Claudia and the Genius of Elm Street Part 3
In which the plot concludes in spite of itself, and Lerangis's best attempts at incoherence.
Chapter 11
Claudia yells good-bye to her mother and Janine as the Wilders pick her up for. . .Uncle Dandy’s Star Machine! Italics and exclamation point (sic). Claudia is super-excited and happy for Rosie, plus she gets to see a TV station. Also, she feels special that Rosie invited her. “As impossible as it seemed, Rosie and I were becoming friends. Since I had found out about her hidden artistic talent, she had really loosened up.”
Meh. This is probably another volume out of my magazine rack of issues, but I have a visceral dislike of the phrase “loosen up.” Mostly because in my experience, it means “stop caring so much about this thing that’s important to you, because I don’t think it’s important/interesting/age-appropriate” and sometimes is the equivalent of screaming “RELAX! WHY CAN’T YOU JUST RELAX.” In terms of the story, though, it bugs me that this is still being treated primarily as a personality flaw on Rosie’s part and not a coping mechanism for living with her horrid parents. Speaking of whom, Claudia just can’t really imagine why on earth Rosie is hiding her artistic talent. I’m begging of you girls, put some of your leet mystery-solving skills to work to the extent of a basic A to B conclusion.
Instead, Claudia is embracing denial, since all the Wilders seem to be in good spirits. Mrs. Wilder nags Rosie to ask if she has everything, including her tap shoes, and Rosie points out she’s not dancing, just singing and playing piano. Ginger says it’s always good to be prepared, in case one of the other little dancers should. . .just. . .happen. . .to fall.
Mr. Wilder calls her a stage mother and she replies “You should talk, George.” Sorry, Wilders, that doesn’t count as self-awareness.
“Mea culpa,” he replies and Rosie smiles “as if she knew what that meant.” Well, she probably did, Claudia-if your parents use Latin expressions, you pick them up, the way kids pick up all language. Janine later defines it as “I’m guilty” and I think I may have actually learned that from this book, so I can’t say the BSC gave me nothing besides a bookshelf of pastel neuroses! Also, in my head canon, Claudia just randomly walks up to Janine with no preamble and asks her these things and Janine responds on autopilot.
The car ride--studio is in Hartford, which Google, less adorable than Janine,tells me is about 90 minutes from Stamford, and they’re leaving at 4:30 in the afternoon, so enjoy that rush hour for an. . .eight o’clock taping? Why do I bother applying logic? Anyway, car ride is fun as they play “Guess the License Plate” (?) and the Wilders sing in harmony.
Claudia announces that the TV station was in a “dull area” filled with brick buildings and parking lots, and the TV station just looked like a building except it had an antenna on top. Okay? I’m not really sure what she was expecting? She fusses a little more that the waiting room has a worn linoleum floor and a water cooler. “Not exactly glamorous.”
I don’t know, my uncle worked for an NBC affiliate, so I’d been to the station a few times (I think once I interviewed one of the meteorologists for a Girl Scout badge), so maybe I can’t relate that much to expecting a TV station in Hartford to look like. . .I don’t know, Universal Studios.
A receptionist with a beehive hairdo points them to Studio 4, and on the way they pass some local newscasters roaming about (Claudia is like “they look so much older than on TV!”) and the set of a game show she “used to watch when I was a kid.” No comment.
Claudia wishes Stacey or Kristy were there to squee with her. (Burn on Mary Anne, I guess-maybe Richard only let her watch PBS?) Rosie doesn’t seem fazed at all, she’s just humming her song and following her parents. Claudia tells her “You are so calm!” and Rosie says this is nothing compared to studios she’s been in in New York. And see, a couple of chapters ago I’m pretty sure that exact turn of phrase would have been considered rude and conceited and not just matter-of-fact.
The studio is filled with people talking on headsets, cameras, cables, etc. Someone is doing Uncle Dandy’s makeup in the corner, because not even having a tiny dressing area screams professional. The stage is bare except for a grand piano and neon lights saying “Uncle Dandy’s Star Machine,” with “a few rows of folding chairs” for the studio audience.
Another little girl comes up and asks Rosie what her talent is, and Rosie gives the minimal answer. Little girl starts to talk about her dance routine when her mother reminds her to introduce herself. Rosie introduces herself with a tight smile and a general back-off demeanor, and Crystal and her parents take the hint and retreat. Claudia says Crystal seemed pretty nice and Rosie says, “It’s important not to make small talk on the set. That kind of thing can destroy your concentration, especially before a performance. Ginger pats her on the shoulder and says “That’s right, dear,” and again, no wonder Rosie is so awkward.
Claudia deems this “a little weird.” Man, all the times the girls are Judgy McJudgersons, and it’s never about the really awful parents. Claudia, I’m BEGGING you to judge the Wilders.
