Charles Bock invites you to be outraged. This past Sunday Bock reviewed John D’Agata’s new nonfiction book, “About a Mountain,” describing the material this way:

The mountain that John D’Agata is ostensibly concerned with … is Yucca Mountain, located approximately 100 miles north of Las Vegas. … [S]ince the mid-1980s, the United States government has been doing back flips to bury the country’s entire reservoir of spent nuclear waste — some 77,000 tons of apocalyptic yumminess — deep inside Yucca. In the summer of 2002, the summer after D’Agata helped his mother move to a Vegas suburb, Congress was proceeding with plans to make the mountain a nuclear dump. Also that summer, 16-year-old Levi Presley jumped to his death from the observation deck of a third-rate Vegas hotel. These subjects, disparate though they are, animate D’Agata’s sprawling narrative.

But Bock doesn’t want to direct your outrage toward government backed destruction of the environment, youth suicide, or even sprawling nonfiction narratives. No. He wants to direct your rage to a few of D’Agata’s footnotes.

Yes, that’s right: the footnotes.

With such weighty material to discuss, it seems ridiculous to zero in on footnotes but perhaps these are some outrageous footnotes, deserving of the full weight of our scorn. D’Agata writes nonfiction, you see, and he acknowledges in one of his naughty footnotes that he conflates the dates of two key events in his story by three days. MY GOD.

Bock uses inflammatory language, calling the material referred to by the footnote a “lie.” He goes on to charge D’Agata with playing “fast and loose with a verifiable historical date.” I suppose this is true if by “verifiable” Bock means that he had to read the footnote where D’Agata presents the discrepancy. But I wonder if adding footnotes to nonfiction really deserves the “fast and loose” qualifier that’s typically employed to discuss immoral women, or deviant sexual behavior (as fun as those things can be!).

To be fair, Bock speaks highly of D’Agata’s work:

Rarely does D’Agata betray his emotions or reactions to an event; rather, he works by establishing a scene, introducing tangentially related elements, building layers of complexity and scope, then jump-cutting or circling back at just the right moment, guiding the reader safely — and unexpectedly — to a destination D’Agata had in sight the whole time.

And Bock understands the bigger picture. He knows what D’Agata is trying to do with creative nonfiction, not just in this book, but in the whole of his career:

As D’Agata himself writes, in his introduction to “The Lost Origins of the Essay”: “Do we read nonfiction in order to receive information, or do we read it to experience art? It’s not very clear sometimes. So this is a book that will try to offer the reader a clear objective: I am here in search of art.”

But ultimately Bock finds D’Agata’s voice lacking, having lost nothing less than his “moral authority” by conflating these dates. Although D’Agata offers no explanation for this conflation, Bock helpfully tenders a reason of his own: “for the sake of a tight narrative hook.” I don’t know. I haven’t read the book. But even knowing that the date of this child’s suicide has been conflated with some important back room vote doesn’t make the hook of this hard-to-grasp story much tighter for me. In Bock’s own words, the hook seems built on “layers of complexity and scope”; it does not easily give itself to a quick one line summary: this boy dies, that deal done. But even if we concede that a tidier hook is the reason for the conflation: Is it worthy of our scorn?

I’d argue that all of creative nonfiction suffers when we—writers and readers of creative nonfiction—allow journalists to manipulate us so easily. We do have to be wary of authors who pass off their fictions as truth. But do we need to be so dogmatic that a footnote raises a larger cry from us than anything found in our texts?

Of course, Bock can evaluate the book and the writer in whatever way he chooses. And calling into question the veracity of nonfiction is (sadly) the norm these days. I do want to know if the nonfiction book I’m reading has been made up. I just get tired of journalists revving up the scorn machine to score a point.

If John D’Agata can lose the moral high ground for footnoting his work, what does that say about us as readers and writers?

It’s hard to believe Maggie Gyllenhaal got an Oscar nomination for this. She’s not terrible, but she didn’t seem to bring much to this role. I have not read the book, but I got the sense that there must have been some dramatic tinkering going on with Bad’s alcoholic bottom. Was it softened up to make him seem less reprehensible? If so, that was a mistake. Maggie’s reaction seemed somewhat out-of-line and threw the rest of the movie off the rails.

The one thing that surprised me was Robert Duvall – The whole movie was by the numbers, but his was the one role that offered a pleasant surprise. I couldn’t figure out how his character functioned in the story until it was revealed (and it wasn’t like it was a big Hollywood reveal, but more like I was surprised that his character was the one playing that part, a crucial role for these kind of films). I thought it would be Maggie or the agent guy on the phone. And for all the singing that Bridges does, I thought Duvall’s little spoken word song was the most poignant of all. Good call on adding it to the closing credits.

