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By Robert E. Lee Morris
©2019 Tribune Content Agency, LLC
03/01/19
Los Angeles Times Daily Crossword Puzzle
Edited by Rich Norris and Joyce Nichols Lewis
03/01/19
ANSWER TO PREVIOUS PUZZLE:
Release Date: Friday, March 1, 2019
ACROSS
1 College Park Big
Ten athlete
5 Smarten (up)
10 Cutlass, e.g.
14 Big name in the
cookie aisle
15 “Rebel Without a
Cause” actor
16 Castle
17 Addition at the
palace?
19 Dot on a globe,
perhaps
20 Surprising and
sometimes
annoying
success
21 Felicity’s
“Desperate
Housewives” role
23 Somme summer
24 Pringles
alternative
26 Trap fluff
27 “__ about time!”
28 Reason for road
service
32 Disreputable
35 “All in the Family”
spinoff
36 Dallas NBAer
37 Church service
38 Zany
39 Ballet move
40 Weapon in some
action flicks
41 Potsdam
“please”
42 Social gathering
43 Rip verbally
45 Fall back
46 Acknowledge
47 Woodwind
musician’s piece
49 CPR pro
52 Gasses up
55 University of
Wyoming city
57 PC addresses
58 Mole in the cat
food factory?
60 Down
61 Egbert __, aptly
named W.C.
Fields character
62 Countertop
material
63 Alluring
64 Youngster of an
awkward age
65 Bullring bravos
DOWN
1 Kitchen topper
2 Release
violently
3 Shortstop
alongside
Robinson
4 Keats or Yeats
5 Brainpower
6 1492 sailer
7 Lodging provider
8 Sense
9 Jimi Hendrix
classic
10 Point in the right
direction
11 Missing watch?
12 Nimrod
13 Arcade
trademark word
18 Vile
22 Nick at __
25 Intangible quality
responsible
for four puzzle
answers
27 Passports, e.g.
29 “Star Wars” hero
30 Velocity, e.g.
31 At any time
32 “Give me __ and
nothing but”:
Tom Lehrer lyric
33 Sunset obscurer
34 Change in
China?
35 Actor LeBlanc
38 It includes reds
39 Lively dance
41 Small meal
42 Sierra __
44 Mixed martial
artist Ronda
45 Heavy
48 Beethoven
dedicatee
49 Inbox message
50 Prepare, as
garlic
51 __ Pete: hot
sauce brand
52 Massages
53 Creator of Perry
and Della
54 Winter coat
56 Magazine
contents
59 Go after, in a
way
Raise the ruff!
It’s Friday!!!
The
annual
Probility
Marathon returns to Ann
Arbor on March 24th, and
organizers are hoping for
a large turnout. The race’s
first event, held in 2012,
attracted runners
from 44 different
states and raised
thousands
for
nonprofits
and
Ann Arbor Public
Schools. This year,
Packard
Health,
Cancer
Support
Community, Ele’s
Place and North
Star
Reach
will
be receiving the
profits from the
marathon,
with
attendees
given
the
chance
to
donate more upon
registration.
The
race
program
is
run
by
Epic
Races, which has
raised a total of $205,000 for
charities since 2015, all while
providing the opportunity for
new and experienced runners
alike to join the local events.
This year’s course begins
at Michigan Stadium and
passes
through
the
Hill
neighborhood,
around
the
Forest Hill Cemetery, through
Gallup Park and the Arb (and
the feared hill which runs
through it) before finishing
back at Michigan Stadium.
Runners can choose to run
a 5K, 10K or full marathon.
The race had also deviated
from the standard marathon
policy in proudly overseeing
a zero waste policy and a
standardized results system,
a move which has helped
to attract the thousands of
attendees in previous years.
Hotel
information,
route
maps, registration and race
results can all be found on
the
Epic
Races
website,
linked here.
Epic Races is also adding a
new event this year: the relay.
