Book Review: Two Trilogies by Robertson Davies

I’m going to go out on a limb and say that most Americans have never heard of Robertson Davies, novelist, essayist, playwright, actor, professor and publisher, who died in 1995. It’s a shame, really, because this old-fashioned Canadian has written some of the cleverest, most erudite-yet-accessible and tightly-plotted novels I’ve read.

His Deptford Trilogy is made up of three novels: Fifth Business (1970), The Manticore (1972) and World of Wonders (1975). My paperback copy of this omnibus has 825 pages. The same cabal of characters inhabits all three novels although the focus of each separate novel is different. Fifth Business is told in first person and narrated by Dunstan Ramsay, a Canadian boy who grows up to be a schoolteacher and a world-renowned expert on saints. The Manticore is related as dialogue between David Staunton (son of Boy Staunton, a childhood and adult friend of Dunstan Ramsay) and his Swiss Jungian psychoanalyst. World of Wonders returns to Ramsay, technically as first-person narrator, who quotes the conversations and stories told to him by Magnus Eisengrim, a famous magician. The action that sets the three novels in motion is this: Ramsay, as a child, ducks a snowball thrown by Boy Staunton which hits Eisengrim’s pregnant mother, causing her to go into labor prematurely.

The Cornish Trilogy is comprised of The Rebel Angels (1981), What’s Bred In the Bone (1985) and The Lyre of Orpheus (1988) and the paperback comes in at an impressive 1,136 pages. As in the earlier trilogy, the same characters populate all three novels in varying degrees. The Rebel Angels takes place at a Canadian University: an eccentric art collector, Francis Cornish, has died, naming three of the professors as his executors. What’s Bred In the Bone leads us through Cornish’s very interesting life, from his childhood in a small town in Ontario, to his university education in Toronto (where his path crosses that of Dunstan Ramsay), to his apprenticeship as a painter and restorer, his war experiences and his return home to Canada. In The Lyre of Orpheus, the executors of Cornish’s will have established a charitable foundation which is sponsoring the completion of an unfinished opera by a doctoral candidate prodigy.

I don’t remember how I discovered these books. I do remember sitting down with The Cornish Trilogy, a little intimidated at first, but almost immediately getting sucked into this world Davies had created. These novels are dryly funny, intellectual – incorporating, with reason and clarity, art history and criticism, comparative literature, opera theory, hagiology and Jungian archetypes (to list just a sampling) – and yet understandable to the layperson. The scope of the narratives span decades, generations and continents but Davies brings everything together by the end – the Lost writers could learn a thing or two from him about tying up plot points! Do not be put off by the number of pages, although I suppose in this age of Harry Potter folks are less alarmed by a book’s thickness: these smart and funny novels should be savored at length.

Reading is Fundamental (for Dogs)

For better or worse, I am selfish. I am not charitably-inclined and I hoard my precious recreation time like Gollum and his Ring. This is why it was so out of character for me to apply to the local Animal Refuge League for a volunteer position. Now, I am very much an animal-person: I have had dogs and cats all my life (and goats, sheep and pigs for a while growing up); my current dog, Becky, is a rescue from the very same local ARL. I have never wanted to volunteer for the shelter before because I figured it would be heartbreaking to not be able to take home all the animals that were having a tough time finding new homes. But when the shelter posted a brand new volunteer program – “Reading & Relaxation” – I reconsidered.

This R&R program “gives volunteers an opportunity to spend one-on-one time reading and relaxing with dogs in the shelter and reminding them that calm behavior reaps its own rewards.” Giving a shelter dog some quality quiet time with a human who is not placing any demands on the dog should reduce the dog’s stress. A calmer dog has a better chance for adoption. Sign me up! I thought.

The application paperwork for volunteering at this shelter is daunting. In March, I filled out a four-page application which wanted, among other things, my level of education, my experience/skills (“Please feel free to attach a copy of your résumé” – I thought I probably didn’t have to do that) and two non-family member references. (Again, please keep in mind that this is for reading out loud to dogs). And just to give myself an edge over the competition, I even attached my proposed reading list:

▪ James Herriot’s Dog Stories – Although I own the whole All Creatures Great and Small series, I thought the shelter dogs would prefer to start out with happy dog stories.

▪ My Family and Other Animals – by Gerald Durrell. Durrell (brother of author Lawrence Durrell), who grew up to be an internationally-known naturalist, chronicles his family’s five-years on Corfu in the late 1930s. One of my all-time favorites - the only book I ever stole (from my third grade classroom) – this book is jam-packed with dogs, birds, bugs, scorpions and bats, as well as an entire menagerie of human characters.

▪ Cat on a Hyacinth Hunt – by Carole Nelson Douglas. This mystery novel was given to me as a joke but it turned out to be a pretty good tale, enough so that I’ve read several others in the series. Set in Las Vegas, there are two protagonists: Midnight Louie, a black tomcat who thinks he’s Sam Spade; and Louie’s person, Temple Barr, a redheaded casino PR rep with a penchant for high heels and solving crime. I’m hoping that this would not be too edgy for the dogs to listen to, what with a saucy cat as a main character.

So I sent my application in and waited. And waited and waited until May 15th when I was contacted for Volunteer Orientation. With my three books at my side, I joined approximately fifteen other potential volunteers (most of whom wanted to walk dogs, cuddle cats and assist in adoption counseling) at the Orientation … which consisted of a 10-minute PowerPoint presentation read word for word, bullet-point by bullet-point, by the presiding volunteer. Our applications were handed back to us, in case we wanted to make any changes, and we were told that we would be called if and when anything opened up. If we were not called within six months, we’d have to reapply. Thank you for coming and don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out.

It’s been over four months since I first submitted my application. I haven’t yet been called and, at this point, my volunteering fervor has waned somewhat. In fact, my ego has taken a bit of a blow: what kind of an incompetent can’t get picked to read out loud to unwanted dogs?

Summertime Drink Recipes

Still no Deadwood DVDs in my mailbox ...

One of my favorite things to do in the summer is sit on the dock at camp with a frosty beverage in hand, dangling my feet in the pond and watching the sun work its way west towards the mountains. Usually the frosty beverage is beer, but on the really hot days beer can be too heavy.* So what are the time-honored favorite cocktails of which I then avail myself? I'm so glad you asked. Oh - I usually pour my mixed drinks in pint glasses so as not to have to get up so often for refills.

Tonic-assisted: gin & tonic (usually Tanqueray but I've been branching out to Bombay Sapphire which is more delicately floral and less junipery) or rum & tonic (I prefer Mount Gay here; a really dark rum, like Gosling's, works better in a Dark and Stormy situation.)

Seltzer-assisted: I already mentioned my crush on Stoli Blueberi & seltzer/club soda; limoncello & lemon seltzer is lovely too, and the seltzer really cuts through the stickiness of the limoncello

Michelada: Salt the rim of a pilsner glass. Squeeze in the juice of a lemon, add enough hot sauce to pink up the lemon juice. Add a really cold pilsner (I like Corona) and shake some coarsely-ground black pepper on top. Drink half the michelada at one go, and then work your way through the rest. (I was introduced to this spicy treat at my baby brother's wedding outside of Pucon, Chile, by Robbie, a New Hampshire native and purportedly one of the best white-water kayakers south of the equator.)

Frozen: Bourbon slushes (recipe from Cuzzin Kathy). 1 1/2 cup bourbon, 12 oz. frozen lemonade, 6 oz. frozen orange juice, 6 cups of water, 1 cup of sugar, 2 cups of brewed tea. Thaw the frozen ingredients enough to mix together with everything else. Freeze, and then scrape up into cups like a sassy granita. (Seems like a lot of water, doesn't it? I haven't made this for AGES so the recipe may need some tweaking.)

Key Lime Margaritas: 1 can of limeade, 1 limeade can's worth of tequila, 1/3 can of triple sec, 3/4 can of water, 1/2 can of Key Lime Liqueur. Mix it all together and serve over ice; blend with ice if you're high maintenance. (Recipe compliments of Bug)

Sangria: 1 bottle (750 ml.) red wine (merlot or shiraz), 1/2 cup orange juice, 1/4-1/2 cup sugar, 1/4 cup dark rum (or brandy - but I'm more apt to have rum in the house). Mix it all together, add sliced citrus fruit (oranges, lemons, limes, whatever). Splash in some unflavored seltzer right before you serve it. Obviously, if you want more kick, add more booze.

Bloody Mary: I do not have a good Bloody Mary recipe! Anyone willing to share theirs? I like 'em spicy.

*As probably mentioned elsewhere in this blog, I am a beer-snob - I only drink microbrews. You couldn't pay me to drink that pale mass-produced Mill-mich-busch-coors-bud crapola.

Quinoa (or, clearly not a t.v. episode recap)

Sorry for the Deadwoodus-interruptus of late: my Blockbuster Online queue got a little disheveled and now I'm in the middle of BSG Season 2.5 (have you seen the guns on Apollo? Mm-mmm-mmm-mm-mm.). Also, Mr. Mouse is a huge Tour de France fan and since I seem to control the remote 75% of the time, I thought I'd give him first dibs while the race is going. (They're in Flanders today and just passed the coolest castle ever.)

So, then, quinoa (pronounced "keen-wah"). If you're not eating it, you should be. It's a gluten-free, complete protein whole grain from South America - the Incas first grew it over 5,000 years ago - which cooks as quickly as couscous but is much more hearty. You can find it in the health-food section of major grocery stores and it comes in traditional (white) and heirloom (red) varieties. I find the red quinoa takes about five minutes longer to cook than the white. I use it as a side dish in lieu of potatoes, pasta or rice; my sister-in-law mixes it with lentils for a main dish. It's got a nice, mild, slightly nutty taste. Try it - you'll like it! Next on my alternagrain menu: kasha (roasted buckwheat). I'll let you know how it goes.

Oh, I also want to reiterate my profanity disclaimer from my first Deadwood post. My Deadwood recaps contain a lot of really bad language but I wouldn't be able to quote any dialogue if I didn't use the swears. Again, if it's too offensive, please don't read the Deadwood recaps. And, as Bartles & Jaymes were wont to say, thank you for your support.

Knocked Up - mini-review

We finally got around to seeing Knocked Up last night and I'm going to score it the way I would score The 40-Year Old Virgin: screamingly funny in some parts but about twenty minutes too long. Bonus points for keeping my husband awake for the entire movie; Little Miss Sunshine was the last movie we saw together and he fell asleep three minutes after the start. There may have been beer involved. I'm just saying.

I have recently become a big Seth Rogen fan, since about a month ago when I re-watched the entire Freaks and Geeks series. It was very nice to see him exhibiting some acting range here, which he didn't really get to do in 40YOV or You, Me & Dupree (I suppose scene-stealing in those movies can't really count as range). Katherine Heigl did a great job - she's come a LONG way since Roswell. I didn't really care for Leslie Mann - too shrill and screechy - but that's the way the part was written, not the actress's fault. And I absolutely did not recognize Martin Starr: Bill Haverchuck from F&G and the hairy bearded guy in this movie ... he's aged well!

One final note: giant beer-snob kudos to Paul Rudd (I love Paul Rudd) for drinking Sierra Nevada throughout the movie.

Bitchin' Camaro - Transformers movie review

I've never been much of a Michael Bay fan - I recently saw The Island and thought it was a perfectly decent science fiction movie, acted fairly well by pretty people and Steve Buscemi, that was completely overwhelmed by gratuitous and grandiose explosions. His movies tend toward the slick and showy, supersaturated with color and parched for substance. In addition, I am not a robot-nerd/Autobot-fangirl; I never watched the cartoon or played with the toys; I wouldn't know an Optimus Prime if it walked up and bit me. But for some reason I wanted to see Transformers. And damn, now, if I don't want to buy a 1974 yellow Camaro with black racing stripes.

This movie was a hoot. I saw it at a sparsely-populated 10:00 a.m. matinee (I was the only female in the theater) and given how much the tiny audience was enjoying the show, I can only think that seeing an evening show in a packed house would be so much more fun. I chuckled out loud a couple of time (the robots make lame jokes!), I'm pretty sure my jaw dropped two or three times, and I drove home checking out all the passing cars, trying to imagine what kind of 'bots they'd morph into. Granted, some parts are pretty foolish, like when the Autobots strike poses and introduce themselves and the whole hide-the-giant-alien-robots-from-my-parents scene went on far too long. I really don't like chihuahuas. Every woman/girl who wasn't Sam's mom was far too hot to be human. Prime's voiceover seemed to serve no other purpose but set up Transformers 2. But really, this is a popcorn-flick: no thinking necessary - pure, lunatic entertainment. And boy does Michael Bay like to blow shit up!

It's a little difficult to tell what's going on in some of the Autobot vs. Decepticon battles what with all the CGI flailing and tumbling and buildings crumbling and assorted chaos, but the CGI is amazingly well-done; I especially liked Bonecrusher rollerblading up the freeway. Shia LeBeouf does a good job and really sells it (I'm thinking I may have to check out Disturbia now just because I enjoyed him so much here). I loved John Turturro's clip-on tie - hee. And Bumblebee is just fun. I understand that he was a Volkswagen Beetle in the original cartoon. I hope the hardcore Transformers fans are okay with the change because that Camaro, the older one, steals the show. "I love my car!" says Sam, and so say all of us.

