1. You must have something to say.
2. You must be desperate to say it.
4.18.2007
4.16.2007
The Portrait of a Lady, Henry James
Of course, finishing this book now, as opposed to my undergrad days when I should have read this, is rather embarrassing, but all I can say is: Wow! This novel ranks as one of my all-time favorites!
About one-third of the way into the novel, I was sucked into it and literally could not put it down. I imagine I will reread and the subsequent readings will only deepen and broaden my understanding of the novel.
I have much to say and research about Portrait, but one completely uninformed observation I wanted to comment on is the character development of Isabel Archer.
In the beginning third of the novel or so, the reader learns about Isabel through comments by the omnisicent narrator or through the other characters (usually dialogue. James, I noticed, likes to reveal characters by having other characters talk about them. A neat trick.). I was a little put off by this, because I was being told about Isabel rather than seeing her in action.
As I read on, I realized that James was allowing me to develop my own ideas about Isabel through these revelations. When it came time for Isabel to act on her own, the impact was powerful: All of the insights I took on as a reader came to fore and added depth and poignancy to the action.
At least, that was my impression.
I'd like to hear about this from others who have read this novel or James.
4.12.2007
Thoughts for Thursday
I had an insight about why I am buying and hoarding books like a squirrel with its acorns before a lean winter: I think I am searching for inspiration on my own novel.
On a very subliminal level, I know what I want to do. And, every once in a while, the fog clears, the clouds part, and I can see into that subliminal level (sort of looks like the bargain basement at Filene's), and my rational mind can pick out the gem of insight from amongst the clutter. And everything comes together, purposes seem clear, the tunnel-end opens into illumination.
But, in general, my unconscious works in its own mysterious, murky and fascinating way. Which means my greedy, ever-grasping, impetuous mind has to wait and let the intuitive part work in its own fashion, in its own good time. Which makes for a schizoid-feeling LK.
This waiting and percolating part really bugs the Conscious Me. There is always that niggling fear of "I'll never write again." But, as the years have taught me, there is nothing to do but be patient.
On a very subliminal level, I know what I want to do. And, every once in a while, the fog clears, the clouds part, and I can see into that subliminal level (sort of looks like the bargain basement at Filene's), and my rational mind can pick out the gem of insight from amongst the clutter. And everything comes together, purposes seem clear, the tunnel-end opens into illumination.
But, in general, my unconscious works in its own mysterious, murky and fascinating way. Which means my greedy, ever-grasping, impetuous mind has to wait and let the intuitive part work in its own fashion, in its own good time. Which makes for a schizoid-feeling LK.
This waiting and percolating part really bugs the Conscious Me. There is always that niggling fear of "I'll never write again." But, as the years have taught me, there is nothing to do but be patient.
RIP Kurt Vonnegut
This is very sad news: Novelist Kurt Vonnegut dies at 84
Certainly, he was one of the great lights of contemporary American literature.
Some quotes from Vonnegut:
I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center.
If you can do a half-assed job of anything, you're a one-eyed man in a kingdom of the blind.
Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.
Life happens too fast for you ever to think about it. If you could just persuade people of this, but they insist on amassing information.
Certainly, he was one of the great lights of contemporary American literature.
Some quotes from Vonnegut:
I want to stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. Out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center.
If you can do a half-assed job of anything, you're a one-eyed man in a kingdom of the blind.
Laughter and tears are both responses to frustration and exhaustion. I myself prefer to laugh, since there is less cleaning up to do afterward.
Life happens too fast for you ever to think about it. If you could just persuade people of this, but they insist on amassing information.
4.10.2007
New Edith Wharton biography
Everyone get in line to order the latest bio on one of America's major female authoresses. Check out what John Updike has to say in The New Yorker:
Lee is at her best with Wharton’s books. Her close and ingenious explications reveal formal patterns of design and persuasive, sometimes subtle connections with Wharton’s experiences; as with most authors, her life was her ultimate subject, whether she was projecting her imprisoning marriage and thwarted romance into the rural misery of “Ethan Frome” or using her own broad experience of authorship in the wide-ranging satire of “Hudson River Bracketed.” Lee gives the later, critically shunned novels respectful readings, and is keen enough on the short stories to rouse guilt in a susceptible breast over their less than canonical status.
