea was letting his 15-year old son quit school as long as the son agreed to a sort of home-schooling – watching and discussing three films every week with his father. There were some other conditions too, such as not using drugs, but the films, and the explanations and conversations they generated, were to become the extent of the son’s education.  “Well, it might work…”

David Gilmour is a former CBC film critic, whose insightful commentary and cogent analysis had always impressed me. And to tell you the truth, I got this book as much because I wanted to read what films Gilmour thought would be worthy replacements to what I see as a somewhat unwieldy education system. However, I was soon hooked on the true story of a dedicated and loving father, at wits’ end as to how to maintain a relationship with his son whose own life was on the edge of spinning out of control.  

Gilmour is the 2005 winner of the Governor General’s Award for Fiction. For a long while he hosted Gilmour on the Arts on television. He has written six other books, but this one is different, more touching and in lots of ways more meaningful than his other notable work. To be sure, this would not be an easy story to tell. It requires brutal honesty. It means opening your personal life to your readers. It means admitting your past mistakes and present foibles. In short, it means taking the risk of allowing your readers to sit in judgement of your actions. Gilmour does all of that with a candour that establishes his credibility, trustworthiness and integrity even in the moments when he at his most bohemian.

David Gilmour and his wife switch houses with his ex-wife in order to help then-15-year old Jesse who is seriously struggling in school. Gilmour moved into the ex’s house, she moved into his loft, and under dad’s watchful eye, the kitchen table homework ritual soon became a fruitless and frustrating experience for both father and son. Gilmour realizes that he still has to engage the mind of the six foot four teenager he can no longer control physically, and one day in frustration blurts out “Maybe you should quit school.”   The two establish some ground rules and embark on the unconventional educational and personal journey.

The first film the father-turned-educator shows the boy is Francois Truffaut’s 1959 film The 400 Blows. Gilmour’s description of the film shows how it parallels his son’s lacklustre academic world, a situation that is not lost on the 15-year old. The next day he shows the boy Basic Instinct (1992) with Sharon Stone. You might remember the movie shows Stone killing a man with an ice pick while engaging in intercourse with him and the subsequent cat-and-mouse game that engages Michael Douglas as the police detective. Sure enough, Jesse is soon involved in a relationship with a stunning but cold-hearted beauty who is more interested in ripping out Jesse’s heart than enjoying a real life and loving relationship.

Thus begins a very engrossing tale. Gilmour used a system of cue cards to keep track of the movies they watched together. Next on the list is Woody Allen’s 1989 Crimes and Misdemeanours, a movie Gilmour describes as “a movie that lets you see how Woody Allen sees the world – as a place where your neighbours really do get away with murder, and goofs end up with great girl friends.”  Of course the teaching/viewing list includes Citizen Kane (1941) and On the Waterfront (1954).

The list of fine movies and their significance goes on and on, but for me, the book pretty quickly became more about the relationship between father and son. Where does one draw the line as an authority figure and where does one let the 17-year old boy and his friends sit on the front porch and have a few beers? At one point the line shifts again, as the father, son and mother (the ex-wife) take a vacation to Cuba. Gilmour is forced into the role of protector when some street thugs lure the teenager into a bar, alone, late at night.

 Jesse has his ups-and-downs but eventually turns out all right. You don’t need a “spoiler alert” to know that, but the real story here is how the father never gives up on his son. The father feels every slight dealt to the son by the cold-hearted beauty. The father feels every whistle of approval or every jeer of derision when the boy performs in public. At a Christmas party, Gilmour’s aunt, a former school teacher, says “Don’t be fooled. Teen age boys need as much attention as a new born. Except they need it from their fathers.” Obviously, these words of wisdom are not lost on Gilmour.

As a teacher, I see countless boys like Jesse, Lost Boys who you just know are not going to make out so well. When this happens, I start to wonder about the future of society. Gilmour is unconventional, sometimes downright wacky. Nonetheless, we need more fathers like him. Fathers who will admit their love of their children, fathers who will step up when they most need to be counted on, fathers who give the gift of their time. And we need more writers like Gilmour, who can plumb the depths of family love and can write about it, sharing their stories with naked honesty. Then our society just might work.

 

Mike Gange teaches media studies and journalism at Fredericton High. He is the proud dad of two teenagers.

 

 

Who Me? Yes You.

Review by Mike Gange

Stupid White Men

Michael Moore

Reganbooks, $37.95, 277 pages.

Michael Moore has it in for U.S. President George W. Bush. It’s nothing personal and he is not threatening or dangerous. But Mr. Moore hates all those, like George W., who have used their position, prestige and family connections to grow richer, or to help their friends grow richer, at the expense of those who can’t. Stupid White Men by Michael Moore starts out as a rant, aimed at those in power who have repeatedly proven they are unwilling to work to make things better for the average Joe, the environment, the poor, equal rights, education, justice, the electoral process….

While the title implies Mr. Moore takes issue only with white males, he says that is because the predominant rule makers and oppressors are white males, but he includes all those who have forgotten about other social and environmental issues, no matter what gender or race. Just when you think Mr. Moore is a left-leaning wing-nut raving about everything, he begins to cite his sources. His argument then goes from shrill aggravation to be well researched and logical. Mr. Moore uses sources like BBC News, Miami Herald, Washington Post, PBS, U.S. News & World Report, NY Times and the World Health Organization to consistently make his points. And one of his points is George W. stole that election. While the voting hung in the balance for a couple of days, the outcome was already decided, says Mr. Moore, because former U.S. president George Bush, George W.’s father, called in favours from family, friends and even Supreme Court Justices to get Jr. elected. Under Florida Governor (and brother to George W.) Jeb Bush, the electoral laws were quietly changed months before the election, disenfranchising anyone who had been convicted of a felony. Many black voters were likewise eliminated from the polls because they might not have met strict residential rules for voting.

Mr. Moore sees the election of George W. as a disturbing trend and he is clearly upset by the right wing agenda he sees being pushed on the U.S. and the rest of the world. Mr. Moore’s anger stems from the abuse of all those issues by those in “Corporations USA” who have pushed, bullied, badgered or bought their way into the public awareness while leaving their social consciousness behind. Michael Moore’s style is extremely “in your face.” He successfully employed that with his hard hitting movie about automobiles in “Roger & Me” and for the most part it works here too. Sometimes Mr. Moore is really funny, making the reader gleefully laugh right out loud. Sometimes he is deadly serious. Other times, he is motivational and inspirational, issuing a call to arms, saying the only way to achieve change is to get politically active, to become involved at any level, whether that be running for school boards or city councils or beyond.

Throughout Stupid White Men Mr. Moore trashes the obsessive money culture and self righteous business agenda and the deceptive messages being sent. Remember the last recession? Mr. Moore wonders how the rich corporations could continue to make obscene profits for share holders, the executives could carry away huge pay packets, while the average worker was being cut back. How can the U.S. call itself a peaceful country, when it sells more handguns than many other countries combined, he says. How can we be concerned about the ozone when oil companies are allowed to work unfettered in National Parks, continues Mr. Moore. How can we be told there is an energy crunch when Detroit is still selling huge gas guzzling SUV’s, questions Mr. Moore.

What Michael Moore says isn’t always pretty, but it needs to be said. Some of the issues coming out lately in the news, stories like Enron, Worldcom, Exxon and the insider trading scandals, are proving Michael Moore is much more than just a left leaning wing-nut. Rave on, Mr. Moore.

Mike Gange teaches media studies and journalism at Fredericton High.

Rave on, Mr. Moore!

Review by Mike Gange

Dude, Where’s My Country?

Michael Moore

Warner Books, $37.95, 249 pages.

 

If you tried to compile a list of those known for their consciousness-raising efforts you might include Woody Allen or George Carlin, Pete Seeger or Joan Baez. Maybe we ought to add Michael Moore in there too.