Uncle Dandy barks at the crew and is all sugary to the kids as they get set to tape. He gives them a pep talk, beginning with a “goony” smile and then turning serious. “Boys and girls, this is a super-duper big day. It’s our premiere show! Believe me, I know how you must feel. All these lights and cameras, everyone in Central and parts of Southern Connecticut watching. . .but I want you to know Uncle Dandy is behind you one hundred and a half percent. I want you to all have the bestest, funnest, Uncle Dandiest time! Remember, we’re one big, happy family!”
Gross. I know I already picture him as Matt Foley, living in a van down by the river, but as soon as he said “Boys and Girls,” I heard “hey hey!” like another fine example for children.
Also, considering the work Rosie’s already done, this is embarrassingly amateurish.
Uncle Dandy is all sweaty and darting eyes, which just adds to the ick factor. Who is this dude? Who is producing this show? Who seriously thinks “everyone” in the state is going to watch this crappy mess of random kid talents? On a Thursday evening in 1991, you could be watching The Cosby Show, Cheers, Beverly Hill 90210 (original flavor!) or the some of the best early Simpsons. (Thanks, Wikipedia!) He announces the order of the talents and Rosie is last, which Mr. Wilder claims is because she’s the best. Ms. Yu, the agent, wanders in as the spotlights are going up.
Loud, “tinny-sounding” music plays Uncle Dandy on stage, and he runs out and almost falls over. I’m cringing in second-hand embarrassment from here. He points up at the sign, but two letters are burnt out, so it reads “Uncle Andy’s Tar Machine.” For some reason, I found this HILARIOUS as a child, as I did the poor production assistant who has to hold up the sign saying “WILD APPLAUSE.”
Uncle Dandy bounces to the music as he introduces the show, untucking his shirt and dislodging his toupee in the process, and it all sounds so awkward and uncomfortable I would have turned the channel, if I hadn’t already.
Finally he gets himself off the stage, and a little girl dances to rock music
followed by a ventriloquist, a ballerina, some singers, a tap dancer (about whom Ginger whispers to George “She’s no Rosie,” like, considering how tiny this is, her parents can probably HEAR YOU, ASSHOLE. I wonder if it was Crystal) and a kid who juggles. I kind of love the ventriloquist kid, although I wonder if the gears in what passes for brains in the Wilder parents’ heads started spinning at the realization of a NEW act to inflict on their daughter.
Also, kids and ventriloquists gives me a pleasant flashback to the S1 episode “The Puppet Show,” of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. By objective standards it’s not a great episode, but it introduces Principal Snyder, forces Giles out of the library for great lulz, has an amazing closer with the Buffy and the Scoobies performing from Oedipus Rex, and is one of the first, if not the first time, Buffy says something “gives her the wig.”
Willow: "I think dummies are cute. You don't?"
Buffy: "They give me the wig. Ever since I was little."
Willow: "What happened?"
Buffy: "I saw a dummy. It gave me the wig. There really wasn't a story there."
Nor here, apparently. Anyway, finally it’s Rosie’s turn, and she rocks it with a classical piece and a “slow ballad from a Broadway show.” I love how Ann and Lerangis include details like the paint color in Rosie’s room, but not ones that might help us actually visualize a supposedly significant scene. So here's a kitty rockin' the Sondheim as Cinderella from Into the Woods.
Claudia is first nervous and then super-proud of Rosie.
Uncle Dandy wraps things up (er, he wraps the SHOW up) and Rosie and the other performers come from backstage. “There were hugs and kisses all over the place. I practically smothered Rosie.” Rosie smiles and thanks her, and the way it’s written, I can’t actually tell if her parents hug her or not, although Mrs. Wilder says she was wonderful. “As always.”
Eventually a “handsome, tanned man with moussed hair” comes up and introduces himself as head of the Mendez Teen n’ Tiny Talent Agency and asks if Rosie is represented. Rosie starts to say yes, but her parents cut her off. Mr. and Mrs. Wilder ask questions which make them sound both pushy and kind of dumb. “Oh, you have an office in New York?”
Mendez sashays away and Rosie protests that she likes Ms. Yu, and Mr. Wilder is all “This could be an excellent career move, and heh heh, contracts are made to be broken!”
Finally they pile back in the car, and the Wilder parents debate the pros and cons of Mendez Teen n’ Tiny (is it just me, or is that name a little sketchy?) and since all they’ve learned is that he exists, has an office in NYC and claims to have contacts with “all the major movie studios,” I don’t know what material they actually have to debate.
In the backseat, Claudia tells Rosie she was so good Claudia nearly cried, and Rosie says it was no big deal, you rehearse and you do it.
“I was amazed. She didn’t seem to want to talk about the show at all. It was as if she had just finished some semi-interesting chore and wanted to move on to the next thing.” Claudia, I’m BEGGING you to pick up a clue here.