Runners have been invited
to split the distance of the
full marathon among teams
of two-four. That harrowing
26.2 has been smashed into
the far more approachable
numbers of 6.05 and 7.05 (two
legs of each). And you know,
when you can run three miles
you can run four, and when
you can run four you can
grossly round up to seven.
And then, suddenly, you’re
piecing together a marathon
team from the largest group
of
people
you
see
most
frequently: Daily Arts.
Although
Arts
has
a
reputation for not, like, doing
anything except talk about
highbrow music and movies,
running is in our brand.
Haruki Murakami has run
one marathon a year from
the age of 33, and completed
all 62 miles of the Hokkaido
ultramarathon
in
1996.
Will Ferrell has three full
marathons under his belt, and
P. Diddy finished the New
York in 2003 “in sunglasses,
his hair in a closely cropped
Mohawk and an ‘I Heart New
York’ breathing strip across
his nose.”
If P. Diddy can
do 26.2, we can do
seven.
Welcome
the
Daily
Arts
Runners:
Emma
Chang,
John
Decker,
Shima
Sadaghiyani
and
Verity Sturm. As
a unit, we boast
a
spectrum
of
relationships with
running,
ranging
from
“cross
country in middle
school” to “5ks on
treadmills”
and
“half
marathon
into
Canada.”
And to be honest,
we
haven’t
been
training (have you
seen the ice?). But hey, the
internet says we can get the
deed done in four, three, even
two weeks. So stop asking me
about it.
All irony aside, there’s
something
alluring
about
passing
the
baton
across
that historic distance across
the city in which we seem
to weather a marathon of
experiences day in and day
out (and with our coworkers,
to boot). Register here if you
want to run alongside us and
rip on “Green Book,” stay
tuned for our training video
dropping the week of 3/18 or
watch us do the damn thing
on Sunday, March 24th at
7:30 a.m.
Lacing up for our debut in
the Ann Arbor Marathon
NEW MEDIA
Probility Ann Arbor Marathon
7:30 a.m.
Mar. 24, 2019
Michigan Stadium
$116
I’ve been thinking a lot
about mothers lately. Last
week was a whirlwind of
sadness and celebration, as
the sudden death of one of
my good friends’s mother fell
within days of my own mom’s
birthday. I cried, I laughed, I
talked to my mom for hours
on the phone. It’s times like
this that remind me how
much she means to me, how
much a mother can mean
in general. During this era
of pseudo-adulthood I find
myself in at college, I realize
more and more every day how
much she has prepared me
for whatever life might throw
in my way. Sure, it might not
be easy to get through, but if
there’s anything I’ve taken
to heart from her, it’s that
I’ll get through eventually. I
love her more than any other
person ever to walk this earth
here are some things that I
have learned from her that I
think about every single day.
Thanks, mom.
There
is
beauty
in
literally everything around
you.
My friends would vouch
that I have taken this to heart,
that I’m one sappy girl when it
comes to anything beautiful. I
cry at everything: sad things,
happy
things,
beautiful
things, funny things. I think
the key to really capturing
happiness in your life is to
understand this fact. It’s not
something my mom has ever
said verbatim to me, but I’ve
learned from watching her
that there is a kernel of joy
hidden
inside
everything
we see on the day to day.
When it snows and looks like
powdered sugar falling in the
night here, I think of my mom
she has literally yelled at my
siblings and I to “LOOK AT
BEAUTY!” on a regular basis
for most of my life. Sunsets,
flowers, fields on the way
to our cottage up north, it’s
all beautiful to her. Through
this, she taught me how to
find that kernel of beauty
even in the darker times we
all go through: There’s always
something waiting to surprise
you.
Tell the people you love
that you love them.
This one is pretty obvious
to me, but I realize now how
important it truly is. I tell my
friends I love them constantly,
almost
to
an
annoying
extent. That’s something I’ve
learned from my mother. In
her opinion, if you feel it,
why wouldn’t you share that
with someone? Knowing the
amount of love in my life, all
I can do is share it with those
around me. It’s three words,
a short declaration that can
make all the difference to
whoever it’s said to. The fear
of awkwardness or rejection is
much less daunting when you
understand that an immediate
response doesn’t really matter
in the long run instead, it’s the
thought behind it that stays
with those involved.