Moore is sometimes held in the same regard as the big bad wolf in the children’s story The Three Little Pigs. Like the wolf, Moore huffs and puffs quite a bit but is often dismissed as being too loud, too driven, too frank. His last book, Stupid White Men, was virtually ignored by major U.S. media, despite spending more than a year on The New York Times bestseller list and becoming the largest selling non-fiction book in 2002. Moore’s documentary film, Bowling for Columbine, won Moore an Oscar last year, but his politically slanted acceptance speech was booed (although in fairness it was no worse than some previous Oscar winners’ commentaries). His 1995 television show, The TV Nation, was too much for NBC and it was cancelled after only a short run as a summer replacement. Michael Moore’s latest book will probably also be dismissed by the major media because, as he continues to be blatantly opposed to U.S. President George W. Bush, he will be viewed again as too loud, too driven, too frank. If this work is dismissed, it would be a shame, because in Dude, Where’s My Country? Moore shows why he is someone we should recognize for his social conscience. True, more than half of this book continues to be a vitriolic attack on George W. , but instead of just bashing Bush, Moore conclusively proves this U.S. President has a hidden agenda and it is not about what is good for the free world.

Moore gleefully, aggressively and thoroughly shows how Bush’s agenda is about making himself and his cronies more money and ruthlessly grabbing more power. For example, among the Bush family’s close friends and business partners are such notables as the Bin Ladins, the ultra-wealthy Saudi Arabian family whose brother is Osama Bin Ladin. Over the past 25 years, many of the Bin Ladin family have been regular visitors to the Bush family ranch in Texas and they invest millions of dollars in the same businesses as the George W. and his father. Members of the terrorist group the Taliban were also wined and dined extravagantly in Houston while George W. was the Governor of Texas. Many of these terrorists, says Moore, may have met with the U.S. President as recently as six months before the 9-11 attacks on the U.S. Moore’s proof comes from meticulously harvested details published by some of the major media’s most trusted sources, including the BBC, the CBC, the New York Times, and the Washington Post. True, there are a couple of low points in Dude, Where’s My Country? That whole chapter where Moore has God address the reader is pure goofiness. So is that bit about drafting TV talk show host Oprah Winfrey to run for president. And true, Michael Moore’s style is still ‘in your face,’ and his writing is alternatively inflammatory, funny, angry and thought provoking. For a change, though, Moore comes across as less angry and more concerned about the long term and far ranging effects of Bush’s decisions and the favours he has done for his friends, ultimately allowing corporations more control of our lives. Moore writes, “Companies including Disney, Nestle, Proctor & Gamble, Dow Chemical, JP Morgan Chase and Wal-Mart have been secretly taking out life insurance policies on their low and mid-level employees and then naming themselves – the corporations – as the beneficiary! That’s right: When you die, the company – not your survivors – gets to cash in…And what does Corporate America call this special form of life insurance? Dead Peasants Insurance.”

If Michael Moore continues to write about the ongoing corporate control of North America and the erosion of personal rights, and writes about it as effectively as he does in certain parts of Dude, Where’s My Country? he will long be remembered as a writer with important things to say. Meanwhile, he continues to huff and puff, and try to blow the house down – George W. Bush’s White House, that is.

Mike Gange teaches media studies and journalism at Fredericton High.

More Moore! More Moore!

Review by Mike Gange

Adventures in a TV Nation: The Stories Behind America’s Most Outrageous TV Show.

Michael Moore and Kathleen Glynn

Harper Perennial $19.95 (PB), 241 pages.

Alas, I never saw TV Nation when it was on TV in the mid 1990’s. I don’t know where I was while those short lived, summer replacements were running on NBC. But I missed the show, and after reading Adventures in a TV Nation by the shows producers, Michael Moore and Kathleen Glynn, I sure wish I had seen it. Adventures in a TV Nation: The Stories Behind America’s Most Outrageous TV Show is an interesting look at how the show was conceived, constructed, and carried out. It is both a serious social statement about how we live and an irreverent, insubordinate, in your face kind of activism. It is the kind of book most high school kids need to read.

One of the social statements: how come taxi cabs regularly bypass Black men waiting for a lift and zoom over to the white guy a block away, even when the white guy turns out to be a felon and the Black guy an award winning actor? On the irreverent side: image getting the Serbs AND the Croatians to sing to each other the Barney theme song. As for in your face, let’s get a group of people all to swim to shore to party on a secluded, private beach in Greenwich, Conn. Encourage everyone to party within the limits of the high tide water mark and dare the cops to come and get you out.

I read Adventures in a TV Nation: The Stories Behind America’s Most Outrageous TV Show because I had just finished reading Michael Moore’s Stupid White Men. Sometimes Michael Moore and company are really funny, making the reader gleefully laugh right out loud. Sometimes they are deadly serious. Other times, motivational and inspirational. I know some of his pranks are a bit immature. Still, I wish there were more TV shows that were willing to take on the establishment, tell the sponsors to “bite me” and bring those pseudo reality shows crashing down with this kind of reality.

Mike Gange teaches media studies and journalism at Fredericton High. He regularly reviews books about media for the Saint John Telegraph Journal.

It’s Magical How Things Add UP!

 

Orland Magic vs. Phoenix Suns NBA game

March 3, 2009

Large Soda                    3.75

Water                            3.75

Hot Dog Combo            8.00

Nachos                           4.00

Popcorn Tub                  4.00

Beer                               5.75

Magic Magazine             5.00

T-shirt                            24.00

Magic Sweatshirt           100.00

5 “Stuffed Bear              12.00

Dancing Mascot/Stuffed 35.00

 

 

 

Reflections on Florida

 

To Each His Own

·       There are so many old timers there…many of the public service jobs seem to be taken by these oldies….toll booths, pancake houses, gift shops…one woman said to me, “Honey, I lived in Wisconsin, and when you have had enough winter, moving south is like finding the fountain of youth.

·       Hotel we were at had six bars, 3 pools, 2 “hawt” tubs.

·       None of the pools that I saw were designed for swimming laps.

·       Most of the old men have a 75 degree forward lean.

·       Beer and wine are sold in grocery stores. Liquor stores abound too, with funny names…Pappy’s Liquor, Coco’s Liquors, Pasadena Liquors.  They all seemed to have something on special. However none were called the “Fountain of Youth Liquors” but I am not sure what was served in the hotel bar at the Ponce de Leon Hotel.

·       Read the Tampa Bay Tribune ….full page ads for medicare, insurance, hearing aids and real estate.

·       Besides Americans (from Bwoston, De-troy-it or Wisconsin) Canadians are the second largest group of tourists there. Apparently Germans also love to come to Florida. Canadian really stand out in Florida: sunburned faces and white legs.

·       Gas was $2.00 a gal, which means 50 cents a litre!

·       Oranges in a grocery store were labelled “California goodness.”

·       Everybody walks the beach in Florida. Some in sweatshirts, some in jackets, but not all…I saw one woman in her late 70’s I would guess, in a long winter coat, scarf, broach, winter hat…but she was walking the beach at 7 a.m.

·       One young woman on the beach was wearing skin tight jeans, high heels, talking on her cell phone.

·       Guy near me at a pool, on a recliner, suntanning, shirtless, in swim trunks, talking on his cell phone, giving explicit directions to the office back home. His talk was blunt, direct and unambiguous – far from the relaxed pose he struck at pool side.  

·       Another man beside me at a pool said he was from “Bwoston” and if you cut him open he would bleed black and gold. Said it has been a long time since “Bobby Orr.” Said he fears playing the Montreal Canadiens, because they always find a way to break his “hahrt”, and it’s usually in the last three minutes of the game.

·       Daughter E. said she had a dream about returning to school and having no one notice that she was tanned.

·       I dreamt about an ailing father who was not responding to chemo-therapy, although he had been gone a dozen years.

 I realized that to “each his own” also means nightmares.   

 

Sears Sucks, Part 2

After the catalogue incident, I called Sears, and then I got on the email, and sent them my last post. Within a few hours, I had the following reply. I will keep you posted on the outcome. Meanwhile, it is snowing here again. We are likely to get another ten inches of snow tonight. My snow banks are already ten feet high. I doubt if I can throw snow that high. But I am back to shovelling.

Here’s the the reply from Sears.

Hello Mr. G.

Thank you for taking the time to bring your concerns to our attention.

We value you as a Sears customer and regret that you have had an unpleasant experience.

We have directed this important issue to our Corporate Customer Service department where one of our specialty agents will be in touch with you to rectify this matter.

We look forward to discussing this matter further and working with you to find a suitable resolution.

We appreciate your continued patience and apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused you.

Thank you for shopping at Sears.

Sincerely,

Why SEARS Sucks

Editorial by Mike Gange

I am up to my waist in snow, and I am thoroughly peeved at SEARS.  Let me explain.

I live in Eastern Canada. We regularly get snow storms that bring the world to an end. Or at least a complete stop. We live north of Maine, the U.S. state famous for its ruggedness. We are three hours north of Maine. When we want to go south, we often go to Maine. We often remark how much less snow there is in Maine.

We had one of those world-stopping snow storms last night. Thirty six inches of snow in my driveway. There is no school anywhere in my Canadian province that is open today.  The universities are closed, and most of their students live in dorms on campus. The local army base is closed today. Now those guys train in the arctic. So, you know when Canadian soldiers say they can’t go, it is a snow storm to be reckoned with.

I use a snow blower to clear my driveway. It shoots the snow about 30 feet into the air, and we need it to move the snow over the ten foot sidewalls of the driveway, where the snow has piled up this winter. My driveway takes me about two hours to clear. Then I usually go in front of my house and clear the sidewalk.  I’m a good citizen like that.

Snow blowing is a leap of faith. You know there is a sidewalk there, so you keep walking behind the snow blower, shooting the stuff up over the yard, high over the yard. About two feet from the end of my property, I hit a SEARS catalogue. Still wrapped in plastic, all 200 pages of it get jammed into my blades that break up the snow.

Gummed into the impeller that launches the snow into the chute that actually throws the snow 30 feet in the air.

The snow blower stalls.

I go look into the impeller and there it is…some bright looking babe in a bathing suit looking back at me, smiling, suggesting that summer would be a good time.

Why am I pissed at SEARS? Their delivery person has to live here too. He or she has to know that if that fat catalogue is not deposited right at the doorstep it will cause a problem. But the delivery person likely heaved it out of the car window, thinking that was good enough.  

If I fish it out, the impellers could turn, and I could lose my arm. It is a real skill to get that deep into a snow blower and not be cut in half. 

I called the local SEARS store. I got the automated answering machine, voiced by a faceless female.

“Hello, SEARS store is open today. And I would like to remind you that our white sale continues today. We have pillows on sale, and it will enhance your sweet dreams tonight,” she said.  

I’m thinking it will unlikely I will sleep tonight given how mad I am now.

“If you know the extension of the department you want, please press that number now,” she continues. “For photos please press 1, for hardware please press 2.” She gives me about six automatic possibilities. I try hardware. The phone rings three times, and then the mechanized voice intercepts again.   

“Hello, SEARS store is open today. And I would like to remind you that our white sale continues today. We have pillows on sale, and it will enhance your sweet dreams tonight,” she said.  

“If you know the extension of the department you want, please press that number now,” she continues. “For photos please press 1, for hardware please press 2.”

I press 1. It rings three times. Then the mechanized voice intercepts again.  

“Hello, SEARS store is open today. And I would like to remind you that our white sale continues today. We have pillows on sale, and it will enhance your sweet dreams tonight,” she said.  