Deadwood – “Bullock Returns to Camp” (S1E7)

The dropping: Al’s patience is fast running out with regard to buying the widow’s gold claim. Bullock has had most of his sense of self-preservation beaten out of him in his fight with the Sioux warrior. Charlie is mourning his friend as best he can. Over in the smallpox tent, Jane and Doc win some and lose some. Alma finds herself getting all heated up with her husband scarcely cold in his grave. And grifters have targeted both the Gem and the Bella Union ... I’ve seen a couple episodes of this show now, and I’m predicting that Al is not going to take this sort of thing lying down.

Bullock and Charlie ride into a fort; Jack’s paint horse is tied up there so they’re obviously in the right place. They find Jack, drunk and apparently not that popular with the locals: “You can find the fuckin’ jerk in that bunkhouse.” They introduce themselves as Bill Hickok’s friends (which clears the room), knock Jack unconscious, tie him to his horse, and take him to Yankton for trial. Back in Deadwood, two teenagers are canvassing the camp, looking after their missing father. The girl is Veronica Mars – or will be in a couple months - here they call her "Flora." Dan is quite taken with her. No one has seen their father and so they look for some work: Al hires the boy, Miles, to sweep up around the Gem; Flora turns down an offer to turn tricks with the Gem whores. Doc, Jane and the preacher are some wicked busy tending to all the smallpox sufferers. Incredibly, Andy has risen from the almost-dead, and he credits Jane with saving him. “Them as heals under my care stay fuckin’ healed,” crows Jane triumphantly. For some reason, she is cleaner than she’s been in all the previous six episodes. Doc gives Andy some hand-me-down clothes and sends him on his way.

Sol takes Trixie, Sophia and Alma in his wagon to Garrett’s funeral and Trixie reminds Alma to pretend to be stoned as she leaves the hotel since Al will be watching. He is watching, and Alma’s not as good an actress as she thinks she is, because he growls, “That widow ain’t fucking high.” Al is displeased with Trixie and E.B. for assuring him otherwise. E.B. retorts that he thinks Al wants to buy the claim for himself, not to keep the Pinkertons off his back. Al sends him off to the funeral with instructions to get the purchase done. Flora has found her way to at the Bella Union and is showing her father’s picture to Cy. Neither he nor Eddie can help her, but Joanie manages to talk her into whoring for them. Flora says she wasn’t virgin like her brother thinks, and she seems realistic about never finding their father. She also seems to take quite quickly to the whoring.

The preacher is much more restrained at Garrett’s funeral than he was at Wild Bill’s. Trixie and Sophia stand off to the side a little, and Sophia names her dead sisters while picking flowers. Soon they’ll be able to call her by name, I just know it! As the funeral party sings their hymn, E.B. sidles greasily up and unsuccessfully renews his bid for Alma’s claim: “Please stop talking to me, Mr. Farnum!” Just then, Bullock and Charlie arrive back at camp; Bullock joins the funeral party but Charlie can't bring himself to go near Bill’s grave yet. Dan lets on to Al that he rather fancies little Flora. E.B. scuttles back to the Gem to inform Al that Bullock has returned and may attempt to put a kibosh on their plans. Alma and Bullock flirt a little as she tells him that she doesn’t require him to assist her in her affairs. He asks if she’s firing him and when she says no, he insists that he will continue on her behalf. She then proceeds to make him uncomfortable by confessing her former opium habit and then blushes, “I had better manners before I was abstaining.” I think the widow’s got an itch she wants to scratch. Don’t do it, Bullock! Bring your wife out from Michigan!

Trixie stops by the hardware store and Sol tries to flirt with her a little. She doesn’t encourage him, but she doesn’t shoot him down either. Jeesh, everyone’s making eyes at each other these days. Charlie brings Sol some supplies to restock the store; he doesn’t want to talk about Bill or acknowledge saving Bullock’s life, even when Sol wants to thank him for it. Poor Charlie. E.B., being a “stickler for self-delivered messages,” pops in to tell Trixie that Al wants to see her. Now. Andy goes back to the Bella Union and is a little cranky with Cy for having thrown out his belongings …and also for having been thrown out to die himself. I can see where he’d be a little testy about that. As bidden, Trixie goes to Al’s office – could he actually be more sarcastic? After some manhandling (nothing more than bruises, I’m sure) he sends her back to the hotel to spy on Alma and Bullock, warning her not to forget her place. Charlie stops by Nuttal’s saloon to ask the saloonkeeper about Bill’s murder. The cards Bill was allegedly holding were aces over eights, now and forever known as the “dead man’s hand.”