Don’t be afraid to say
what you feel.
If there’s anything that
this week taught me, it’s that
things can change quicker
than you think is humanly
possible. That’s something my
mom has always embraced,
telling my siblings and I
everything she feels for us at
any given moment. She calls us
“chickens,” which I’ve always
found hilarious. Sometimes
I’ll be sitting at home and hear
her through the wall: “I’m so
glad you’re home, chickens!”
It’s kind of a drastic example,
but those expressions of love
and happiness have rubbed
off on me. What’s the use of
keeping something great or
important inside your head?
Everything’s
better
when
people are on the same page.
Don’t hide from yourself by
hiding your thoughts from
those who are lucky enough to
hear them. It doesn’t need to
be dire, maybe just a reminder
that you care, or that you saw
something funny on the way
to work. If something makes
you happy or sad or possesses
you to share it at all, you
never know how much it can
brighten another person’s day.
The best skill a person
can have is the ability to
laugh at life.
My mother is one of the
funniest
people
I
know,
and it’s not just because she
has a wicked wit she really
knows how to laugh at life,
whether it’s good, bad, or even
somewhere in between. At its
base elements, life is hilarious.
Understanding that can make
any moment full of dread or
sadness just that little bit
better so it’s easier to handle.
I have a considerably darker
sense of humor than she does,
but I think a lot of it came from
this lesson that she has taught
me. It’s a lot less difficult to
get through hard times when
you can find the humor in
your situation, or even in
yourself. In my opinion, this is
the most important thing I’ve
learned from my mom. Being
a person in this crazy world
is hard, you might as well be
able to see how ridiculous it
is. We’re all just here trying
to have a good life, but the
thing that binds us is how
insane the path may seem to
get there. Laugh a little more,
and I promise it will make
that journey a smoother one.
It might even rub off on your
own children one day.
DAILY GENDER & MEDIA COLUMN
CLARA
SCOTT
For my mom, with love
About
a
year
before
the
publication of his first novel,
“Bangkok
Wakes
To
Rain,”
Pitchaya Sudbanthad published
a listicle cataloging a handful of
“place-based novels.” He writes:
“When writers get asked how their
novel came to them, some might
answer that a character spoke first
or a sentence sounded to them,
and for others, like me, we require
an arrival of a place, or rather, our
arrival to one.”
“Bangkok” seems to be an
attempt to stage such an arrival for
the reader. The novel’s nearly
400 pages aim to capture the
titular city in a panorama
from 19th-century Siam to a
speculative future of climate
catastrophe. His approach to
this dizzying task is like that
of a collage — Sudbanthad
writes that he “(let) my mind
wander in the city where I was
born and (heard) the city tell
me stories,” and accordingly,
“Bangkok” takes the form of
a collection of stories in and
around Bangkok. As a possible
anchor point, we get a recurrent
Garcia
Márquez-esque
house
somewhere in the city, which most
of the characters are connected to
in some way.
Despite this confluence of the
vast and the specific, Sudbanthad
generally leaves allegory just out
of view. His characters do not
necessarily symbolize anything,
even if they are representative of
certain kinds of citizens of the city
at different times and places. The
central characters of the story are
Sammy, who moved away from the
city when he was young, and later
returns to sell his parents’ house;
Nee and Nok, two sisters who grow
up in Bangkok together before
Nok leaves for Japan and Nee gets
involved in the student protests
of the ’70s; and Mai and Pig, two
millennials who are around for
the city’s reclamation by the sea in
the 2020s. The novel intersperses
episodes of the main characters
with one-off anecdotes and wide
panoramic shots, all intended,
presumably, to capture another
aspect of the city — to make the
image more complete. There’s even
a section told from the point of
view of the birds in the marshy area
surrounding the city.
