There is almost always something in The Boston Sunday Globe that irks me. Usually, it is to be found in The Globe Magazine, which is terribly Boston-centric and apologetically upscale. I say apologetically because every now and again it makes an attempt at being budget-conscious in its offerings and shopping guides, which makes me roll my eyes. If you’re going to be upscale, embrace it and move on. Even though I’ll probably never be able to afford a million-dollar renovation on a house, it is nice to see one in pictures, because that’s probably as close as I’ll ever come. As a subscriber to Vogue, I am more than comfortable with the thought of an aspirational publication and never feel as though I’m being talked down to, which can happen with the Globe.
I do not mean to single out the Globe. The London Sunday Times appears to have a mandate that no issue can be published without at least one anti-American statement. At least their lifestyle magazine is a better read, and does not, to the best of my knowledge, have a “Coupling” section where people discuss the intimate details of their relationships. These essays always make me wonder how the author’s friends and family feel about knowing the little intimate details of their lives. It is akin to having a Brahmin version of the Kardashian family on display.
There I was a couple of Sundays ago with an unexpected free hour on my hands because my son decided to become a marathon napper. I sat down with the paper and reached the Ideas section. There was an interview with Mindy Kaling, a Massachusetts native who is a writer for The Office and has recently published a book. Miss Kaling is one of my favorite on-line personalities, and I read her book with great interest. Perhaps my standards are too high, but I thought that this was a rather quick effort. She, and Tina Fey for that matter, is more than capable of writing something with a bit more heft to it. Anyway, one thing that really got me to thinking was that she said that she has never laughed out loud while reading.
Initially, I did not think much about this comment and focused my attention on the offerings of the Globe North section. The next day, I was reading the story of Jeeves first coming into Bertie Wooster’s life and found myself laughing out loud (see, there is indeed a Wodehouse connection). When I stopped to consider the comment, I found that I do laugh frequently when I read, probably to the consternation of my fellow commuter rail passengers as that is when I do most of my reading. Some passages in David Sedaris have almost had me weeping, as well as some bits in the Series of Unfortunate Events (the earlier books are brilliant pieces of satire). Am I alone in this? Is there perhaps something wrong with me? All I do know is that I feel sorry for Miss Kaling. Most of these laughs have really been good for me, a spiritual palate cleanser.
The second thing that annoyed me was, inevitably, this week’s Coupling essay. Please don’t ask me why I persist in reading something that fills me with bile ninety percent of the time. This week’s offering was by a man who is a writer and married to another writer. The couple both work from home and have small children. Basically, the essay was an attempt by the man to assuage the lingering feelings of guilt he had for letting his wife assume most of the child care, at the expense of her writing career. He justified the decision by stating that he earns more than his wife. Well, he would, wouldn’t he, as he can write and publish and she is relegated to writing at night. I don‘t know about her, but the last thing I want to do after putting my cherub to bed is to pullout the laptop. Most nights, my mind is dribbling out of my ear and it is all I can do to take up my crochet needle. He harped on the fact that she was a novelist, as if that entire group was doomed to poverty. Somehow, I don’t think we’re going to see Stephen King or Nora Roberts in the bread line anytime soon, although I do realize that not all novelists are rolling in the proverbial hay. My largest complaint was that I felt that this man was trying to make me absolve him from guilt, and I am not about to let him off the hook. Let that be a lesson to you, Coupling authors. Don’t try to use your audience to settle a score in your marriage.
The third thing? Devra First spoke poorly about Turkish Delight, saying that it was disappointing. I don’t know what Turkish Delight Ms. First has been eating, but it certainly leaves a sweeter taste in my mouth than many of the things she has praised to the skies. It is one of my most favorite things in the world, and my dear English chum always brings me some when she visits. In fact, I have a box waiting for me in my pantry that I suspect I am reserving for Valentine’s Day when I shall be in need of a pick-me-up. I admit that I almost attacked it to assuage the disgruntlement I felt about the Globe, but my son woke up and demanded my attention. I only thought about the paper one more time that day, which was when I was placing it in the recycling bag with more glee than usual.
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