By David Templeton

“Happy New Year,” says Daedalus Howell, author and journalist, toasting with a glass of his favorite, delicious red wine. “I’ve really been looking forward to talking about Spotlight, ever since I first saw it in November.” Howell, a Petaluma native, has spent years in Hollywood (his IMDB profile is crammed with short films bearing unusual names), followed by a stint running a marketing media company in Sonoma, before resettling in his home town, where we are meeting now to talk about the acclaimed newspaper-themed movie—nominated for Best Film and a slew of other Oscars. It’s the true story of the Boston Globe’s elite team of investigative reporters, called Spotlight, and how they busted the Catholic Church for covering up hundreds of incidents of child abuse in Boston and beyond.

“It’s been a couple of months since I first saw Spotlight,” Howell says, “but it really had a huge and immediate impact on me—as a longtime journalist who’s been wondering for a while if the newspaper business is still all that relevant.”

It’s a question shared by the protagonist of Howell’s new novel, Quantum Deadline, which he’ll be reading from at Mill Valley’s Depot Bookstore and Cafe on Thursday, February 25, at 7pm. The hard-to-categorize novel, a kind of nourishing, comedic, satirical sci-fi mystery is about a disgraced newspaper journalist—also named Daedalus Howell—who encounters an adolescent thief from another universe and sets out on a mission to find the truth, save the boy from an evil technology kingpin, dodge the killers sent to stop him and possibly file the story before deadline.

“What appealed to me more than anything about Spotlight,” says Howell, “was the vibe of the movie. The idea that journalism is meaningful and can change lives for the better. That’s an idea I once had, but it’s an idea that’s been lost to me for some time. Spotlight, this movie about journalists doing journalism—making calls, knocking on doors, going through records, talking to people, whatever it takes to get the story—this movie brought that back to me front and center, and made me a believer again in the possibilities of journalism.

“It also highlighted the potential ridiculousness of my own career, which has mostly been arts and entertainment journalism,” he continues. “Yes, there have been some forays into hard news, but those experiences have been few and far between. As a consequence of this movie, it’s really inspired me to want to do something more significant.”

Howell pauses a moment, then laughs.

“But, you know, first I have to finish promoting my science-fiction novel about people from other dimensions,” he says, illustrating the struggle of artistic people who have crazy, creative ideas, and still want to do something that actually matters. “So, let’s drink to contradictions.”

“To contradictions,” I echo, lifting my glass.

Howell, of course, is not alone.

I too, a lifelong arts and entertainment writer, was forced to analyze the relative importance of covering film festivals, theatrical world premieres, book signings and puppet show adaptations of Shakespeare tragedies, when I might instead be rooting out corruption and forcing tearful confessions from guilty perpetrators.

“I think Spotlight has had that effect on every journalist,” Howell says. “I think it’s reminded us that, even in a world where most people would rather click on lists of which celebrities are using which skin product, there is still meaningful journalism, journalism of consequence, that is out there to do. And perhaps we should try to do better.

“Not to denigrate anything that any of our colleagues are doing, including you and me,” he goes on, “but there’s been a certain lack of deep diving in most of the journalism I see these days. I think that the powers that be have forgotten that that’s our job, to find those stories, and get those stories into the hands of our readers.”

“But is that what the readers want?” I ask.

Who, beside journalists and film critics, have really felt the inky excitement generated by director Tom McCarthy’s love letter to the hardworking reporters who, against all odds, battled intense opposition to tell the public about an unspeakable injustice? Spotlight, after all, has made just $32 million in 80 days, a mere fraction of what The Revenant—with it’s brutal bear attack and graphic horse disembowelments—has made in a third of that time. How much can people care about the future of good journalism if they didn’t even bother to see the best movie about the subject since All the President’s Men?

“It doesn’t matter,” Howell replies. “It’s OK if only journalists went to see Spotlight, because it’s those journalists who can then say something about it in public. They can be inspired to dig a little deeper, to not give into despair and to keep telling the stories that need to be told.

“Even if you and I are the only two people in the North Bay who saw that film,” he adds, “it’s OK, because at least we’re very ‘blabby.’ We talk a lot, and we have our fingers on the keyboards, so even if just a few people read us, the word will still get out there. And that word is not just, ‘Go see Spotlight, people!’

“The word is, ‘Demand more of your journalists! Demand more of the coverage you get from your newspapers or the website you get your news from. Yeah, print may be dead, or dying or in a coma.

“And journalism may be changing,” he says, “but it’s still alive. And it still matters. And it’s up to all of us to keep it that way.

“So let’s drink to that.”

Yeah. Let’s drink to that.

By Rob Brezsny

ARIES (March 21-April 19): The next four weeks could potentially be a Golden Age of Friendship … a State of Grace for Your Web of Connections … a Lucky Streak for Collaborative Efforts. What can you do to ensure that these cosmic tendencies will actually be fulfilled? Try this: Deepen and refine your approach to schmoozing. Figure out what favors would be most fun for you to bestow, and bestow them. Don’t socialize aimlessly with random gadabouts, but rather gravitate toward people with whom you share high ideals and strong intentions.

TAURUS (April 20-May 20): On a clear day, if you stand at the summit of Costa Rica’s Mount Irazú, you can see both the Atlantic and Pacific oceans. It’s not hard to get there. You can hop a tourist bus in the nearby city of San José, and be 11,200 feet high two hours later. This is a good model for your next assignment: Head off on a stress-free jaunt to a place that affords you a vast vista. If you can’t literally do that, at least slip away to a fun sanctuary where you’ll be inspired to think big thoughts about your long-range prospects. You need a break from everything that shrinks or numbs you.

GEMINI (May 21-June 20): A filmmaker working on a major movie typically shoots no more than four pages of the script per day. A director for a TV show may shoot eight pages. But I suspect that the story of your life in the near future may barrel through the equivalent of 20 pages of script every 24 hours. The next chapter is especially action-packed. The plot twists and mood swings will be coming at a rapid clip. This doesn’t have to be a problem as long as you are primed for high adventure. How? Take good care of your basic physical and emotional needs so you’ll be in top shape to enjoy the boisterous ride.

CANCER (June 21-July 22): The city of Paris offers formal tours of its vast sewer system. Commenting at an online travel site, one tourist gave the experience five stars. “It’s a great change of pace from museums full of art,” she wrote. Another visitor said, “It’s an interesting detour from the cultural overload that Paris can present.” According to a third, “There is a slight smell but it isn’t overpowering. It’s a fascinating look at how Paris handles wastewater treatment and clean water supply.” I bring this up, Cancerian, because now is a favorable time for you to take a break from bright, shiny pleasures and embark on a tour of your psyche’s subterranean maze. Regard it not as a scary challenge, but as a fact-finding exploration. What strategies do you have in place to deal with the messy, broken, secret stuff in your life? Take an inventory.

LEO (July 23-Aug. 22): “When I look at a sunset, I don’t say, ‘Soften the orange a little on the right-hand corner, and put a bit more purple in the cloud color.’” Pioneering psychologist Carl Rogers was describing the way that he observed the world. “I don’t try to control a sunset,” he continued. “I watch it with awe.” He had a similar view about people. “One of the most satisfying experiences,” he said, “is just fully to appreciate an individual in the same way I appreciate a sunset.” Your assignment, Leo, is to try out Rogers’ approach. Your emotional well-being will thrive as you refrain from trying to “improve” people—as you see and enjoy them for who they are.

VIRGO (Aug. 23-Sept. 22): The future is headed your way in a big hurry. It may not be completely here for a few weeks, but even then it will have arrived ahead of schedule. Should you be alarmed? Should you work yourself into an agitated state and draw premature conclusions? Hell, no! Treat this sudden onrush of tomorrow as a bracing opportunity to be as creative as you dare. Cultivate a beginner’s mind. Be alert for unexpected openings that you assumed would take longer to appear.

LIBRA (Sept. 23-Oct. 22): More than one-third of all pregnancies are unintended. The two people involved aren’t actually trying to make a baby, but their contraceptive measure fails or isn’t used at all. According to my analysis, you heterosexual Libras are now more prone to this accidental experience than usual. And in general, Libras of every sexual preference must be careful and precise about what seeds they plant in the coming weeks. The new growth you instigate is likely to have far-reaching consequences. So don’t let your choice be reckless or unconscious. Formulate clear intentions. What do you want to give your love to for a long time?

SCORPIO (Oct. 23-Nov. 21): I was a rock musician for years, which meant that I rarely went to bed before dawn. I used to brag that my work schedule was from 9 to 5—9pm to 5am, that is. Even after I stopped performing regularly, I loved keeping those hours. It was exhilarating to be abuzz when everyone else was asleep. But two months ago, I began an experiment to transform my routine. Now I awake with the dawn. I spend the entire day consorting with the source of all life on earth, the sun. If you have been contemplating a comparable shift in your instinctual life, Scorpio—any fundamental alteration in your relationship to food, drink, exercise, sleep, perception, laughter, lovemaking—the next few weeks will be a favorable time to do it.

SAGITTARIUS (Nov. 22-Dec. 21): You Sagittarians are often praised but also sometimes criticized for being such connoisseurs of spontaneity. Many of us admire your flair for unplanned adventure, even though we may flinch when you unleash it. You inspire us and also make us nervous as you respond to changing circumstances with unpremeditated creativity. I expect all of these issues to be hot topics in the coming weeks. You are in a phase of your cycle when your improvisational flourishes will be in the spotlight. I, for one, promise to learn all that I can from the interesting detours that result from your delight in experimentation.

CAPRICORN (Dec. 22-Jan. 19): Capricorn world-changer Martin Luther King, Jr. was arrested and sent to jail on 29 different occasions. His crimes? Drawing inspiration from his Christian faith, he employed nonviolent civil disobedience to secure basic civil rights for African-Americans. He believed so fiercely in his righteous cause that he was willing to sacrifice his personal comfort again and again. The coming months will be a favorable time to devote yourself to a comparable goal, Capricorn. And now is a good time to intensify your commitment. I dare you to take a vow.

AQUARIUS (Jan. 20-Feb. 18): The birds known as mound-builders are born more mature than other species. As soon as they peck themselves out of their eggs, they are well-coordinated, vigorous enough to hunt and capable of flight. Right now I see a resemblance between them and many of you Aquarians. As soon as you hatch your new plans or projects—which won’t be long now—you will be ready to operate at almost full strength. I bet there won’t be false starts or rookie mistakes, nor will you need extensive rehearsal. Like the mound-builders, you’ll be primed for an early launch.

PISCES (Feb. 19-March 20): You are not purely and simply a Pisces, because although the sun was in that astrological sign when you were born, at least some of the other planets were in different signs. This fact is a good reminder that everything everywhere is a complex web of subtlety and nuance. It’s delusional to think that anyone or anything can be neatly definable. Of course it’s always important to keep this in mind, but it’s even more crucial than usual for you to do so in the coming weeks. You are entering a phase when the best way to thrive is to know in your gut that life is always vaster, wilder and more mysterious than it appears to be on the surface. If you revere the riddles, the riddles will be your sweet, strong allies.

Homework: Embark on a week-long crusade to raise the level of well-being everywhere you go. Be inspiring! Report results to FreeWillAstrology.com.

By Amy Alkon

Q: I’m a woman in my 40s, and I’ve been happily married for 22 years. Unfortunately, my husband and I have never been very compatible sexually. I had read so much Cosmo in college that I believed sex was something we could work on. Well, he is quick in the sack and uninterested in my pleasure. It’s been two decades of “Wham, bam, thank you, ma’am,” and our old four minutes of intercourse now lasts for about two. And yes, I have asked him to attend to my needs—for years. He just blows me off. He’s always been satisfied, so he is not motivated to change. After a particularly quick encounter this morning left me feeling used, my thought was that I need a divorce. I’m distraught to think this way. Is there another option?—Unsatisfied

A: Sex can sometimes be confusing, but timewise, it shouldn’t leave you wondering whether you’ve been having it or poaching an egg.

There is only so much room for improvement if, in bed, two people go together like peanut butter and an oar. Still, Cosmo wasn’t entirely wrong. Sexual technique can be tweaked at least somewhat by working on it—that is, if both partners show up to the office and admit that there’s a job to do. And then there’s your husband, dead set on continuing to have sex on the “success in bank robbery” model: In and out before anybody knows what hit ’em.

Though your sex face is obviously a frown, the big issue here isn’t bad sex; it’s bad love. You don’t seem to see it that way, perhaps due to “cognitive dissonance.” That’s social psychologist Leon Festinger’s term for the psychological discomfort of simultaneously holding two conflicting views—like the belief that you’re worthy of love and the observation that your husband’s about as attentive to you in bed as he is to the headboard. To smooth out an inconsistency like this, we typically grab for whichever explanation helps us feel good about ourselves—which is maybe why you describe yourself as “happily married” to a man who acts like the clitoris is a rare exotic bird.