Rosie is more interested in ice cream, as she begs her parents to stop for a treat and says she’s starving.
And you know, since they left Stoneybrook at 4:30 and there’s been no mention of feeding her dinner, she probably is. Anyway, Mrs. Wilder says no, because it’s late and she has a rehearsal with her voice and tap teachers in the morning for her dinner theater rehearsal. It’s also a Thursday, so does that mean Rosie has to do one of those awful sweat-drenching, voice-hoarsing lessons before a full day of school, or does Mrs. Wilder keep her home from school for lessons? Or do the copy-editors at Scholastic come to work drunk?
Anyway, Rosie pretty much has a screaming meltdown, and Mrs. Wilder tells her she needs sleep if she wants to keep her voice in shape, and Rosie, predictably, retorts she doesn’t care about her voice or dancing or the audition. Mr. Wilder tells her she’s a performer and performers have to have discipline. I’m amazed they don’t also tell her she can’t have ice cream because she’ll get fat while they’re at it.
“That’s not what I am!” Rosie was shrieking now. “I’m a kid! I just want to get ice cream like a normal kid!”
The Wilders have nothing to say to this and drive on in silence, while Rosie curls up in a miserable ball, and pulls away when Claudia tries to soothe her, so Claudia spends an uncomfortable ride home in silence.
There’s a part of me getting a little sassy when I note that the first time Claudia feels “so sad” for Rosie is when she’s denied ice cream. (And when Rosie basically explicitly lays out the heart of the book, so thanks, Rosie, since the BSC were clearly NEVER going to puzzle this out on their own.) But I’m sad for Rosie, too.
Chapter 12
Mary Anne notebook entry about watching Rosie at the crossword competition. Mary Anne says she was curious to meet Rosie, but Claudia claims she had to drag her there. Oh, MA, are you turning Kristy’s notebook into a book of LIES?
Anyway, the Wilders can’t go to the contest because Mrs. Wilder’s mother has to be taken to the hospital. This is another contrivance thing I don’t get-when I was seven, I’d have been really upset my grandmother was sick! But they use stuff like this as an excuse for sitting jobs all the time and it never even registers. Well, except when Stacey and the Johanssens treat Charlotte like crap when her grandfather is sick and she dares to have anxiety about it. Anyway, Claudia says Stacey told her how the other kids treated Rosie at school, so Claudia wants to go and support her. Except when Stacey saw that, they were still treating Rosie as a “monster” who antagonized the other kids and deserved what she got.
The competition is at SES after school, and apparently the kids of the Brook have nothing better to do than hang around watching other kids do crossword puzzles. For the record, we bump into a bunch of BSC charges, who will conveniently disappear into the ether for what comes next.
Rosie runs up to Claudia and says she’s glad Claudia came, and meets Mary Anne. Then Rosie says she’s going to wait in the back to “stay focused.” Mary Anne and Claudia snark this a bit. “That’s Rosie. Seven going on twenty-five.” Even when a group of girls walk by saying things like “Ew! The brain!” and “She’s not talking to us, she only talks to Uncle Dandy,” they don’t make the connection that some of Rosie’s parroted “seriousness” is clearly a defense mechanism to deal with her discomfort around other kids.
The principal opens the festivities by introducing the winner from each grade. The fifth and fourth graders are part of that mysterious, non-BSC-watched sector of Stoneybrook. People cheer for Nicole and Joseph, and then when Rosie is introduced, they boo and hiss and giggle. Ms. Reynolds says “If you have a negative opinion, you are advised to keep it to yourself,” which is. . .probably not the aspect I would have seized on, but considering how generally crappy Stoneybrook teachers seem to be at responding to bullying and maintaining discipline, I guess she gets a half point? But that just allows the girls to whisper and snicker as Rosie walks by. She doesn’t even turn her head.
Because Rosie is the shortest, she constantly has to climb on and off a step stool to reach the top of her puzzle, which these obnoxious kids find hilarious. “It’s a jumping bean.” A teacher comes by and shushes them, but since this is after school, I don’t know why she doesn’t just kick them out.
We see some of the clues, and they are much more plausible than the New York Times puzzles Rosie was tackling before.
But there are some Mary Anne and Claudia don’t know, like a five letter “small, furry marsupial” and “The author of ‘The Owl and the Pussycat-Edward Blank.” Claudia guesses Edward Allan Poe, and Mary Anne corrects her without getting her head ripped off.
More obnoxious laughter-Rosie has filled in letters leaving a clue that reads S_OT and the clue is “an opening.” (Helpfully, Scholastic provided a visual aid.) Claudia tells us that the boys were picturing a “N,” and weirdly, that would not even have occurred to me as a child (I mean, reading the book without Claud spelling it out, although probably in real life, too.) Some boy yells out “Here’s a hint-yourself,” and Ms. Reynolds, stepping over the one-inch high bar set for Stoneybrook educators, marches him out of the auditorium. When Rosie fills in the “L” for SLOT, some other kid makes a bzzzz!wrong noise.
