Kaleidoscope

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Published: Apr 1, 2009

If you've got your grubby, existential hands on the first edition of Slaughterhouse-Five, consider yourself lucky — it's so rare we can't even find it on eBay. So it goes. Friday at 3 p.m., Kelly Writers House is hosting its third annual all-night-if-it-takes-that-long reading of Vonnegut's best, weirdest novel about an optometrist who gets unstuck in time. It's like Bloomsday, but with aliens.

—Carolyn Huckabay

Eschewing computer animation for good ol' Muppeteering, Spike Jonze took on a beast when he decided to adapt Where the Wild Things Are. With rumors of terrible test screenings and shoot setbacks, it could be a disaster. But when you watch the real life Wild Thing, with its devil horns and bulbous head, carry the brave and mighty Max through the woods in the recently released trailer, you stop worrying about what it could be and wish you still owned a pair of footy pajamas.

—Molly Eichel

You know what's not shocking? Sex. Weird sex. Frank sexual observations. Yawn. If all Mary Gaitskill (reading at the library tonight) had going for her was a dirty mind, she'd have burnt out years ago. Her latest story collection, Don't Cry, is as much about memorable characters and stalwart sentences as people philosophizing about boners and vajayjays.

—Patrick Rapa

I'm a little embarrassed for you, Bow Wow. All these tortured similes and insistent choruses about how you're the champ, how you're big time — it's starting to sound like overcompensation. The audaciously named New Jack City II is the hip-hop equivalent of the cherry red suburban sports car. Take your own advice: "Stop runnin' round lying bout your mutha fuckin life. Cause the real don't do that." Unless you want us to start calling you Lil' again.

—Patrick Rapa

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