I’m not one for making New Year’s resolutions — nobody ever keeps them, and frankly I don’t need an extra dose of self-loathing because I failed to live up to some arbitrary and cliche’d promise to lose weight and improve my life — but there is one thing I’d like try to do in 2008, and that’s to get back in the habit of writing book and movie reviews here on Simple Tricks. Partly just because I used to enjoy doing them and I’ve missed it, but also because I think I need the mental exercise. My analytical skills have gotten pretty rusty the last few years, and I’m tired of feeling like a dunce when someone asks me for my opinion on something. And I think it’ll help with my retention, too; I was surprised and disheartened last night while writing my media wrap-up entries at how genuinely difficult it was to remember enough to comment on the stuff I’d read or seen only a couple of months earlier.
For my own sanity, I’m going to try and keep these reviews short. As I’ve repeatedly said, I just don’t have that much leisure time anymore, and I’m not sure people read all my really long entries anyway. Besides, there’s a real art to writing concisely, and that too is probably something I need to practice.
So, first up is a nifty work of memoir called The Happiest Days of Our Lives, by actor, writer, and all-round hoopy frood Wil Wheaton:
