Numero Uno

Well, folks, it's official. After 150+ weeks as #2, Rafael Nadal has just become the #1 tennis player in the world. He has finally overtaken Roger Federer, who was #1 for an unprecedented 235 consecutive weeks. That's right, Rafael is numero uno. Can I get a "Vamos!?" That's some impressive stuff.

I've been cheering for Rafa for a long time, not because I wanted Federer to lose... more because I was tired of the Federer victory seeming like the inevitable conclusion to each and every match, not to mention each and every tournament. But after the display Rafa has put on these past few months, I'm wondering when I'll start to feel the same about him and will have to start rooting for Fed again!

Ah, the fickle world of a tennis fan. But I do so love it.

In other "numero uno" news, I finished reading one of the three books that I have to read. Lulu (see previous post) was an entertaining read. Someone described it as doing for the art world what "The Devil Wears Prada" did for the fashion industry--a sort of send-up of the whole art scene. Not knowing much about the art scene, I found it interesting and was compelled to read it quickly (which is good, because time's a'wasting). But I have to admit that the ending wasn't necessarily my favorite.

And therein lies my problem with books. Lately I find that I'm almost ALWAYS disappointed by the ending. I think it's why I gravitate to memoirs so often... because you can't really argue with what happened next in a real person's life... it simply is what it is.

But fiction, man, I don't know if I'm just getting picky or judgmental or finicky in my old(er) age, but I am tough to please all of a sudden! And if you know me at all, that's kind of surprising. I'm very rarely opinionated and I rarely offer a truly negative review of books/movies--I tend to offer broad brushstrokes of approval when others start nitpicking or dissecting something. I don't know if I just always try to find the good in things or always want to enjoy what I've just invested time in, I really don't know. But lately... with books... no one makes me happy.

• The girl gets the boy? "Too predictable; unrealistic."

• The girls loses the boy? "How depressing and unfair to this character I've come to appreciate."

• The mystery is what I thought it was? "Poorly written if I was able to figure it out."

• The mystery is something completely from left field? "A good author would have provided a few more clues."

Sheesh! I'm starting to get a complex. When did I become one of the grouchy old men up in the balcony on the Muppet Show!?

It all started when I began reading Jodi Picoult novels... I read them with a frenzy... one right after the other, because I found the stories and the storytelling so addictive. But I realized I was mad at almost all the endings. Including "My Sister's Keeper," which I still think is one of her best books, but which infuriated me to no end for the last 10 pages or so. I've actually gotten into debates with a co-worker who believes it to be the best book Jodi's written and a FABULOUS ending, which simply floors me. It is just ... NOT.

(To be fair, the ending of Picoult's "Keeping Faith" was GREAT. So I continue to read her books, hoping I'll enjoy them all as much as that one.)

But for the most part, lately I end up feeling tricked into devoting so much time and energy into a book only to be let down at the end.

I wouldn't say Lulu was a letdown. Only that I really didn't like the last line of the book. The very last line! Didn't get it. Didn't think it did the book justice. Didn't even think it was necessary. Ugh. So, all in all, I consider it a good book. But it's helped call into question my continually over-critical eye.

I think I need to lighten up.

OK... {shakes it off; prepares to begin "Running with Scissors;" hopes for a palatable ending}

In other, completely unrelated, numero uno news... my sister finished her dissertation today. That is, she hit save and considers it done. She actually has a lot of work yet to do this weekend to fine-tune it and make any changes that come in from her committee over the next two days, but she is mere days away from completing her PhD. And so, for all the accolades being heaped on Nadal as we speak, let's heap some on my dear sister who has worked so very hard. She's numero uno in my book. And I highly approve of an ending in which the deserving heroine makes it to the top of a challenging mountain and plants her flag of victory. Now that's an ending I can stand by. Vamos, Carolyn!