“Kids can be really cruel, but I think it’s worse in a group situation. You know how it is, one person starts and everyone has to copy. Mary Anne and I were so angry, but there was nothing we could do.” Again, this is one of those weird gaps between the BSC as actual thirteen-year-olds, and the BSC as they usually are depicted, as absolute authority figures. Conveniently, none of the BSC charges are mentioned as participating or reacting to all this. But you’d think such AWESOME sitters who know “tons of the kids” there could maybe flex some sitter muscle.
Anyway, Rosie is the first to finish, and is greeted by groans and a few cheers. Claudia says it must be just because some of the third graders were happy to see their grade win, which is still kind of sad, that they’re applauding in spite of Rosie, not for her. The teachers check the puzzles and Rosie is declared the winner. Claudia and Mary Anne jump up and cheer. “We didn’t care what the other kids thought.” So all of a sudden elementary school students are your peers? That explains a lot. Ms. Reynolds gives Rosie her trophy and Rosie “slunk” off the stage. Claudia and Mary Anne congratulate her, but she just wants to go home.
As they walk, Rosie asks “Why do they do that? They always treat me like that. I don’t know why. I never do anything bad to them. I just try to do my best, that’s all. And they gang up on me and tease me and call me names. I mean, even the third-graders didn’t cheer for me.” She starts to cry. Sniff.
Claudia tells Rosie it’s hard being different, and people have “a hard time understanding [her].” Mary Anne says “Look at the problems Claudia has,” because yes, let’s force this stupid comparison harder. Rosie says “C-Claudia? But you’re so popular!” and how the hell does Rosie even know that? Man, this book is lazy.
Claudia says in her family she’s the only one who isn’t “a brain,” and says she loves Janine, but can you imagine growing up with her? (Yes?) She says in her family she feels like a freak, and I’m sympathetic to this, but it doesn’t really seem all that relevant here.
Rosie asks how come the Kishis didn’t realize what a brilliant artist Claudia is, and she says they do, sort of, now. “But I’m thirteen. It’s taken a long time.” No comment.
Well, okay, yes, actually a comment. I can see how Claudia feels unappreciated in her family, but the idea that her parents don’t support her in her art kind of bugs me, considering all the expensive classes she takes and supplies she uses. I know she buys some of them, but the BSC slave wages are NOT covering that much. They’ve let her use their basement and their garage for her projects, too. Wanting her to do her homework and accept tutoring/resource help is just not the work of art-hating ogres.
And speaking of ogres, sorry, I’m going on a tangent train.
I’ve mentioned being a fairy tale geek before, and this made me think of something the Queen of Fairy Tale Geeks, Maria Tatar, wrote about the Perrault fairy tales. In the original, those stories all ended with a passage, often in rhymed couplets, allegedly laying out the moral of the story. I say allegedly because as Maria Tatar points out, half the time Perrault just starts riffing on random crap. The example she highlights is Peau d’Ane, or Donkeyskin, which is not very well known today because it’s blatantly and overtly (not metaphorically) about the threat of father/daughter incest, and it’s hard to make a cute Disney flick with a singing flounder or candelabra to go along with a princess who has to flee her home and work as a kitchen drudge to stop her father from raping her. Anyway, the moral Perrault provides is “Evidently, the moral of this tale implies it is better for a child to expose oneself to hardships than to neglect one’s duty. . . Finally this story shows that pure water and brown bread are enough nourishment for young women, so long as they have beautiful clothes, and that there is no woman on earth who does not believe that she is beautiful.”
As Madame Tatar snarkily understates “What we have here can hardly be described as a clear sense of the moral drift of the tale.”
This super-long tangent was my warm-up to saying that I seriously have no idea what the “moral drift” of the tale is here. Because based on this passage, Claudia was just another person like the girls in her class who snub Rosie because she’s different. But a fair bit of this book is also arguing that Rosie is, in some very real ways, socially awkward and uncomfortable with her peers in ways that come off as rude and sometimes hurtful. Granted, from my point of view, only a fraction of her comments are actually obnoxious, but I find it. . .odd that the book essentially “fixes” or “solves” Rosie by arranging things so that Claudia (and Mary Anne) like her. Especially since Claudia only “likes” her after Rosie has expressed her extra-special Mary Sue leet drawing skills, which seems a very mixed message for this book INDEED. Gee, it’s lucky Rosie could draw, so she had a way to earn back Claudia’s love!
wee!alula, why DID you like this book so much? Was “Disposable Comestibles” enough to win you over?