In the pest tent, that whippersnapper Joey has died and Jane cries a little to see it. Maybe that’s why her face is so clean: all the tears of late. The preacher reports to Jane and Doc that Bullock and Charlie are back, and then pitches into another one of his fits. This one is not so bad. The doctor sits him down and tells him that he’s got a brain lesion, and his current state of exhaustion is probably not helping things. The preacher hopes that his brain tumor might be the hand of God working through him; Doc says, well maybe, but go lie down anyway. Jane’s face is a study in sadness and sympathy. After her shift ends, Flora walks from the Bella Union to the Gem, trailed by one of her new johns who is extremely smitten with her. Dan greets her and finds her a table off to the side, away from the scuzzier clientele. At the hardware store, Sol brings Bullock up to speed on the camp happenings. Bullock struggles to speak about his battle with the Sioux warrior, clearly disturbed by the experience.

He is not, however, so shaken that he doesn’t to ask Al to recommend someone to assay the widow’s claim, so she gets a “fair shake.” This way, if the assayer’s work is in error, Bullock figures he will be able to hold Al accountable. The two square off against each other, no love lost, and Al pretty much tells Bullock that he’d better sleep with one eye open. Miles and Flora confer briefly and lo and behold, they are con artists, looking to score on both saloons. One of the drunks makes a move on Flora and Dan kills him. Al gives a big old eye roll and shakes his head at the folly of young lust. Out at the graveyard, Jane is talking to Bill’s grave when Charlie tentatively approaches her. He asks her if Bill was dead by the time she saw him, and then asks why Bill would have let McCall get to him. Jane has no answers and grouches that he’s interrupting her giving Bill the news. She lets him talk until he starts to cry, and then Charlie asks if he can talk to Bill some more tomorrow. “Sure, what the fuck you askin me for? I don’t make the rules.” Jane totally makes me laugh. Trixie tells Alma that she has to go back to Al, that Al has seen through their deception. She recommends that Alma sell and get the hell out of Deadwood – to screw Bullock if that’s what she wants, but to get out and go home. Alma is shocked, but it’s is not clear whether it's at the tone Trixie takes with her or at what is being said. I knew she wanted to jump Bullock’s bones and Trixie knows it too!

Next episode/previous episode

Deadwood – “Plague” (S1E6)

The dropping: Bullock is momentarily distracted from his quest to bring Wild Bill’s murderer to justice by a bad-ass Sioux warrior; he regains his focus after shedding some blood. Charlie proves he can read horse graffiti. Ellsworth learns to play craps – which will be yet another drain on his gold claim. Alma, Jane, Trixie and Sophia form the very first girl-group, paving the way for the Supremes, Josie and the Pussycats and the Spice Girls. On the testosterone side of things, Al brings the erstwhile camp leaders together to combat the smallpox threat. Plus there’s fruit.

High in the Hills, near a Native American burial ground, Bullock is attacked. His horse is killed and he is badly beaten. Fighting for his life, he finally knocks the Sioux warrior unconscious and then pulps the warrior’s head with a rock. It’s an ugly, violent and bloody fight – not your typical Hollywood fisticuffs at all. In camp, the doctor hustles through the Gem to examine a john who can’t get it up for one of Al’s whores. It’s that pesky smallpox epidemic Doc was so worried about. Over at the Bella Union, Joanie asks if Ellsworth (yay!) will keep her company. “I will, but I’m expensive,” quoth that worthy fellow. Joanie chuckles, “I knew that just lookin’ at you.” Ellsworth is a great character. Joey, the whippersnapper Cy sent off to Nebraska after the vaccine, returns to the saloon, sick as a smallpox-ridden dog. Cy tells him to keep his mouth shut and go lay up.

Al expresses his frustration that E.B. hasn’t pushed Alma into selling the gold claim. E.B. is reluctant, thinking “something strange is going on in that hotel room.” Doc stops by to tell Al that his saloon wasn’t the first place the pox showed up. Hmm, says Al. E.B. tries to gain admittance to Alma’s room but Trixie shuts him out. Alma is right full in the middle of detox-sickness and Trixie promises to take care of her, but first she has to go check in with her boss. Al and Doc storm Cy’s saloon demanding to know if Cy’s guy got the vaccine for the pox. As Doc treats Joey, Al and Cy decide to work together to put a spin on the epidemic.

Calamity Jane wanders back into town. She’s talking to herself but I can’t tell if she’s drunk or just being Jane. She goes into Doc’s cabin to wait for him. Al swoops back into his saloon and announces that there will be a get-together shortly – Dan and Johnny are to “buy some fruit.” Trixie is waiting for Al in his office: he asks if Alma is doping again (since E.B. didn’t think that the widow was taking the drugs); Trixie lies to him and says she thinks Alma is using but she can’t be sure. Al gives her another ball of dope, saying he wonders if Trixie is giving it to Alma at all. “Why wouldn’t I?” asks Trixie. “I’d rather try touching the moon than take on a whore’s thinking,” says he. Al tells E.B. to make sure that Trixie isn’t lying about doping the widow. Al and E.B. have this fantastic symbiotic relationship, 'though I'm not quite sure who is the parasite. Trixie goes back to Alma and tells her she has to fake being high in front of E.B. and Al.

Later, when Trixie takes some dirty sheets to the Chinese laundry, E.B. scoots up the stairs to check on Alma. Sol, in the meantime, chats Trixie up a bit on the street. He thinks she’s pretty – which she is. Doc gets back home and is startled to find Jane there, waiting for him. They are fantastic together: Jane is so funny and I really like the long-suffering doctor. Jane informs Doc that she found a smallpox victim in the woods; Doc wants to know how she feels. “I just lost my best friend!” she shouts. Doc points out that Jane has not contracted the pox; he enlists her to assist him in nursing the people who will be getting sick, telling her she can do her drinking “off work, like I do.” E.B. sneaks back into Alma’s room with clean linens and she puts on her sexy, vague, I’m-high face until he scurries back out, convinced.

Oh yay – it’s Charlie, on his way back to camp from Cheyenne! He comes across the Sioux’s painted-up horse, then Bullock’s dead horse, then the dead Sioux, and finally an almost dead Bullock. Charlie’ll make everything okay again. As he tends to Bullock, Charlie gives him him details about the “one bad hombre” Bullock managed to dispatch. Bullock then tells him that Bill is dead; Charlie says he’d heard tell of Bill’s death, but “often as he wasn’t before, I hoped he wasn’t again this time.” Charlie gets Bullock onto his feet. In Deadwood, Johnny comes by the preacher’s tent to invite him to Al’s get-together; the preacher is surprised by the inclusion, but agrees to come.

At the Gem, Dan, Johnny and Nuttal are opening cans of peaches and pears as E.B. reports that the widow is back on the dope for sure, all sexy-like. The get-together commences: Al, E.B., Cy, Doc, the preacher, Nuttal, Merrick and Sol – all the power-players in camp. They decide to (1) build a hospital tent to tend to the sick, (2) send riders to fetch vaccine and (3) write an article in the paper to keep the general populace informed and calm. Suddenly, the preacher pitches another fit. The assembled group – all of them! - is surprisingly empathetic and kindly towards the afflicted man. Later Doc speaks with the preacher privately; all the preacher wants is to be cleared to assist with the smallpox victims.

There’s some small trouble at the Bella Union: Cy is not happy with Joanie’s attitude of late. He also confesses to feeling “some fuckin’ affection” for her. Powers Booth’s head is HUGE! I’m completely distracted by it. At the printing press, Al, E.B., the doc and Cy are offering their editorial commentary (to Merrick’s dismay). It’s a pretty cute little scene. Jane goes to the hotel to check on Alma and Sophia; the little girl opens the door and says “hello, Jane” to her. Jane is floored; Trixie is very nice to her. This is a very curious group of females to be hanging out together. After taking her leave of the girls, Jane follows the latest stretcher to the “pest tent” where the preacher is already assisting Doc. Doc welcomes her. Bullock and Charlie place the Sioux warrior up on the burial platform and head off after Jack McCall. Al reads excerpts of the epidemic article to Dan, all the while bitching about Cy. He’s pretty satisfied with himself, however: “As a base of operations, you cannot beat a fucking saloon.”

Next episode/previous episode

Mouse Droppings

At the request of my husband, who has complained that these Deadwood recaps are too long, I’m going to try a new feature: mini-recaps, with one sentence per character. Kind of like haiku, if it was longer and about South Dakota in the late 1800s and had a lot more syllables. So, you know, nothing like haiku.

Deadwood – The young and pretty ex-Marshal Seth Bullock goes to start a life of hardware merchandising in the Black Hills but finds that leaves a life of law behind is more difficult than he thought. Wild Bill Hickok, when he is not drunk, hung over or playing poker, proves to be the quick-draw scourge of murderous road agents. Calamity Jane discovers that not only can she be a badass motherf%&*er, she can also be a mother. It is probably good advice to stay at home if you happen to be scrupulously clean, naïve and rich New York City tenderfeet or if you are a family of Norwegian farmers. And the master of the Deadwood Universe, Al Swearengen, manages to cover up a murder, beat a whore, rent a prime piece of real estate, swindle a dude out of $20,000, put a hit on a bald Irishman and pacify a potential posse with the offer of free booze and discounted sex … all within the confines of a forty-minute episode.

Dark Water – Al’s paranoia is readily apparent although he manages to keep his cool, waking a coma patient and stabbing a loose end through the heart. Not able to control his own fiery temper around Al, Bullock embarks upon a new career as semi-professional funeral-goer. Shooting a man who was about to shoot him seems to cure Wild Bill’s case of the grumpies, which were brought on by having his negative income pointed out. Jane further explores her care-giving potential but nearly self-destructs when face to face with the awesome fearsomeness that is Al Swearengen. Brom Garrett can’t handle the physicality of prospecting and decides that his best course of action is to threaten Al – because Brom is even dumber than he looks. Charlie proves he can hold his own when singing two-part harmony.

Reconnoitering the Rim – Wild Bill almost loses his famous revolvers in a poker game, naps in the hallway and shows the viewing audience that he has no idea how to hold a hammer. Bullock gets cranky with Sol and crankier with Jack McCall, but he finally gets to start building his store. Alma Garrett demonstrates that she has way more brains than her husband does – especially as he manages to get what little he has splattered all over the ground after getting tossed off a cliff. You can dress Al up but you can’t keep him from getting uptight about the fancy new game in town.

Here Was A Man – Bullock makes a new friend, makes me drool, promises to help a widow and then gets something in his eye. Alma is proving to be a much tougher (and savvier) nut to crack than her husband was. Al’s paranoia kicks into overdrive as he and Wild Bill attempt to play each other – luckily, Trixie is around to help relieve some of that stress. Typhoid Andy arrives in town. Wild Bill comes to the end of his days, leaving us all with this life lesson: never ever sit with your back to the door.

The Trial of Jack McCall – Alma, realizing that she maybe is not cut out to be a mom, asks for help and gets a nanny AND a sponsor. In some bizarre show of civic duty, Al allows the trial to be held at his saloon; he then makes up for such public service by pimping oral sex to the judge. Jane really begins to come into her own as a Wild West Florence Nightingale. Jack McCall is found innocent at the most absurd trial since Alice In Wonderland. Bullock glowers and snarls and rants and breathes heavily until Sol gives him his blessing to hunt down Wild Bill’s murderer. Oh – and Joanie gets a little girl-on-girl action, just so she doesn’t have to talk to her boss.

Deadwood – “The Trial of Jack McCall” (S1E5)

They’re changed the opening credits so there’s less of the horse. Wonder what that’s all about? Also, I find it simply incredible to realize that all this happened fewer than 150 years ago.

We open with Will Bill’s corpse in repose as folks file by to pay their respects and shoo off the flies. There are also two other queues of men: prospective jurors and potential officers of the court to be selected by lottery. Merrick the newspaperman is supervising things "‘til the shysters take over,” per Al. Over at the hotel, Jane has, in her grief over Bill’s death, seemingly abandoned little Sophia and Alma is a wee dite cranky about it. When she refuses Doc’s offer to refill her laudanum, he suggests that this might not be the best time to attempt to kick the habit. A seething Bullock is in line to see Bill; saloonkeeper Nuttal assures him that no money is being made by the display – too many people wanted to see the body. Cy and Al observe the goings-on from Al’s balcony. Jack's trial will take place in the Gem, loss of revenue to Al notwithstanding. Al thinks the “whole fucking trial concept” is about as good an idea as Custer’s last stand. He is not impressed with the "hoopleheads’" intelligence: “Sometime I wish we could just hit ‘em over the head, rob ‘em and throw ‘em in the creek.” Cy channels Faith-in-Buffy’s-body as he smirks, “But that would be wrong.”

At her drug-withdrawn wits’ end, Alma asks E.B. for assistance with the babysitting and he smarmily agrees to find someone to help her out. Bullock meets with Alma at the hotel and she signs her proxy over to him. I think Bullock thinks she’s pretty. E.B. hovers around on some flimsy pretext and then runs off to update Al. Cy tells Joanie that he wants Andy out of the Bella Union saloon and abandoned in the Hills to die. Joanie is disgusted at the thought, hopeful that Andy might get better. E.B. suggests to Al that Trixie stand in as Sophia’s nanny … and then perhaps multitask to get Alma rehooked on the dope. Al is impressed with E.B.’s conniving. The preacher corners Bullock to ask about Wild Bill’s funeral service. Again, Sol knows more about the hymns in question than does his Christian partner. The preacher is extra annoying today. Bullock soon has had enough and, when Sol asks if they are ready to open for business, Bullock stalks off down the street in slow motion and full glare mode. Where’s he going? Oh, off to beat on that schmuck Jack McCall a little bit. Jack’s lawyer shows up just in time to keep his client from being throttled. The counseling is impressive: the lawyer suggests that Jack killed Bill out of vengeance for the murder of Jack’s fictional brother in Abilene. Jack, weasel that he is, catches on quickly.