If, outside of bed, he’s actually loving enough for you to want to fix this, you might say something like, “I love you and want to save our marriage, but I feel deeply unloved whenever we have sex.” Explain that if he isn’t willing to take steps to change, you don’t think you can stay with him. Specify the steps, like practice sessions in which you show him what you like and maybe some get-togethers with a sex therapist (a referee to call him on his sense of sexual entitlement).

Even if he were to agree to all of it, be realistic. Sex might start feeling more like being made love to than being bumped into by a naked man, but it’s unlikely to ever be mind-blowing or anything close. Still, you might be happy if you just see that he cares enough to make an effort in bed—one leisurely enough that you don’t expect it to be followed by “meep meep!” and a cartoon cloud of dust.

Q: This guy I’m dating had a mean, demanding girlfriend, and it left him kind of a relationship-phobe. He says meeting me two months ago made him want to change that. He is loving and seems excited to be with me, except for how he introduces me—as his “friend” or “ladyfriend.” Should I be worried that he doesn’t call me his girlfriend?—Irked

A: It’s easy to go straight to all the worst reasons for why he won’t call you his girlfriend, like that it would seem disloyal to that secret wife he has stashed away in the suburbs.

However, keep in mind that a label (like “girlfriend”) isn’t just a word. Labels actually have power over our behavior. Research by social psychologist Elliot Aronson finds that we seem to have a powerful longing for consistency—for things to match. So, committing to a label tends to make us feel obligated to follow through with the behavior that goes with it—and never mind figuring out whether it’s what we really want.

Give the guy some time. He’s (understandably!) slow to do a cannonball into a new relationship, but you say he is “loving” and seems “excited” to be with you. So, sure, he may be on the fence, but he doesn’t seem to be on the run. Until his answer to, “What are we doing here?” is no longer, “Not sure yet,” you might ask him to drop the likes of “ladyfriend” and just use your name—charming as it is to be introduced with what sounds like 19th century code for “two-dollar hooker.”

By Richard von Busack

A straight-up Kickstarter-funded anomaly, Anomalisa, by Charlie Kaufman (with co-director Duke Johnson) is touching but transitory. In Cincinnati in 2005, Michael (voiced by David Thewlis) comes to the Hotel Fregoli to address a convention; he’s the author of the bestselling customer-service book How May I Help You Help Them? This expert in the technology of smiling self-effacement is, in a word, miserable—“I think I have a psychological problem,” he confesses to a woman whom he dropped hard 10 years previously for no reason. After he has an anxiety attack that wakes up some of the guests, Michael goes drinking in the hotel bar with two female fans—a big and bawdy blonde Emily and her shy pal Lisa, voiced by a very endearing Jennifer Jason Leigh.

That Michael and Lisa will end up together is plain—Michael needs her, and she is longing to be needed. She has one more attractive quality: Her salient feature is that she sounds different than anyone else. (All voices in the film that aren’t performed by Leigh and Thewlis are done by Tom Noonan, whether the characters are male or female). A clue: The Hotel Fregoli is named after the psychiatric term a “Fregoli Delusion”—the belief that every stranger you encounter is actually someone you know, in disguise.

There has been some fretting on the Internet about why a movie lacking in cartoony squash and stretch was done in the animated format. Animation usually equals exaggeration, but the lively art can be used for the reverse: As a way of removing nuance and facial expression, leaving the viewer with more questions to solve. Is Michael’s neurosis self-delusion? Is he just one more prowling married man exaggerating his melancholy, in hopes of attracting girls? Are his terrors and nightmares reflections of his guilt for straying from his wife?

But will you really want to find out? There are passages in Anomalisa as adroit as the best of Kaufman’s daydreamy scripts, such as Adaptation, and Being John Malkovich. The delicacy of touch and focus is visible throughout. Odd that one of the most tender lovemaking scenes of the year involved puppets—seen in their anatomically correct, awkward coupling a decent distance away from the bed.

But as per Lost in Translation, this is a story that might be more keen to a celebrity than a film audience. Michael’s problems as an Englishman in a too aggressively friendly, too insanely cheerful America are, in essence, a famous person’s complaints about the price of fame. It’s the old story of flinching through all the unwanted attention, like raw oysters shivering under the lemon juice.