(It also seems. . .odd to me that at the end of Jessi and the Superbrat, when they find out that (spoiler!) Derek was the one tying people's shoes together and throwing their stuff out the window it's all just hilarious, whereas Rosie's bluntness was of TEH DEVIL. But I find Derek mostly boring and occasionally irritating, so it's possible I'm reaching.)
Again, Lerangis doesn’t bother to write an actual important conversation, just that they talked “all the way home.” Mary Anne says to Rosie, “I barely know you, Rosie, but I think you’re very special, even aside from all your talents,” and Rosie beams. And on the one hand, okay, aww Mary Anne, for once your sensitivity more or less kicked in at the right time for you to say something Rosie badly needs to hear. On the other, how sad is it that Rosie has to get the “You’re special, just the way you are,” affirmation from someone she’s known for a single hour?
Anyway, instead of that conversation, Lerangis has seen fit to inform us that today Mrs. Wilder left potato salad for them. Rosie has a voice lesson at 5:30, but instead of preparing, she wants to draw, so they unpack their sketches and supplies. Claudia helps her with some shading and contouring on her drawing of a Lifesaver. When Rosie starts sketching the outline of a Doritos bag, however, it looks like a dog, and they both start barking and howling and sniffing, so of course that’s when the Wilder parents walk in. “They were standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at us as if we’d lost our minds.” Cliffhanger!
Chapter 13
No, not really. The Wilders are not amused. Mrs. Wilder asks if Ms. Van Cott (voice teacher) cancelled, and Rosie hangs her head and admits that she hadn’t, so the Wilders begin nagging her about voice practice and a math project. Rosie attempts to divert them by showing off her crossword competition trophy, which is shiny enough (literally!) to temporarily distract Mr. Wilder. Rosie’s face brightens as she hands over the trophy and her parents congratulate her, which is a nice, almost subtle detail-even though Rosie is frustrated and overscheduled, she still does crave the praise and affection she (maybe only gets) for winning.
(For a much better look at a stage mom and her reluctant daughter-and how friends help the daughter to negotiate space for her to both be a kid and to follow her real passion-I’m going to plug Plastic Angel by Nerissa Nields, and the “This Town is Wrong” companion/soundtrack. Because Nerissa Nields is awesome and funny and super-nice and an actual feminist and omg I love her so much.)
Click to viewThe Wilder parents continue to be horrible and scold Rosie for drawing, because she has “better things to do with [her] time” and they aren’t “spending our hard-earned money on you career just so you can fritter away your time-“ and God, they are awful. Rosie shouts that she’s not frittering and she doesn’t want to practice, and Mr. Wilder says “Let’s not have a replay of the night we came back from the Uncle Dandy show.” And honestly, if that’s the definitive tantrum Rosie’s ever had, she has way more patience than I do.
Rosie says she hates Uncle Dandy and if he asks her back for another show, she won’t do it. Mr. Wilder says he knows she was in “another league” from the other talents, but the show “served its purpose.” “Now it’s over. But that doesn’t mean we can let up. Life goes on. There’s your audition, your commercial booking next week-“
Rosie bangs on the table and screams that she doesn’t care about the musical or going for another booking in New York. “I hate my life! I never have any fun except when Claudia comes over! All I do is work, work, work. And I’m not going to do it anymore!” and she stomps up to her bedroom and slams the door. Mr. Wilder orders her to come back and Mrs. Wilder says to give her a few minutes.
“Rosie’s parents looked a little shaky. I gathered Rosie didn’t act like that too often.”
Claudia, watching all this said she wanted to die, and that the Wilders must think she had taken their prize-winning performing seal little girl and created a monster. She thinks about just slipping out the back door but then decides not to, as she’s done nothing wrong.
Claudia and the Wilders stare at each other for a few more awkward moments. Then Claudia says she’s done a lot of baby-sitting, and she’s never met anyone as “gifted” as Rosie. Somewhere Myriah and Gabbie are each dropping a single perfect tear. Claudia thinks flattering the Wilders about Rosie will soften them up, and this is the second time in this book they’ve talked about flattery as if they aren’t giving perfectly true compliments or natural interest. Anyway, the Wilders already know Rosie is their little wunderkind, so they are unfazed.
The next part actually IS more like flattery, as she tells them she knows how “close” they are to Rosie and what an “active part” they take in her interests. A-plus on that BS, there, Ms. Kishi. Claud goes on to say Rosie is hiding another incredible talent in her art.
Mrs. Wilder sighs. “She doodles. That’s all. She’s never shown any serious interest in art.” Oh my God, she’s a fucking seven-year-old. Seriously, what “serious interest” did toddler Rosie show when you started booking her into overtime training every second of the day?
Claudia says Rosie’s drawings are really good for her age, and the Wilders are doubtful. Claudia points out that Rosie already understands shadowing and perspective, which most people have to learn from teachers, and she knows because she’s taken lots of lessons.