“If you know the extension of the department you want, please press that number now,” she continues. “For photos please press one, for hardware please press 2. For shoes please press 3.”

I try shoes. I mean, we are up to our ears in snow. Somebody must be buying boots today.  “Hello, SEARS store is open today. And I would like to remind you that our white sale continues today. We have pillows on sale, and it will enhance your sweet dreams tonight,” she said.  

“If you know the extension of the department you want, please press that number now,” she continues. “For photos please press 1, for hardware please press 2. For shoes please press 3.”

This continues through all six digits. Then I look in the telephone book and find a 1-800 number. I call it. The mechanized voice picks up again. “Hello, SEARS would like to remind you that our white sale continues today. We have pillows on sale, and it will enhance your sweet dreams tonight,” she said. “But all of our agents are busy, so please stay on the line, because we value your call.”

Finally a young girl in a call centre somewhere unknown to me picks up the phone. I explain to her that the SEARS catalogue has embedded itself into my snow blower. She wants to know if it is a SEARS snow blower.

As a matter of fact it is, but I explain the issue is not the snow blower, but the errant catalogue. She puts me on hold, and I wait five minutes until a supervisor comes on the line. I explain the situation to her. She wants to know if the snow blower is a SEARS model, and when I purchased it. I explain the details again. I make her listen to me twice. She says this is not usually her problem, and she needs to pass me onto someone else. She gives me a different 1-800 number. I call it. I have a sense she is also forwarding my details to the SEARS legal department.

I call the new number.

“Hello, SEARS would like to remind you that our white sale continues today. We have pillows on sale, and it will enhance your sweet dreams tonight,” she said. Your call is important to us, so please stay on the line until one of our agents is available to help you.”

It is my old pal, the mechanical, dis-embodied voice.  I get to talk with a real person finally, a man who tells me he is in Montreal, and has never heard of this problem. Translation “I don’t see that here in the manual in front of me at this call centre. Sounds like a legal problem. I don’t want any part of this.”  He tells me someone will call me soon about this.

I’ll keep you posted.

Nobody has called yet. But I won’t be surprised if  I get a call from some mechanical-voiced, dis-embodied female, saying:

“Hello, SEARS store is open today. And I would like to remind you that our white sale continues today. We have pillows on sale, and it will enhance your sweet dreams tonight.”  

“If you know the extension of the department you want, please press that number now,” she might continue. “For photos please press one, for hardware please press 2. For shoes please press 3.”

 

 

 

Impresario and Philosopher King

 

Review by Mike Gange 

Another Day in Show Biz:
One Producer’s Journey
Pierre Cossette
ECW Press $19.95 CAN. 237 pages

When the Grammy Awards are presented, the stars in attendance could include everybody from the rock band Aerosmith to country crooners like Dwight Yokum. As diverse and demanding as those entertainers might be, all of them would politely defer to a nearly 80 year-old former Canadian from the province of Quebec, who has helped increase their collective visibility and popularity. Pierre Cossette has produced the Grammy Award Show on television since 1969, even investing $125,000 of his own money in the early years to ensure it got onto network television. The Grammy Award Show now brings in millions in advertising dollars but more importantly to the musicians, Pierre Cossette has given them the kind of public exposure they could never buy.

As an impresario with an impressive track record, Cossette has taken life’s lessons to heart. Born in the working class town of Valleyfield, Quebec, Cossette moved to Pasadena, California with his family in 1928, when he was five years old. During his childhood, his father pumped gasoline while his mother ran a small apartment house. Using tenacious determination and every advantage fate might bring him, Cossette went from working-class poor to owning a mansion in Malibu, as he eventually became one of the major producers in the entertainment field. His well written memoir Another Day in Show Business: One Producer’s Journey is inspiring and humorous.

Upon graduating from U.S.C. under the G.I. Bill, Pierre Cossette landed a job as a booking agent for MCA, working with bands like Harry James and His Orchestra and entertainers like Jack Benny, (Dean) Martin and (Jerry) Lewis and Spike Jones to promote their concert dates on the college circuit. Soon he was booking major talent into the hotels and casinos in Las Vegas, Reno and Lake Tahoe. While most of his experiences were positive, Cossette relates how on one occasion, he got the casino bosses to book Harry Belafonte, who was then a rising star. Cossette picked up the then young singer at the airport and delivered him to the front door of the hotel, only to have Belafonte tell him he could only enter through the side doors, because he was black.

After booking Las Vegas casinos for MCA, Cossette went out on his own, founding Dunhill Records (which he sold to ABC in 1966), then producing a variety of weekly TV shows and specials. He even had a foray into Broadway, where he produced “The Will Rogers Follies.” Pierre Cossette may have had his share of ups and downs, but in this book he accentuates the successes and human kindness he has found rather than business deals gone wrong.

Cossette is not just another Stage-door Johnny, having fun while hanging out with the stars. He admits he is a bit star struck, but certainly knows how to make the stars shine a little brighter. Repeatedly, he shows how he lives the old adage: success is 90% perspiration and 10% inspiration. Maybe what the entertainers appreciate about him is the hard work behind his genius.

Mike Gange teaches media studies and journalism at Fredericton High.

 More information on Grammy Awards: http://www.grammy.com/

 

 

Hello, Old Friend!

Review by Mike Gange

Dictionary of Teleliteracy
by David Bianculli
Continuum, $29.95, 416 pages

Sometimes, at parties or casual gatherings, it helps me solve disputes. Other times, it helps me amaze people. Sometimes it reminds me of some favorite old stories, gems long forgotten, but worth re-examining. And year after year, I go back to it for opinions and ideas. Truly, Dictionary of Teleliteracy is more like an old friend than just another dictionary.

Dictionary of Teleliteracy author David Bianculli watches television for a living. He is the TV critic for the New York Daily News, and has been a television critic since 1975. He also provides TV reviews for National Public Radio’s “Fresh Air.” In his introduction to Dictionary of Teleliteracy, he points out how Bartlett’s Familiar Quotations contains only two references to television programs, while The Dictionary of Cultural Literacy includes a single reference to Star Trek, but ignores The Honeymooners. Bianculli took the slights personally, and with what he does for a living, why shouldn’t he? The result is this fun to read, fact-filled gem, a worthwhile addition to classrooms and libraries and a likely bedside companion for afficionados of the airwaves.

Omitting commercials and music videos, Bianculli writes about television programs from A to Z – from ABC World News Tonight to Zorro. Writing with intelligence, wit, insight and great research, Bianculli shares rich details from 500 TV programs. Some of the write ups about shows are brief, barely 100 words in length, and others are much longer, but all contain essential details such as networks, starting and ending dates, stars and other notable facts.

This is what he writes, in part, about M*A*S*H: “M*A*S*H 1972-83. CBS. If this book were organized by popularity, not by alphabet, the finale of M*A*S*H: would put this entry at the front of the list: its expanded concluding episode, “Goodbye, Farewell, and Amen,” attracted 77 percent of all TV viewers that night and earned a Nielson rating of more than 60 – something no Superbowl has ever done….”

Two other random quotes from Bianculli show his affection for and interest in television. He writes, “The Flintstones was the first cartoon series in prime time – and along with The Jetsons and The Simpsons, one of the very few successful ones. The Flintstones was patterned as a stone age variation on a previous sitcom classic, The Honeymooners.”

About CBS’ Beverly Hillbillies he said, “One statistic I unearthed about this show continues to amaze me. In the entire 50 year plus history of network television, the Beverly Hillbillies is the only series to wind up as a top rated show on television in its first season on the air.”

With all the treasures he has created in this volume, I can only look forward to more of David Bianculli’s writings about television. Reading his work is like chatting with a long lost friend.

 

Mike Gange teaches media studies and journalism at Fredericton High.