The Bella Union henchman drags a moaning and delirious Andy out to the Hills and leaves him there. Al sends Trixie over to Alma and “the orphan squarehead kid.” Doc stops by the Bella Union to check on Andy but Cy tells him to never mind – Andy checked out. Flustered, Doc is fairly explicit in admitting that he has no smallpox vaccine and that someone should fetch a vaccine and quick, before the epidemic spreads. Cy considers a moment, and sends some young whippersnapper off for the medicine. Al tells Johnny to hide the decapitated Sioux head until after the trial. I don’t really understand why he wants to keep it, although Johnny mentions that it does make a good conversation piece. Excellent point, Johnny. E.B. is trying to scrub blood off a hotel room floor and keeps himself company by ranting about how Al misuses him. His speech definitely has stage-play soliloquy-like qualities. And whose blood is that – Tim Driscoll’s? Hasn't he cleaned that up yet?

The trial begins. This is the most ridiculous trial I’ve ever seen. As Al gives the play by play from his balcony, the prosecution speaks for about two minutes; Jack flat-out lies about his murdered - ahem - brother; then, just as the prosecution is hitting its stride and confusing Jack with some questions, they “break for nature” (at Al’s suggestion). Meanwhile, Trixie pops over to the hotel and immediately takes little Sophia in hand. Alma is looking peaked but also grateful; she admits to Trixie that she’s trying to kick her laudanum habit. Trixie is sympathetic and I don't think she's playing Alma. The judge and Al conference: “Do you want a blow job while I talk to you?” asks Al. Um … “No,” says the judge uncomfortably. Al smiles tightly: “I wasn’t offering to do it personally.” Hee. Al explains his concerns about the government descending upon Deadwood. The judge wants to get back to the trial. Dan gives Al the good news that one of the jurors mentioned to him that Wild Bill needed killing. That bodes well for old Jack. The judge speaks to the jury: law will have nothing to do with the jurors’ decisions today – if they believe Jack was avenging his brother, custom demands they find him not guilty.

Jane, drunk and wandering in the Hills, comes across Andy. He keeps saying “I apologize” which pisses her off. It’s funny - and then I feel badly about laughing when he’s so sick. Bullock, Sol, the preacher and Nuttal put Wild Bill in his coffin. Trixie goes to see Doc for help in getting Alma off the laudanum and he gives her some herbs that will hopefully make the detox a little easier. At the Gem, the jury comes back with “Innocent.” Al looks satisfied with the outcome and all of a sudden Jack finds himself to be a celebrity. The preacher is on fire at Wild Bill’s funeral; I have no idea what he’s going on about, although I suppose I probably qualify as a godless heathen so I can't be expected to understand. The assembled sing “How Firm a Foundation” as Bill is buried. Jane watches from a distance. Merrick whispers to Bullock that the jury turned Jack McCall loose and somehow Bullock manages to keep his composure while shoveling dirt onto Bill's coffin.

Joanie, who was attending the funeral, returns to the Bella Union without saying a word to Cy. Bullock and Sol walk back to camp with the preacher, who continues to ramble until Bullock snaps at him. Finally - thank you! Al comes up to Jack in the Gem and tells him that there’s a horse waiting for him outside, and that Jack should run for his fucking life before someone in camp, possibly Al himself, decides to murder him. “Jack McCall runs from no man,” mumbles Jack as he stumbles out to the horse. Al raises an eyebrow at Dan, advising him that allowing that kind of person to hang around tends to get folk riled up. Al prefers everyone drunk, happy and spending their money. Bullock watches, panting, as Jack rides by on his way out of town; Sol watches Bullock.

Jane comes back with water for Andy who, amazingly, is not dead yet. She sits beside him, keeping him company. Back at camp, the preacher is having convulsions in his tent. People walk right by him without noticing. At the hardware store, Bullock is still snarling and ranting about the crazy preacher. Sol is calm in the face of his friend’s anguish and rage. Apparently Bullock has decided to go after Jack: “If I kill the droop-eyed sonofabitch and my part is getting hanged for it, good luck with the fucking store.” Sol promises to look after the widow, and also packs a bag for Bullock to narrow the lead Jack has. Cy pokes his head into the Bella Union whores’ washroom where Joanie is helping the girls bathe. She does not want to talk with him, however, and starts pointedly making out with one of the whores to make him go away. In a dialogue-free montage, Jane is still ministering to Andy out in the woods; Trixie stirs her herbs into a cup of tea for Alma; and a worried Sol bids his friend farewell.

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