Other reviews: UK Guardian, London Times
Hermione Lee on Edith Wharton short stories
Edith Wharton In the News
Lee is at her best with Wharton’s books. Her close and ingenious explications reveal formal patterns of design and persuasive, sometimes subtle connections with Wharton’s experiences; as with most authors, her life was her ultimate subject, whether she was projecting her imprisoning marriage and thwarted romance into the rural misery of “Ethan Frome” or using her own broad experience of authorship in the wide-ranging satire of “Hudson River Bracketed.” Lee gives the later, critically shunned novels respectful readings, and is keen enough on the short stories to rouse guilt in a susceptible breast over their less than canonical status.
Other reviews: UK Guardian, London Times
Hermione Lee on Edith Wharton short stories
Edith Wharton In the News
4.09.2007
What I'm reading
As I am in the midst of reading several interesting books (and far away from finishing them), thought I'd share what is in the NBR (now-being-read) pile.
Portrait of a Lady. I'm about a third of the way through. The story and characterizations are fully engrossing. Based on this and Turn of the Screw, I note that one device James employs is the repetition of words or phrases. I don't know if that is conscious or not, but I suspect on some level it is. For example, in this book, I am underlining the words "lady" or "young lady," and they appear every other chapter at least. In Turn of the Screw, the catch-phrase was "innocent." I believe James is examining (or, at least, presenting) the various meanings such words or phrases can hold, and then letting the layers build. Another observation: James is not the most mellifluous of prose writers, is he? His sentences often are murky, convoluted and awkward. Despite this, his characters deepen and his plots thicken.
Ghost Hunters. Oh, yes, something light! And still in the Victorian age -- and related to the James family! This is about the movement, led by Henry James's brother William, to study psychic phenomena at a time when religion and science were polarized into two camps. These folk were trying to bridge the gap and at least open the dialogue between what is known and what is taken on faith.
Making of Victorian Values. Not too deep yet into this book, but it all relates quite nicely with Portrait and Ghost Hunters. Something happened during the Victorian Age that I believe is parallel to a sea-change that is happening now: A questioning in how we look at morality and ethics, and how religion and science fit into that.
Autobiography of Margaret Oliphant. A slim book, and a bit difficult to find. I'm about two-thirds of the way through. It is an odd little book, because Oliphant took her whole life to write it. She wrote a bit, then put the book away for many years, then picked it up again, put it away for years, etc. But it's very touching. In the first part of the book, she deals with absolutely devastating personal events (namely, the death of her only daughter and namesake and of her son. All except one of her six children, I believe, predeceased her.) honestly and nakedly; reading the account is as painful as looking at a raw wound. In the last third of the book, she writes in an objectified, distant way -- "then this happened," "then that happened." Both styles are legitimate and effective; it's just sort of unusual to have them jammed together in the same book. (The explanation is that the book was published posthumously; the author obviously didn't shape the narrative.)
I did manage to finish one novel: And Then We Came to an End. This is a smart and funny examination of the corporate culture in America. I really enjoyed how the author used the corporate "we" as a narrator for most of the book. Highly recommended!
Portrait of a Lady. I'm about a third of the way through. The story and characterizations are fully engrossing. Based on this and Turn of the Screw, I note that one device James employs is the repetition of words or phrases. I don't know if that is conscious or not, but I suspect on some level it is. For example, in this book, I am underlining the words "lady" or "young lady," and they appear every other chapter at least. In Turn of the Screw, the catch-phrase was "innocent." I believe James is examining (or, at least, presenting) the various meanings such words or phrases can hold, and then letting the layers build. Another observation: James is not the most mellifluous of prose writers, is he? His sentences often are murky, convoluted and awkward. Despite this, his characters deepen and his plots thicken.
Ghost Hunters. Oh, yes, something light! And still in the Victorian age -- and related to the James family! This is about the movement, led by Henry James's brother William, to study psychic phenomena at a time when religion and science were polarized into two camps. These folk were trying to bridge the gap and at least open the dialogue between what is known and what is taken on faith.
Making of Victorian Values. Not too deep yet into this book, but it all relates quite nicely with Portrait and Ghost Hunters. Something happened during the Victorian Age that I believe is parallel to a sea-change that is happening now: A questioning in how we look at morality and ethics, and how religion and science fit into that.