Dopefiend is the “code” name of my latest novel-length memoir project.

I wanted to write a few words about what I’m doing, as much to keep you folks at home updated, as to track what happens as I continue to work. I’m excited about this project because it’s now gone beyond the good idea stage and has become a fully formed idea. I have in mind a beginning, a middle, and an end. Not only do I know what’s going to happen in a general way, but I also know specifically what will happen in each chapter along the way. And I have it in writing. I’ve created a chapter-by-chapter synopsis.

But before we get into the details, let’s go high level.

This memoir builds on the success of my Modern Love piece, As a Father, I Was Hardly a Perfect Fit, a humorous essay about forging a relationship with Timmy when I lived in New York City. Here is the full title I’m sending around to agents and editors:

Dopefiend: A 12-Step Story of a Father’s Journey from Heroin Addiction to Redemption with His Son

Not sure if I’ll actually be able to use this title for the finished work, but I love the edgy word dopefiend paired with plaintive call for redemption in the subtitle. My apologies to Donald Goines for appropriating his badass title. Unlike Mr. Goines, I’m not planning on covering much of the time I spent using drugs. Instead, the plan is to focus primarily on recovery. I consider it a spiritual road memoir, though it’s a decidedly irreverent trip.

Obviously I’m going to focus on the 12-Steps, which I’ve used to great effect to change my life around. But I’m not interested in getting tangled in dogma or preachy instruction on abstinence. Instead I’m organizing the story in a way that celebrates 12-Step recovery. Dopefiend is a concept memoir: I am writing it  in twelve chapters, with each chapter to focus on one of twelve spiritual values. Each value corresponds to one of the 12-Steps.

Together the chapters form a narrative that describes how I got sober and built a relationship with Tim. I want to stick close enough to the story about Tim to give Dopefiend some mainstream appeal. But I also want to offer a deep and satisfying story about 12-Step recovery that doesn’t necessarily involve a hero’s journey or a Hollywood ending.

Heroin addiction is incredibly debilitating. If you survive, most of the time you don’t get your wife back, you remain distant from your siblings, and you can never recapture the time lost with your son. If you’re lucky, you don’t die from AIDS or the hard realities of this kind of life.

But if you’re thoughtful about it, you might see how your story can benefit others. You might find a little place for yourself, with a different wife, maybe struggling to build ties with your siblings, or learning to make the best of the time you have left with your son.

I’m excited. I’ll post more in the weeks to come.

Kerry Cohen is my latest dose of inspiration. I particularly enjoyed her essay in the craft section of the latest Brevity.

Cohen is talking about being abused as a young girl, but also acknowledging how hard it is to accept that she enjoyed those feelings and even came to chase after those feelings. I can completely relate to this from my own adolescent experience experimenting with sex. Her memoir is about promiscuity, and in some ways it is not the same as what my experience was (adolescent boys are rarely considered promiscuous, and I’m not sure I’d classify my experience as abuse, but when you mix adults, adolescents, and sex, the results are always bound to be a little dodgy). Yet this perverse sense of shame for enjoying something so physical seems very familiar.

I am trying to write a childhood memoir myself. It is very slow going. I have actually had to set it aside for now because it just seems too big to tackle, and too hard to get a firm handle on. But I often think about picking it back up and essays like this one give me a certain amount of encouragement, a certain amount of hope.

Here is the link to Cohen’s latest memoir, “Loose Girl, a memoir of promiscuity.”

William Bradley is the Ethical Exhibitionist. He is also an insanely talented writer. His work is featured in the latest Brevity, which just hit the Web.

One day, my dad came home at lunch with the newspaper—fresh off the press—in his hand.  “Do you know this girl?”  She looked more interesting in black and white.  “She’s missing,” he said.  “Her parents think she was kidnapped.” 

“Julio At Large” by William Bradley

Book of Eli surprised and delighted me.

Understand: I love me some postapocalyptic, dystopian, nightmare movie. Book of Eli has plenty of the requisite violence, flair, and visual style this sort of movie calls for. But it’s also a thoughtful movie about the power of faith, and the way religion can be a saving grace in one man’s life, even while it drives another man to war. The last 15 minutes had me holding my breath for fear the movie was going to careen of its tracks, but it holds up to the end. Just a brilliant ending that makes you want to watch again.

Go see it.