The Wilders are suspicious, so Claud cites her classes in school and at the Arts Center, and also her class with McKenzie Clark. She immediately adds “I’m not saying that to brag. . .” Mr. Wilder has heard of McKenzie Clark, which piques his interest.
Claudia says plenty of kids, “even kids my own age in the class in New York,” don’t have Rosie’s potential. And unless that’s a burn on Mallory, I call BS-I don’t think she and Mal exchanged one word with anyone but Mac. Also, I love the retconning where Claudia doesn’t remember how for most of the class, she was acting like a stubborn, entitled brat.
Now the Wilders are intrigued, but Claudia says she can also see “that old light bulb switching on over their heads.” They consider “popping up” to McKenzie Clark’s studio on one of their NYC runs, and how gross and entitled.
Claudia frets that the Wilders will squeeze the love of drawing out of Rosie and she’ll burn out like she has with her other talents, and realizes that this is exactly why Rosie’s been hiding her drawing-it’s been the only thing that was still truly hers. Claudia says that Rosie’s face lights up when she draws, and considers comparing it to her glum look the rest of the time, but thinks “that would have been going too far.”
You know, these girls were willing to be judgy as hell about Mrs. Barrett and the Felders and Aunt Cecilia, but when they don’t breathe word one to people who SHOULD be judged hard, like the Wilders and the Sobaks and the Hills (okay, they haven’t met them yet, I guess.) Also, the Wilders are clearly thick as fuck, so this probably does need to be spelled out.
Then Claudia gets a idea of “a fun way to involve Rosie in her drawing” by inviting her to join Claudia’s art show. Which I guess is fine, but it kind of undermines the insight Claudia just had about how important it is to Rosie to have art for its own sake. I mean, Rosie is clearly having fun just drawing; what does it even mean to “involve” her? (I assume she means a low-stakes way for Rosie to display her art, but that’s not really how those words work, Lerangis.)
Claudia consciously omits the junk food theme, which she thinks the Wilders would disapprove of, and I don’t really get her thinking-like they aren’t going to find out later? Also, I love how super-cultured Stoneybrook and “artsy” folk like the Wilders are just having their tiny minds blown by what is a pretty basic pop art standard by now. (It’s like in Mona Lisa Smile, how I can’t take anyone seriously when they act like an art history professor being into Picasso in the 50s was shocking! Pollock, maybe, but by the 50s, Picasso was solidly establishment.)
Anyway, Mr. Wilder says it sounds fine “in theory” but Rosie has a “go-see” (modeling audition) in Stamford that afternoon. Claudia says Rosie doesn’t need to be there the whole day. “I just figured it would be a good way for her work to get some exposure.”
Claudia pats herself on the back for saying “exactly the right thing” but-really? First of all, who the hell do they expect to wonder by the Kishi garage, Clement Greenberg? And secondly, isn’t this just giving in to the mechanistic, joyless way the Wilders approach all of Rosie’s talents? I mean, I don’t really expect Claudia to fix that, but it seems weird to celebrate it like a breakthrough, when a breakthrough would be the idea that AS A SEVEN-YEAR-OLD, Rosie can simply love to draw without needing “exposure.”
But the Wilders say okay as long as it doesn’t interfere with her other activities, and Claud dashes upstairs to tell Rosie. I give Claudia a point for actually knocking on Rosie’s closed door and waiting to be asked in. Rosie is at her desk, drawing, and says “They told you never to come back, right?” Which is sad, and also suddenly gave me a flash of Rosie having previous voice/piano/violin/dance/et cetera teachers who maybe suggested the Wilders ease off and got fired for their pains.
Claudia says nope, she actually talked them into letting Rosie display her drawings at the show. Of course, Claudia had never even mentioned this, and it would have been more interesting, I think, if Rosie wasn’t even sure she wanted to. But of course, she does, and Claudia tells her she’d better polish up her sketches. Rosie then frets about how she’ll find the time, and Claudia tells her she’ll manage and the Claudia has faith in her, which is kind of sweet but to me would have totally felt like adding yet another pressure.
Claudia also asks Rosie to promise to talk to her parents about what she wants and doesn’t want to do. Although she doesn’t offer to help or be there for moral support or anything. And Claudia leaves.
Chapter 14
The debut of “Claudia Kishi’s ‘Disposable Comestibles,’ a Pop-Art Multi-Media Extravaganza.”
“Multi-Media”? It’s all paintings. And “Pop-Art”? Get a grip on your damn hyphenates, copy-editor.
Anyway, the name. She credits it to Janine, who glanced in Claudia’s room and said “Are you painting your disposable comestibles?” and Claudia thought it was hilarious. She claims Janine didn’t see the humor in it, and I call BS, because seriously, ANN, smart people don’t talk that way. Like, it’s not how language works. You say that if you’re making a joke, or possibly working from a very poorly translated document.
Dawn also doesn’t think it’s funny, because she thinks it sounds like it’s trying too hard to be smart. “But they were both missing the point. Here was this huge, complicated name that would give people the idea they were seeing something serious, and then the subject of the show would turn out to be junk food.” She says she thinks humor is a one of the main things about pop art. See, I like stuff like this, where it feels like Claudia is actually engaged in ideas about art and display and context. I wish we saw it more often.
The garage finally got cleaned, and Mr. Kishi is pleased about all the free labor he got, and how he might set up a little wood shop, and I guess I’ve fallen into the stereotyping trap, because that is not how I picture Mr. Kishi spending his free time at all. But rock on, Mr. Kishi, with your, um, lathes and handsaws. Now I want fanfic about Claudia and her dad working on wood-based projects together. Claudia thinks happily she could put on shows annually, or each season, so obviously it will never be mentioned again.
Rosie comes by and hangs up her sketches, than obsessively starts readjusting them until Claudia tells her to stop before they tear and the nails come out of the wall. Claudia is putting price stickers on her paintings, because she thinks she should get used to the idea of selling her art, like in a real gallery. Whatever. I give her a figurative pat on the head when she claims that’s what she’ll be doing for a living some day. Oh, honey. Good luck with that.
(That’s not a crack on her talent, btw; it’s a bitter, bitter joke about supporting yourself on art without a day job.)
She also might donate some money to the BSC treasury. Oh, yeah, it’s not a cult AT ALL.
The Wilder parents show up right at ten (so did Rosie just wander over by herself? Kids can’t walk home from SES, but they roam free range through town?) and take three photos of the sign because Rosie’s name is on it. Whatever. But they are perfectly pleasant at the show, buy some junk food, and “seem fascinated” by the junk-food (sic) concept. At one point, Mr. Wilder singles out a painting and tells Rosie it’s very good, but of course, it’s actually Claudia’s lollipop. (But. . .since Claudia’s are all paintings and Rosie’s are all sketches-stop it with the logic, brain! We’re on the homestretch.) Claudia correct him and he laughs and says she has “influenced” Rosie’s style so much he can’t tell them apart (I’d be more worried he can’t tell the difference between “drawn” and “painted”) and says “She’s catching up to you, you know.” Rude. Rosie and Claudia look at each other and giggle-Claudia says she expected the Wilders to be competitive, but she and Rosie don’t mind.
Other BSC families show up and mostly like the paintings, especially the parents, although some kids “couldn’t see the point.” I don’t know whether the Papadakises trekking over from the land of the mansions is impressive or if there’s just nothing better to do. But I’ll just be glad they didn’t bring Karen so we didn’t have to have LS # Too Damn Many, Karen’s Art Gallery.
A little later on, Alan Gray drops by, looking like “(a) he had just woken up, and (b) that he had forgotten to take his human-being pills that morning.” The scandal, a teenager who sleeps in on a Saturday instead of organizing a dog-sled race to a berry-picking farm where the kids would perform an impromptu operetta. I don’t actually know what part (b) means. He laughs and says to Claudia “I see a lot of ads, but where’s the art?” and Claudia tells him he’s so funny she forgot to laugh.
Then she’s interrupted by a guy in a tweed coat who asks if she’s Ms. Kishi. “Well, I was wandering by, and I must say your work has an indescribable simplicity and taste. Truly an example of form following function, rather in the style spawned from the era that brought us the Bauhaus and the dadaists.” (My auto-correct is miffed that Dadaists didn’t get capped). Also, WTF.
Claudia is confused and thinks she shouldn’t have changed the name, because it is attracting “people who really talked like that.” People who don’t exist outside the warped minds of Ann and the ghosties, you mean? (People who talk pretentious bullshit about art definitely exist, but they don’t generally creep around suburban neighborhoods to say nonsensical bilge to barely teenage girls. That’s a different kind of asshole.) But she thanks him, and later repeats it to Janine, who tells her-correctly-that it makes no goddamn sense, so I’m not going to bother parsing out why. Thanks, Janine. I’ll play Scrabble with you anytime.
More people come, and Suzi Barrett yells out “Yucchh!” I appreciate the vaguely Yiddish sounding spelling variant there. Is Suzi developing a hacker’s cough, too? Claudia thinks it must be a kind of candy Suzi dislikes, but then she sees a “crude drawing of a dead cat next to a candy wrapper.” Nearby, she find a “terrible drawing of a grungy-looking toothless man eating a candy bar. He was smiling happily and saying “mmm!” while the candy was flaking down his chin.”
Of course, the “disgusting drawings” the work of Alan Gray, and I have to say I find this a little intriguing.
Like, did he come armed with paper and pencil and thumbtacks for this? How did he depict a dead cat rather than, idk, a sleeping cat? Xs for the eyes? A little thought bubble saying “dead cat is dead”? Also, that second drawing sounds way more detailed than I could scribble. In my headcanon, Alan is now a budding comics artist.
Claudia yells at him and he cheerfully withdraws, but later Claudia realizes he’s left little wads of chewing gum all over the floor. Tweedledum gets one on his penny loafers (aw, he and Mal are shoe twins!) and asks Claudia if it’s “environmental art” because he doesn’t find it amusing. Hannie, Mrs. Barrett, and Jessi also all step in gum before the BSC find and remove the remaining pieces. Kristy whispers that their next order of business will be REVENGE!
The rest of the day goes by, and Claudia sells paintings to Ms. Besser of the giant sleepover and Watson. Aw, Watson is a sweetie some times. Too bad he’s so failtastic with his younger children.
Rosie has to leave for her go-see, but before she goes, Claudia pulls her aside and asks if she’s spoken to her parents yet. Rosie says no, but she will soon. Claudia makes her promise.
“I had Rosie’s promise, and I wanted to be patient with her.” How fucking magnanimous of you, Claud. “But I knew the talk would be difficult for her. I wasn’t totally convinced she would find the courage to stand up to her parents."
She’s seven, Claudia. She needs your support, not your shitty, condescending judgment. She shouldn’t HAVE to have the courage for this, because it sucks that her parents are clueless, selfish, insensitive jerks working her much too hard for their own validation, and that she has no decent people in her life to advocate for her, instead of ignoring when she’s bullied, stressed, and exhausted, or writing her off as a conceited brat because of their own insecurities and prejudices. God. It’s too late in the book to make me this mad.
Chapter 15
Claudia’s last regular Rosie gig, since Rosie’s grandmother is doing much better. A couple of weeks ago, Claudia was “looking forward to this more than her birthday and Christmas combined,” but now that she and Rosie have bonded over art and Claudia has decided she’s not a devil spawn, she feels sad. Rosie tells her she didn’t get the dinner theater job, and Claudia sympathizes, but Rosie doesn’t mind, because it would have taken tons of time. (Luckily, the director said her audition was great; they just wanted a girl who looked more like the actress playing the mom, so the Wilders won’t be beating her with wire hangers or locking her in the basement or anything.)
Rosie wants to do a fun art project, so Claudia acts very mysterious about making her find old magazines and cut out pictures and cartoons of people and animals, and then mix and match the heads, torsos and feet. Rosie combines a horse head, a suited man torso, and baby legs in a diaper, and it sounds like something from either the worst or the best horror movie ever.
(close enough? thanks, Google Images!)
Then they play hangman, picking really long words so they can draw super-detailed hangmen. Then they go for a walk, and Rosie says she spoke to her parents. Claudia claims she didn’t want to be pushy, but is relieved.
Rosie says she told them she liked some of her activities, but not all, and she was just doing too much, and it was making her hate everything. Claudia asks how they reacted. “I was so-o-o surprised. They didn’t even yell at me.” Poor baby. No, seriously. Apparently they nodded and asks what she does want to do, and she says she had thought about it, and asks to do one school thing, one performance thing, and one creative thing. And her choices were math club, violin, and now art lessons, which she has volunteered Claudia to teach.
And seriously, even as a kid I found this completely unconvincing, and even more so now.
I just do not buy that parents as pushy and unresponsive to their child’s distress (I think most parents would be pretty distraught at hearing “I hate my life!” Especially from a little kid and not an emo teenager) and as invested (financially and emotionally) in showing off Rosie’s talents would just back off like that. Seriously. No way in hell. I guess it’s because they’ve been bathed in the healing aura of the BSC, because there’s sure as hell no plausible explanation in the text. So much of this book is irrelevant (Rosie’s room has salmon-colored walls!) and the actual meat of the plot is all offstage. Bravo, Lerangis. Brava, Ann.
But okay, sure, Rosie’s stage parents are fixed, and I guess either Rosie’s adjustment problems are also all fixed, or she’s been given a BSC stamp of approval, so she can be snarky and sassy and sometimes flat-out rude and it’ll be considered adorable.
Also, Janine bought Claudia’s Milk Duds painting, because she is the sweetest older sister ever. Rosie says she always liked Janine and they laugh, because, idk, it’s funny that Rosie was kind of a brat to Janine, but awful when she did it to Claud? I think this book has broken my brain, as Claudia and Rosie literally skip back home.
Whew! This is how I feel after snarking this one. Nothing on deck--I was looking for some things snarked only once that I could face, and one possible was Kristy and the Mystery Train, but I tend to find Derek as dull as dishwasher, as mentioned before, even though I do recall that book being pretty lulz-y. But as always, I happily take suggestions.