Autobiography of Margaret Oliphant. A slim book, and a bit difficult to find. I'm about two-thirds of the way through. It is an odd little book, because Oliphant took her whole life to write it. She wrote a bit, then put the book away for many years, then picked it up again, put it away for years, etc. But it's very touching. In the first part of the book, she deals with absolutely devastating personal events (namely, the death of her only daughter and namesake and of her son. All except one of her six children, I believe, predeceased her.) honestly and nakedly; reading the account is as painful as looking at a raw wound. In the last third of the book, she writes in an objectified, distant way -- "then this happened," "then that happened." Both styles are legitimate and effective; it's just sort of unusual to have them jammed together in the same book. (The explanation is that the book was published posthumously; the author obviously didn't shape the narrative.)
I did manage to finish one novel: And Then We Came to an End. This is a smart and funny examination of the corporate culture in America. I really enjoyed how the author used the corporate "we" as a narrator for most of the book. Highly recommended!
4.06.2007
Friday Buzz - Becoming Jane
I hate the thought of Anne Hathaway starring as Jane Austen in a movie about Jane Austen. Hathaway was too insipid even for the intrinsic insipidness of The Devil Wears Prada. I can't even imagine that she'll do justice to the Empire-waist fashion, much less the great authoress herself.
And now I suppose we'll see Hathaway's doe eyes and pouty lips on all future editions of Jane Austen novels. Publishers apparently are already touching up images of Austen, tarting poor old Jane up like the media whore they want her to be.
Verlyn Klinkenborg (with a name like that, she had to be a writer! Go, Veryln!) poses the sensible question in a New York Times op-ed piece: Why should we care what Jane Austen looked like? As Verlyn says, "No amount of biography — no grasp of the details of the life as it was lived — ever accounts for the transfiguration that takes place in the work itself. You can search all you want in the life, but you will never find the ghostly separateness, the act of imagination, in which the work emerges." Maybe it's a good thing few letters and no diaries of Austen's survive; her work truly must stand on its own, independent of a possible dumpy physique or bad temper or unfortunate habit like nail-biting.
I liked what Verlyn had to say about reading, too:
One of the great pleasures of a reading life is picking up an old, familiar novel thinking that rereading it will mean a kind of reminding, when, in fact, the novel makes itself new all over again. It is as if the novel holds itself apart, waiting for real life to erase enough in us to make us suitable readers once more.
I think that's exactly why I have a hard time letting go of my books.
And now I suppose we'll see Hathaway's doe eyes and pouty lips on all future editions of Jane Austen novels. Publishers apparently are already touching up images of Austen, tarting poor old Jane up like the media whore they want her to be.
Verlyn Klinkenborg (with a name like that, she had to be a writer! Go, Veryln!) poses the sensible question in a New York Times op-ed piece: Why should we care what Jane Austen looked like? As Verlyn says, "No amount of biography — no grasp of the details of the life as it was lived — ever accounts for the transfiguration that takes place in the work itself. You can search all you want in the life, but you will never find the ghostly separateness, the act of imagination, in which the work emerges." Maybe it's a good thing few letters and no diaries of Austen's survive; her work truly must stand on its own, independent of a possible dumpy physique or bad temper or unfortunate habit like nail-biting.
I liked what Verlyn had to say about reading, too:
One of the great pleasures of a reading life is picking up an old, familiar novel thinking that rereading it will mean a kind of reminding, when, in fact, the novel makes itself new all over again. It is as if the novel holds itself apart, waiting for real life to erase enough in us to make us suitable readers once more.
I think that's exactly why I have a hard time letting go of my books.
4.05.2007
Thoughts for Thursday - Kerouac haunts
Here are some places in North Beach, San Francisco, where Jack and the Beats hung out (and where I hung out on my anti-birthday)...
The new Beat Museum, across the street from Vesuvio's and City Lights. (Cool stuff: A check to a liquor store signed by Jack Kerouac and the original shirt worn by Neal Cassady when he drove Ken Kesey's bus Furthur.)
City Lights Bookstore on Columbus (and Jack Kerouac Alley)
Inside Vesuvio's, where the Beats got drunk.
The new Beat Museum, across the street from Vesuvio's and City Lights. (Cool stuff: A check to a liquor store signed by Jack Kerouac and the original shirt worn by Neal Cassady when he drove Ken Kesey's bus Furthur.)4.04.2007
April - Read a Classic Month
Hi, everybody, I'm baaaack. Anti-birthday birthday was great: Good food, good company, good hiking and just enough drinks to keep me merry.Many, many thanks for your good wishes!
