A+E

The judges for the recent New York Times survey of the best American fiction from the past 25 years (
www.nytimes.com/books) are as eminent a group as you'll ever see: They should be at the vanguard of originality and imagination—why, then, are the titles they selected so predictable and conformist?

There's no reason to begrudge the winning authors, whether or not you like their books. And even the egregious omissions (to me: McMurtry's Lonesome Dove and Powers' The Gold Bug Variations) don't compromise the project. But the books on this list are so boringly safe, so pre-approved, that it seems like a vast demonstration of groupthink. Half of Updike's Rabbit novels were already canonized before 1980. The top selection, Toni Morrison's Beloved, as critic Stephen Metcalf put it on Slate.com, is "homework." Every single judge knows that 50 percent of Underworld is unreadable—yet it was a famous literary comet and is therefore acceptable. Few ranked The Plot Against America as the best novel of 2004, but it is "Roth" and "politics," so now it gets on. And I doubt the deserving Housekeeping would be there if Marilynne Robinson had not just won the Pulitzer.

Maybe this conformity is the inevitable result of large surveys, but the list seems to reflect a panel afraid to like things that some authority hasn't already deemed worthy—afraid, in short, to think for themselves. But isn't learning to think for ourselves why we turn to books in the first place?

1.) That you must read "The School," an article in the June Esquire about a deadly 2004 siege at a Russian school overtaken by Chechan terrorists. (Hundreds died in the botched rescue attempt.) It's 18,000 words long, yet the piece, by writer C.J. Chivers, speeds along, a gripping account of death and heroism. Read it now, because Ron Howard's partner has bought the film rights, which means the next crack you'll have at this story will be as a plodding, morally instructive blockbuster.

2.) That America has exceeded its capacity for fast-food ciabatta creations.

3.) That spectacle-driven, "epic" comic books—in which whole universes of characters tangle—indicate an industry in creative decline. It's hoping you won't notice that the blockbuster techniques mask an inability to introduce popular new characters or storylines. Yet another triumph of Ron Howard-ism.

2 Sense


The Streets Ain't Ready (3.5 stars)

Good thing Sheriff Young's anti-gangsta-rap crusade hasn't stopped 2 Sense from doing its thing. Not the first to rhyme about ghetto life, pimpin', crime, reppin' the 'hood, sucker emcees, dudes that act like bitches and how they're about to blow up like an improvised explosive device, they simply do it better than most local cats. Much dap for the saucy beats and attention to lyrics—reality rap doesn't have to be dumbed down. This is certainly music to drive by. But not that type of drive by, Sheriff Young.

Duma (PG) (5 stars)


$19.98

If any movie deserves a second chance in DVD, it's Carroll Ballard's near-perfect coming-of-age adventure, Duma. Filmed in South Africa, it tells the story of 12-year-old Xan and his nearly domesticated cheetah, Duma, both of whom must learn to find their way in the big, bad world after the death of the boy's father (Campbell Scott). Before he died, the gentle farmer planned to take Xan and Duma to the place where the baby cheetah was found, so that the magnificent animal could be reintroduced into the wilderness. In honoring his father's wish, however, the headstrong lad forgot that motorcycles eventually run out of gas ... and, in the most inconvenient of locales. Boy and beast soon find themselves in desperate need of food, water, mommy (Hope Davis) and a GPS navigation system. Xan is forced to trust a shady ex-con, who, he fears, could turn on them at any time. The trio's journey "home" takes them through some fiercely harsh and supremely beautiful territory, all of which is captured brilliantly by Ballard and cinematographer Werner Maritz. Yes, Duma is a family film, but in the best possible sense. Instead of marketing the hell out of this gorgeous and often very exciting picture, Warner Bros. treated it as if it were a breakfast cereal in need of a consensus on the box art. Anyone who's recently invested in a giant wide-screen, hi-res TV ought to use Duma as a test of its technical worthiness.