I know (kinda, sorta) Gary Whitta, the guy who wrote the screenplay for Book of Eli. We posts on a message board with a bunch of other writers and geeks. So naturally a bunch of the guys in my area got together to see the movie on its opening night. Meanwhile, there were similar groups doing the same thing in Rochester, Las Vegas, San Francisco and probably a few other places, too. I love that kind of community. This is an example of the Internet is at its best.

Here they are!

My favorite movies of the past year. I still have a few I want to watch, so (thorughout January) I reserve the right to juggle.

1. Star Trek – Wonderful adaption. The best adaptatiotns remain just faithful enough to the source material, but still manage to offer up a few surprises. By far the best Star Trek movie of the bunch, but a potent adaptation in its own right.
2. Inglorious Basterds – Fun to watch, fun to mull over. Once you see it, it’s hard to understand why all WW2 pictures don’t end this way. Now one of my favorite Tarantino pictures.
3. District 9 – I loved the inventive transformation of the main character. An ugly little man becomes a humane alien.
4. Sherlock Holmes – Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law have a lot of chemistry as Holmes and Watson.
5. Fantastic Mr. Fox – Subversive little movie with a lot of heart. I liked the father son relationship. I liked how the boy struggled to be seen by his Dad. I liked how Dad was blinded by his own needs. But most of all I liked watching these characters make the best of their own limitations. “Cluster-cuss!”
6. Hurt Locker - The most powerful scene shows Sgt James (Jeremy Renner), who has just returned from a horrifying tour in Iraq, wandering through the supermarket with his wife, staring at a wall of cereal, just before he reenlists. Fascinating portrayal of a smart guy who really has no clue what’s motivating him.
7. Avatar – Beautiful movie, engaging if familiar story.
8. Watchman – Bold and original.
9. Julie & Julia – Meryl Streep is so much fun to watch. Stanley Tucci is a joy.
10. Taken - An episode of 24 but with Liam Neeson.

I am a huge Sherlock Holmes fan and thought the new move rang true as an adaptation. The few notable divergences (Watson’s wife, Holmes’ boxing matches and his own love interest) seemed acceptable to me. The chemistry between Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law was excellent, which is all you really need for a good Holmes adaptation. Denby said it reminded him of a screwball comedy, which seems spot on to me. It’s the same thing that made the old Holmes movies with Basil Rathbone and Nigel Bruce work so well. The big difference between the old series and this one is that Rathbone took his part so seriously, which was probably appropriate for his time–most of those movies are thinly veiled WW2 propaganda pieces. This new one is much lighter, with RDJ/Law hamming it up at times.

I thought the evil Lord Blackwood’s (Mark Strong) “Di Vinci protocol” scheme was an excellent way to evoke the Victorian era and it’s relationship to magic and the supernatural. Besides Hounds of the Baskerville, I can’t really think of another Conan Doyle story that uses the supernatural in that way, but Holmes use of deduction and reason always looks best in contrast to a supernatural story.

I liked Avatar, and I am not even sure why (despite my having a few weeks to think about it). It charmed me. I liked Jake, (Sam Worthington) the broken main character. He’s physically broken (his disability), emotionally weak (easily manipulated by Stephen Lang, the bad marine), and not much of a marine himself (he almost gets himself and his party killed on his first patrol).

Sure, the movie moves forward in a predictable fashion, borrowing from many other movies, and doesn’t even offer us a single good line of dialog for posterity (“I see you.” Gah, how awful). But none of that matters.

The point is watching a mope like Jake turn his circumstances around. This movie reminds me of Rocky. It’s not like Rocky is good because it was the first sports movie to feature an unlikely underdog who came from behind–it’s interesting because Stallone plays such an utterly luckless, shambling clod who must rise above his circumstances.

And none of this takes away from the criticisms people are making about Avatar’s plot, the slim characters, etc. Much of that is true. I wish it would have explored identity with a little more depth and meaning. But it had enough good to win me over.

I found it interesting that Jake had to abandon his body to become more human. I hope they do a little more with the plot in future installments.

It was also very beautiful.

A friend of mine said it’s just a shame he couldn’t have seen this when he was twelve. I completely agree. Aaron and I saw it opening day. Halfway through, he turned to me and whispered, “Thanks for bringing me to see this, Dad.”

My pleasure., son. My pleasure.

This is Holly at sunrise on some sand dunes in Death Valley.

We drove through the park on our way to see family in California. What a fun trip. And not without adventure. Our waterpump went out on the road, but lucky for us we broke down in one of the first towns past the desert.

More pictures here.