Now, we're into April (already???!!!) Time for me to report on my essay reading for March and prepare for a month of classics.
I finished only the Woolf essay book in its entirety, but managed to read essays by a range of authors, including Berlin, Emerson (Self-Reliance) and Didion. I wish I could expound on Emerson as eloquently as Dorothy W. or Stefanie, but, alas, I simply feel to harried to think that deeply. (Even as I type this, I must hurry off to my third meeting of the day.)
Heading into the classics month, I narrowed my choices to two:
1. In the Shadow of Young Girls in Flower by Marcel Proust
2. Portrait of a Lady by Henry James
Holy cow, that's a lot of reading! I am looking forward to them both.
In other reading notes: Just started The Making of Victorian Values by Ben Wilson. I am going to try to fit this in with my classics reading for the month. Cross your fingers that my eyes hold out!
3.29.2007
Thoughts for Thursday - Ti(red)
Tomorrow is my birthday -- well, anti-birthday. I refuse to have a birthday this year. Theoretically.
As birthdays do, this one got me to reflecting upon the year past. It seems to me that the American culture in general has gone into hyperspeed. I don't think I'm the only person who feels that way, either.
How it affects me is that I do not have time (or energy) to reflect and think, and that in turn affects my quality of life. (I can even see a degradation in my blog posts over the past dozen months, from lengthy and rather complex to quick and dirty.) What to do to change the dynamic...? Answer is not clear yet.
First things first: I'm taking a few days off. I'll be doing some fun things to celebrate my anti-birthday (yes, you can still celebrate, even if it's an anti-birthday) and generally slacking.
So, see you soon. Until my next post, here is a link you might enjoy perusing.
As birthdays do, this one got me to reflecting upon the year past. It seems to me that the American culture in general has gone into hyperspeed. I don't think I'm the only person who feels that way, either.
How it affects me is that I do not have time (or energy) to reflect and think, and that in turn affects my quality of life. (I can even see a degradation in my blog posts over the past dozen months, from lengthy and rather complex to quick and dirty.) What to do to change the dynamic...? Answer is not clear yet.
First things first: I'm taking a few days off. I'll be doing some fun things to celebrate my anti-birthday (yes, you can still celebrate, even if it's an anti-birthday) and generally slacking.
So, see you soon. Until my next post, here is a link you might enjoy perusing.
3.28.2007
I am not a big fantasy/sci-fi buff, never have been. I figure this world has enough interesting people and plots to deal with; why add distant planets or goofy names to the mix? But, I'm trying.I think I'll check out the Best American Fantasy 2006 for starters. (Here's a sneak peak, via Edward Champion.)
Then there's Carl V.'s Once Upon a Time Challenge (god, I love Carl's challenges!). He has listed some damned fine choices (I also think Kailana chooses some good examples of the genre.) While I cannot devote so much time to the entire challenge, I thought I'd try one or two. (I hope Kate Mosse's Labyrinth counts, since I already have that one.) I'll sleuth around and see if something, anything strikes my fancy.
It's perfectly okay to have strong reading preferences, and I certainly don't want to waste my time on crap when there are so many classics I need to read but...doesn't hurt to keep an open mind. Who knows? I might develop a taste for intergalactic romance or Hobbity type creatures. Anything's possible.
3.26.2007
10 (+2) Books I Couldn't Live Without
I should subtitle this: "10 books that make me want to write." Because I cannot separate "books I cannot live without" from books that influence me as a writer: The two activities, for me, are irrevocably intertwined.
These are books that use language, plot and/or character in delightful and astonishing ways, that engross me even upon multiple readings, that make me gloriously happy and terribly humbled over the human capacity for language. The +2 are books that I loved as a young reader. In some way, these books touched my core and spoke some truth. I hope, too, that I have many books left to add to my list.
This is for Kailana, who asked the provocative question in the first place. (No particular order).
1. Jane Eyre
2. Pride and Prejudice
3. Swann’s Way
4. Shakespearean Sonnets (or, to really cheat, Collected Works of Shakespeare)
5. On the Road
6. Collected Poems by Sylvia Plath
7. Bleak House
8. To the Lighthouse
9. Anna Karenina
10. Crime & Punishment
+2:
Little Women
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
These are books that use language, plot and/or character in delightful and astonishing ways, that engross me even upon multiple readings, that make me gloriously happy and terribly humbled over the human capacity for language. The +2 are books that I loved as a young reader. In some way, these books touched my core and spoke some truth. I hope, too, that I have many books left to add to my list.
This is for Kailana, who asked the provocative question in the first place. (No particular order).
1. Jane Eyre
2. Pride and Prejudice
3. Swann’s Way
4. Shakespearean Sonnets (or, to really cheat, Collected Works of Shakespeare)
5. On the Road
6. Collected Poems by Sylvia Plath
7. Bleak House
8. To the Lighthouse
9. Anna Karenina
10. Crime & Punishment
+2:
Little Women
A Tree Grows in Brooklyn
3.23.2007
Friday Buzz - Didion on Broadway
This is either going to be really, really bad or really, really good. Plus: Vanessa Redgrave. Minus: The theatre may have to close the balcony so people don't jump off of it.
Now, if YoMT is ever made into a TV movie starring Mary Tyler Moore -- then it will be official that Didion has sold out.
3.22.2007
Thoughts for Thursday - Book covers
As if you really could tell a book by its cover, publishers spend a lot of thought on cover design. There is even a web site dedicated to the subject! And, of course, when a publisher can nab a movie tie-in to the cover -- In Cold Blood and Pride & Prejudice come to mind -- the sales can be phenomenal. (My God, if you can add Johnny Depp to the mix, you might just trump Donald Trump in annual earnings.)
But does a cover really sell a book?
I would like to think I am above all the crass commercialism and shameless huckstering. Buying a book strictly because of a pretty cover is like buying a McRib Sandwich because of the blinking menu sign at the drive-through. Or shopping at Wal-Mart.
Logically, I tell myself as I enter a bookstore and inhale a whiff of fresh ink and crisp paper, I seek books of compelling content, written by elite authors. As I peruse the shelves, a quirky and interesting title might inspire me to read the dustjacket and critical blurbs. Otherwise, I'm discerning. I'm in charge. I'm an informed consumer.
That's what I tell myself.
I had one experience, however, in which a cover impelled me to buy the book. It was Jonathan Safran Foer's Everything is Illuminated. As I moved through the portal of a reputable independent bookseller, a book with an acid-green cover and pink lettering caught my eye. In fact, a literal phalanx of these books barricaded one entire wall of the reputable independent bookstore in a dazzling burst of neon: blues and oranges and yellows. The same book, different color combinations. Could this bold marketing strategy be heralding the launch of a new literary voice? Perhaps the publisher was communicating to me: This is something "New" and EXCITING and innovative, the Next Generation's shouted mantra, an Enlightened Messenger arriving in a hallucinogenic spectrum of spilled ink. This was the prose you've been searching for since A Confederacy of Dunces. The cover told the story!
I behaved exactly like a sucker. I got into line, barely glancing at the contents, and handed over my hard-earned dollars. When I got home, I immediately opened it up and began reading.
Jesus. Another bull$hit self-conscious meta-fiction piece of crap.
Now my face was neon pink with bile-green tinges.
Would I be hustled again? Oh, yes. By titles (The Devil Wears Prada) and blurbs (The Ruins of California) and most definitely by that biggest Sucker Magnet of all, The Pre-eminent Award List. But, by George (Eliot), not by a pretty face.
Which leads me to my pointless reader poll: Do you judge a book by its cover? Have you ever bought a book for inglorious reasons? Did you ever get hooked just by a title or blurb? Tell your story and win...well, nothing. But you will feel that guilt lift from the depths of your literary soul, I promise.
But does a cover really sell a book?
I would like to think I am above all the crass commercialism and shameless huckstering. Buying a book strictly because of a pretty cover is like buying a McRib Sandwich because of the blinking menu sign at the drive-through. Or shopping at Wal-Mart.
Logically, I tell myself as I enter a bookstore and inhale a whiff of fresh ink and crisp paper, I seek books of compelling content, written by elite authors. As I peruse the shelves, a quirky and interesting title might inspire me to read the dustjacket and critical blurbs. Otherwise, I'm discerning. I'm in charge. I'm an informed consumer.
That's what I tell myself.
I had one experience, however, in which a cover impelled me to buy the book. It was Jonathan Safran Foer's Everything is Illuminated. As I moved through the portal of a reputable independent bookseller, a book with an acid-green cover and pink lettering caught my eye. In fact, a literal phalanx of these books barricaded one entire wall of the reputable independent bookstore in a dazzling burst of neon: blues and oranges and yellows. The same book, different color combinations. Could this bold marketing strategy be heralding the launch of a new literary voice? Perhaps the publisher was communicating to me: This is something "New" and EXCITING and innovative, the Next Generation's shouted mantra, an Enlightened Messenger arriving in a hallucinogenic spectrum of spilled ink. This was the prose you've been searching for since A Confederacy of Dunces. The cover told the story!
I behaved exactly like a sucker. I got into line, barely glancing at the contents, and handed over my hard-earned dollars. When I got home, I immediately opened it up and began reading.
Jesus. Another bull$hit self-conscious meta-fiction piece of crap.
Now my face was neon pink with bile-green tinges.
Would I be hustled again? Oh, yes. By titles (The Devil Wears Prada) and blurbs (The Ruins of California) and most definitely by that biggest Sucker Magnet of all, The Pre-eminent Award List. But, by George (Eliot), not by a pretty face.
Which leads me to my pointless reader poll: Do you judge a book by its cover? Have you ever bought a book for inglorious reasons? Did you ever get hooked just by a title or blurb? Tell your story and win...well, nothing. But you will feel that guilt lift from the depths of your literary soul, I promise.
3.20.2007
Michael Chabon has a new book coming out (May). Yay.
Other cool books on the way:
Selected Letters of Philip K. Dick (June)
Flight: A Novel, Sherman Alexie (this month)
The Sea Lady, Margaret Drabble (May)
Alentejo Blue, Monica Ali (June)
The Gravedigger's Daughter, Joyce Carol Oates (May)
Up in Honey's Room, Elmore Leonard (May)
Stalin's Ghost, Martin Cruz Smith (April)
The Ministry of Special Cases, Nathan Englander (April)
Falling Man, Don DeLillo (June)
3.19.2007
Investigating Nancy Drew
Maybe it's just because I have the TBR Girl Sleuth: Nancy Drew and the Woman Who Created Her, but take a look at what are purported to be Nancy Drew dolls from Madame Alexander (circa 1967):
Tell me: Don't they look more like a funked-up version of a Ladybird Johnson collection than our Titian-haired detective? These gals look like they couldn't find their way to a nail salon, much less solve the secret of the old clock.
Now, this is more like it:
Geez, if I only knew this existed, I would have asked Santa for one of these instead of dumb old Parcheesi.
3.15.2007
Thoughts for Thursday - Favorite film adaptations
It's Thursday, I've the bilious type of hangover, and surely this fluorescent overhead light is bad for my reproductive system. So, it's time for a list. Nothing like a list to restore order to chaos.
Today's list: Favorite film adaptations of books. Pretty easy. I'll do my Top 5. What makes all of these films work for me is that they don't detract from my enjoyment of the novels. I can watch the movies and enjoy the film genre, and I can go back to the book without the film version interfering. Pretty nifty. Now, I "tag" you to do your own list.
1. Jane Eyre (1944). Tagline: A Love Story Every Woman Would Die a Thousand Deaths to Live! Most memorable scene: When the young Jane wakes up to find Helen Burns dead.
Come on: Orson Welles, Joan Fontaine, Elizabeth Taylor, Margaret O'Brien, Agnes Moorehead. You can't beat the casting. And the cinematography evokes a grim stark Bronte-ness. Add a Bernard Hermann score--magic.
2. Gone with the Wind (1939). Tagline: The most magnificent picture ever! Most memorable scene: Scarlett entering the hospital ward in Atlanta, as the camera pans to show the hundreds of wounded men.
This is a no-brainer. Okay, after nearly 70 years, the film is starting to become dated, and, yes, with all of our newfound racial sensitivity, the treatment of blacks in this film makes one cringe. And, as for Clark Gable...frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. But Scarlett is still a compelling, flawed heroine, and Vivien Leigh does the mythic role justice.
(By the way, you notice I did not include another great film from 1939, Wizard of Oz. That's because I never read the book!)
3. A Christmas Carol (1938). Tagline: Greater than "David Copperfield" ! Most memorable scene: The skeletal finger of The Ghost of Christmas Past pointing to Scrooge's tombstone as Scrooge cringes on his knees.
You know, Dickens would have made a great screenwriter. There are myriad versions of this novella -- which just begs to be filmed -- but this one is my favorite. You can't beat its evocation of Victorian London. Sure, I would rather have seen Lionel Barrymore as Scrooge (he was originally cast, then I believe broke a foot). But Reginald Own fills the bill nicely. Look for a young June Lockhart among Bob Cratchett's brood.
4. Persuasion (1995). No tagline. Most memorable scene: The girl falling and clonking her head on the waterfront.
I actually saw the film before I read the novel -- which I normally avoid. But, the film did not detract from my discovery of the novel, yet it was also a very credible interpretation. No frills, no mainstream actors. Just a good, sensible, brooding rendering. Sort of like the book in the Austen canon.
5. A Room with a View (1986). No tagline. Most memorable scene: Lucy fainting in George Emerson's arms.
It's tough to live up to the book, but this film version does. Helena Bonham Carter perfectly captures Lucy Honeychurch's blend of snobbish affectedness and rebellious honesty, and Maggie Smith as Charlotte Bartlett is priceless. Daniel Day-Lewis (what the hell ever happened to him?) steals the show as Cecil. And the soundtrack is to die for. One of those movie experiences that leaves me sighing and reaching for a Baedeker.
...............
And, just to jerk your train of thought around like a carnival ride, I like this, from James Hynes. (Weird, 'cos just yesterday I ordered his book on a whim from Amazon.com.:::Play Twilight Zone theme here.)
I had an epiphany one soporific mid-morning when I stood up in my cubicle to stretch myself awake. Turning slowly in place, I scanned a complete 360 of the cube horizon. The scene was slightly underlit, and while I could hear all sorts of human activity—talking, phones ringing, keyboards clattering—I couldn’t see another living person. I felt as if I was working in a room full of ghosts. The alienation of cube life was suddenly revealed to me as something gothic, a variation on the creeping dread of a Poe character. I could be walled up alive inside my cubicle and no one would even notice—the Cube of Amontillado. Immediately I dropped to my seat and jotted down a paragraph that appears almost without revision in my new book, Kings of Infinite Space.
Today's list: Favorite film adaptations of books. Pretty easy. I'll do my Top 5. What makes all of these films work for me is that they don't detract from my enjoyment of the novels. I can watch the movies and enjoy the film genre, and I can go back to the book without the film version interfering. Pretty nifty. Now, I "tag" you to do your own list.
1. Jane Eyre (1944). Tagline: A Love Story Every Woman Would Die a Thousand Deaths to Live! Most memorable scene: When the young Jane wakes up to find Helen Burns dead.
Come on: Orson Welles, Joan Fontaine, Elizabeth Taylor, Margaret O'Brien, Agnes Moorehead. You can't beat the casting. And the cinematography evokes a grim stark Bronte-ness. Add a Bernard Hermann score--magic.
2. Gone with the Wind (1939). Tagline: The most magnificent picture ever! Most memorable scene: Scarlett entering the hospital ward in Atlanta, as the camera pans to show the hundreds of wounded men.
This is a no-brainer. Okay, after nearly 70 years, the film is starting to become dated, and, yes, with all of our newfound racial sensitivity, the treatment of blacks in this film makes one cringe. And, as for Clark Gable...frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. But Scarlett is still a compelling, flawed heroine, and Vivien Leigh does the mythic role justice.
(By the way, you notice I did not include another great film from 1939, Wizard of Oz. That's because I never read the book!)
3. A Christmas Carol (1938). Tagline: Greater than "David Copperfield" ! Most memorable scene: The skeletal finger of The Ghost of Christmas Past pointing to Scrooge's tombstone as Scrooge cringes on his knees.
You know, Dickens would have made a great screenwriter. There are myriad versions of this novella -- which just begs to be filmed -- but this one is my favorite. You can't beat its evocation of Victorian London. Sure, I would rather have seen Lionel Barrymore as Scrooge (he was originally cast, then I believe broke a foot). But Reginald Own fills the bill nicely. Look for a young June Lockhart among Bob Cratchett's brood.
4. Persuasion (1995). No tagline. Most memorable scene: The girl falling and clonking her head on the waterfront.
I actually saw the film before I read the novel -- which I normally avoid. But, the film did not detract from my discovery of the novel, yet it was also a very credible interpretation. No frills, no mainstream actors. Just a good, sensible, brooding rendering. Sort of like the book in the Austen canon.
5. A Room with a View (1986). No tagline. Most memorable scene: Lucy fainting in George Emerson's arms.
It's tough to live up to the book, but this film version does. Helena Bonham Carter perfectly captures Lucy Honeychurch's blend of snobbish affectedness and rebellious honesty, and Maggie Smith as Charlotte Bartlett is priceless. Daniel Day-Lewis (what the hell ever happened to him?) steals the show as Cecil. And the soundtrack is to die for. One of those movie experiences that leaves me sighing and reaching for a Baedeker.
...............
And, just to jerk your train of thought around like a carnival ride, I like this, from James Hynes. (Weird, 'cos just yesterday I ordered his book on a whim from Amazon.com.:::Play Twilight Zone theme here.)
I had an epiphany one soporific mid-morning when I stood up in my cubicle to stretch myself awake. Turning slowly in place, I scanned a complete 360 of the cube horizon. The scene was slightly underlit, and while I could hear all sorts of human activity—talking, phones ringing, keyboards clattering—I couldn’t see another living person. I felt as if I was working in a room full of ghosts. The alienation of cube life was suddenly revealed to me as something gothic, a variation on the creeping dread of a Poe character. I could be walled up alive inside my cubicle and no one would even notice—the Cube of Amontillado. Immediately I dropped to my seat and jotted down a paragraph that appears almost without revision in my new book, Kings of Infinite Space.
3.14.2007
I hate everything I write
I hate everything I write.
I hate everything I wrote
that I'm currently rereading.
That's a sign of one of two things:
Either I am going to make a breakthrough, a leap forward in development, progress.
................Or...............
I am going to quit.
The moment every writer half-dreads,
half-anticipates and half-prays will happen
at some point.
Obviously, I've always gone down Route 1.
Is it time now for the road-less-travelled?
The only thing now to do is wait. To find out.
I hate everything I wrote
that I'm currently rereading.
That's a sign of one of two things:
Either I am going to make a breakthrough, a leap forward in development, progress.
................Or...............
I am going to quit.
The moment every writer half-dreads,
half-anticipates and half-prays will happen
at some point.
Obviously, I've always gone down Route 1.
Is it time now for the road-less-travelled?
The only thing now to do is wait. To find out.
3.13.2007
Thinking blogger -- who, me?
How cool is this? I was nominated for a "Thinking Blogger Award" by Stefanie and Courtney! (Thanks, guys!) My head is swelling so to such outlandish proportions, I had to stretch out my thinking cap (which is, by the way, a shocking shade of pink, encrusted with rhinestones.)
Now I'm supposed to nominate 5 other bloggers for the honor. But, I simply cannot choose! (This might be a good time to share that, although I may be The Literate Kitten, I have much more in common with The Cowardly Lion.) I will say that I regularly read all of those bloggers on my Blogroll -- a group I tend to keep selective to make sure I can enjoy all of the collective wit and wisdom. I nominate all of them.
And, here's some news you all might enjoy: Annie Dillard has a new novel coming out in a few months, called The Maytrees. Here's the description from HarperCollins:
Set in the wild sand dunes of post-war Provincetown, Massachusetts, The Maytrees is the story of Toby Maytree, a free-thinking poet, and Lou, a quiet summer resident who reminds people of Ingrid Bergman. After his service in the war, Toby Maytree returns to Provincetown where a community of artists and writers has settled at land's end. It's the town he grew up in, and where he and Lou have now started a family. They share a simple life and a circle of close friends, and when their son Peter is born, it is their friend Deary who helps to care for him. But years later it is Deary who suddenly comes between them, creating a fault line in their marriage and forever changing the course of their lives.
3.12.2007
Happy Birthday, Jack Kerouac
"The American Haiku is not exactly the Japanese Haiku. The Japanese Haiku is strictly disciplined to seventeen syllables but since the language structure is different. I don't think AmericanHaikus (short three-line poems intended to becompletely packed with Void of Whole) should worry about syllables because American speech is something again...bursting to pop. Above all, a Haiku must be very simple and free of all poetic trickery and make a little picture and yet be as airy and graceful as a Vivaldi Pastorella."
Jack Kerouac
(partial Haiku, Jack Kerouac)
Early morning yellow flowers,
thinking about
the drunkards of Mexico.
No telegram today
only more leaves fell.
Nightfall,boy smashing dandelions
with a stick.
Holding up my
purring cat to the moon
I sighed.
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