Hi everyone!
There's a lot I could write about today: how I've become (albeit reluctantly) intrigued by Denver Broncos' Bible-quoting quarterback Tim Tebow, the fact that yesterday's protests in Russia took place without any discernible conflict, or more on what's going on in the Middle East. Instead, I'm going to write a little bit about my novel "Birds of Dreams," what it's about, and how I believe it captures the state of popular culture/society today.
I will be the first to admit that I am a reality television junkie. Yes, I am huge fan of Bravo's Real Housewives franchise (particularly Beverly Hills) as well as A-List: New York and A-List: Dallas. I think it would be fun to know Andy Cohen and appear as a guest on his show Watch What Happens...Live. I haven't missed an episode of The X Factor and believe it consistently outshines American Idol in terms of talent, production values, and conflict (real or staged) between the judges. While I have never watched an episode of anything to do with the Kardashians, I did root for Rob on the recently concluded season of Dancing with the Stars and found myself surfing the Internet for the latest on the fallout from Kim's wedding. I have watched several seasons of Top Chef and never miss The Amazing Race when it isn't being pre-empted by Sunday afternoon football. Like many of my fellow world citizens, I have often envisioned myself starring in my own reality television show and was at one time depressed by the fact that I am officially too old to appear on The Real World.
I have embraced this about myself and decided to do something constructive about it. I wrote a novel. "Birds of Dreams" tells the story of what happens when Reality collides with Reality-As-Seen-On-TV. It follows the lives of several reality TV aspirants and the rather ruthless and embarrassing things they do to get famous on the small screen. I have fused their story with another of my favorite guilty pleasures: Hindi cinema, otherwise known as Bollywood. And to further ground the story in contemporary society, I have also included a healthy dose of global terrorism. Readers will be introduced to Jordan, the twentysomething wannabe socialite with a mother whose life's obsession is to be featured if only as a walk-on in an episode of The Real Housewives; Yasmin, the Bollywood beauty and celebrity chef who stops at nothing--including staging the assassination of one of her rivals at her restaurant opening--to get her own reality show; and Tristan, the thirtysomething trust fund kid who finds himself--not entirely reluctantly--in the midst of reality show madness. There is also Matt, the entrepreneur who uses his family inheritance to start up an international drug trafficking operation, and his mother, Candace, the North Shore socialite and philanthropist who contracts a South African mercenary to end the rather unwholesome intentions of an unwanted future daughter-in-law.
If this sounds like farce, it is. The novel is meant as a social satire, an expose if you will on today's pop culture. Only a couple of these characters get what they want and when they get it, perhaps they realize that life in front of the cameras isn't what they had hoped it to be. The price they pay is enormous. "Birds of Dreams" is funny, irreverent, gossipy and vulgar. The reader may be repulsed by these characters while secretly admiring their tenacity. The novel isn't high art. It isn't going to change or inspire the reader to do great deeds. It's sole intent is entertainment. We may laugh at them, we may hate them, we may even finds ourselves egging them on. In short, the reader does exactly what we do when we watch any number of the reality shows that take up increasing space on our DVRs. The novel appeals to our worst fascinations and our compulsive need to "watch what happens...live."
Ciao.
QUESTION OF THE DAY: "What is your favorite reality TV show...and why?"
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