This is all a lot to take in, and
despite the elaborate schemes
Sudbanthad uses to connect the
disparate threads of the novel, it
still feels like we are essentially
dealing
with
a
collection
of
unrelated stories. This is fine, but it
would help if the stories themselves
had more interest beyond simply
commenting on each other. The
individual story arcs have the
quality of fading in and out without
accomplishing much: Sammy drifts
from place to place, Nee and Nok
argue and eventually make up,
Pig and Mai drift apart. The plots
frequently have a backdrop of social
unrest, but after 1976, nothing
disastrous really happens, or indeed
feels like it can happen. Even when
the rising seas completely swallow
the old city, we are reassured that
there’s life after it, and that it’s just
as boring as before: Mai and Pig live
suspiciously like Nee and Nok did.
More
generally,
what’s
so
striking about the idea of a “place-
based novel” is that it is essentially
founded on a contradiction. If the
point of a novel (of the kind with
speaking and thinking characters)
is a sense of location, of place, the
characters are mostly important
for their ability to illuminate the
place, even as we see them on the
page as thinking, speaking humans
rather than symbols.
Accordingly,
Sudbanthad’s
characters feel like the novel’s
weakest link. In Sammy’s case,
one could be forgiven for being
unenthusiastic about the Global
South edition of the Salingerite
anti-hero, who wanders around
stewing in his disaffection with
nearly everything. He is passive-
aggressive toward his family, he
treats women badly, he feels a guilt
far vaguer than seems situationally
appropriate — it’s familiar and a
little ugly.
Nee and Nok are the novel’s most
successful characters, but they
seem a little plain, slotted into roles
and tasked with playing them out.
The two sisters are both defined by
their memories. In Nee’s case, she
relives her traumatic experiences
in the student protests as similar
events happen in 1992, but is
otherwise mostly just dutiful to
her job as a manager for the condo
building and swim instructor. Nok
starts a Thai restaurant in Japan,
a balm for the homesickness of
Thai students. Nee and Nok are
conduits for memory, which is, for
Sudbanthad, a force like gravity:
unidirectional,
rather
linear,
inescapable.
And there are some characters
who are somewhere in between
having full roles and just sort
of being representative of
a time or a place. A 19th
century minister gets some
of Sudbanthad’s best prose,
but his role in the story is
never clarified; he just seems
to be there to inform us that
Bangkok had a past. The
strangest of his characters
(and despite this, definitely
one of the book’s larger
catastrophes) is Clyde, the
jazz pianist copy-pasted from
New York to Bangkok in the
mid to late 20th century. Clyde
feels like the muzak version of a
jazz musician written by someone
who engages with the history of
American popular music out of the
corner of his eye — there’s no real
history or engagement with any
of the musical movements Clyde
would have known of or lived
through, an omission that feels
profoundly wrong in a genre of
music so heavily focused on lineage
and influence. (Later in the novel
Sudbanthad makes up a series of
absurd jazz musicians that makes
me think he hasn’t ventured very
far into the back catalog.)
Clyde also gets some of the
novel’s
most
puckered,
florid
writing: “When he had much of the
crowd swaying and nodding their
heads at the table, he knew the
irrepressible moment had arrived.
He’d call them out to the floor and
out they’d tumble, tugged from
their seats by a hand they might
only hold for that night. Folks sure
went wild, given the permission
of a mess.” It’s impossible to know
what Sudbanthad wants his readers
to get from this strange man. He is
just there, much like everything
else in this novel is just there, left
for the reader to draw any possible
conclusions from it.
‘Bangkok Wakes’ is muddy
BOOK REVIEW
‘Bangkok Wakes to Rain’
Pitchaya Sudbanthad
Riverhead Books
Feb. 29, 2019
EMILY YANG
Daily Arts Wrtier
VERITY STURM
Daily Arts Runner
JOHN DECKER
Daily Arts Runner
6 — Friday, March 1, 2019
Arts
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com