Welcome book sluts, to another meeting of The Peckerwood Book Club, where we can share our thoughts about the books we've been reading, what books we're looking forward to - and just as crucial, what we indulge in snack-wise while doing so. By the way, if you dare tell us that you never nosh while reading a book, we won't believe you, so don't even try.  Since it's summer, I find myself pursuing easy beach reads, and in some cases, revisiting old favorites.  One of them is " The Comfort Of Strangers ," my favorite Ian McEwan novel, which remains shockingly potent despite the poky 1990 Harold Pinter/Paul Schrader movie adaptation, which feels all too listless in comparison to McEwan's chilling examination of brutality, dominance and subservience in modern day relationships. At just over 120 pages, it streaks past like a deadly snake poised to strike.  The same might be said of another favorite, " Kiss Kiss Bang Bang ," a collection of early Pa...

Do you love movies like I love movies? I've been entranced with them since I was a child, and while I've grown older (ish), I've not grown cynical about their sometimes transformative powers. No, really. I still eagerly hope for the best when the lights dim and the audience's chatter subsides.  My heart is broken at regular intervals, of course, by lukewarm whiffs or outright duds, but sometimes, when every element clicks - director, script, actor - I'm all but blissed out. As Pauline Kael once noted, movies are the greatest art form because they encompass all art forms, and also, I would add, because their combination of the visual arts with movement is so seductive, creating a trance-like reverie. The best directors know this.  I try to see everything of even faint interest in a movie theatre with the biggest screen I can locate, and I hope you do, too, because if it's a good movie, rest assured, you'll won't see it on screen ever again.  Gone are the ...

Welcome, fellow trollops, to the latest edition of "Who's This Week's Thirstiest Ho?" Today's trio are drier than OJ's crusty prostrate, so they need all the moisture they can get. First up, let's talk about Matthew Perry, who's still dead, by the way, and still making headlines, which relatively young, famed, has-been drug addicts from your fledgling years are wont to do upon their demise. When Matthew kicked it, a large chunk of Gen X felt their mortality and obsessively played and re-played the "Friends" episode where he delivers the laugh line, "I guess I'll be the one who dies first!" It was hilarious at the time. Oh, so long ago. Misty, watercolored memories. If you're a little younger, he's that guy on that show without cellphones that you binged repeatedly on Netflix, playing it in the background while you texted and played Pokemon Unite, until it was yanked and put on Max which you refuse to subscribe to but wat...