Have you read David Nicholls's One Day yet? I raved about it last fall, and so as always I approach the release of a film based on the novel with both suspicion and excitement. Perhaps a titch more excitement given Nicholls penned the script, but then a titch more suspicion when I hear Anne Hathaway's British accent. (Even if hers is better than my attempts to sound like Eliza Doolittle-meets Cher Lloyd-meets a Dickensian-era newspaper boy.)
Anyway, if you don't want to have anything about the story of Dexter and Emma ruined for you (and you've missed the trailer, which reveals much -- though not all -- of the tale), then don't follow these links.
If, however, you have read the book, or have already seen the trailer and have long lost any faith in Hollywood's ability to produce two minutes of film clips without simply compressing the storyline, then I urge you to read this snarky, perfect review of the trailer. That's right. Review of the trailer. It's what we've come to in a society obsessed with brevity.
And then, if you're leaning more towards excitement than suspicion for this movie, and again you're not too worried about spoilers, check out this featurette with still more clips.
2011-07-28
2011-07-19
"famous for the wrong book"?
I love this discussion of how authors are often famous for the wrong book -- Guardian writer John Self points to such classics as Remains of the Day or Catch-22 as not-bests.
What would you add to his list?
I'm hesitant. I feel like often enough, the famous books are most famous for their ability to transcend elitist or snobby particularities. For example, my favourite Atwood novels are The Edible Woman or Cat's Eye, but I'm well aware their experimental feminism and blending of the unrealistic with the everyday appeal to a certain narrow crowd. The Handmaid's Tale or Oryx and Crake would generally have wider appeal.
On the other hand, this sort of brings to mind a book club discussion once had in Edmonton, where one member pointed out that, failing to get his points across in books like Down and Out in Paris and London, George Orwell essentially parades a bunch of farm animals before the reader in Animal Farm, finally entertaining a wider crowd and allowing the political messages he wished to get across to shine through....
What would you add to his list?
I'm hesitant. I feel like often enough, the famous books are most famous for their ability to transcend elitist or snobby particularities. For example, my favourite Atwood novels are The Edible Woman or Cat's Eye, but I'm well aware their experimental feminism and blending of the unrealistic with the everyday appeal to a certain narrow crowd. The Handmaid's Tale or Oryx and Crake would generally have wider appeal.
On the other hand, this sort of brings to mind a book club discussion once had in Edmonton, where one member pointed out that, failing to get his points across in books like Down and Out in Paris and London, George Orwell essentially parades a bunch of farm animals before the reader in Animal Farm, finally entertaining a wider crowd and allowing the political messages he wished to get across to shine through....
2011-06-12
tactile versus tactical...
Full disclosure: When I last packed my bags for a RyanAir flight... and by "bags" I mean "bag," and when I mention it's RyanAir, I wish to note specifically that one has to jam their purse into their carry-along and hope for the best while trying desperately to look as though the weight of one's bag is not an issue... I have to admit I kind of wished I had a Kindle rather than four paperbacks stuffed in my bag. I've heard great things about the Kindle -- specifically that it doesn't hurt your eyes, and you don't have to carry around books anymore -- and yet I'm fairly unwilling to dive so headlong into such technology. Won't I miss dog-earing pages? And the tactile enjoyment of turning pages? And, admittedly, the look of a full-to-overflowing bookshelf. Am I right or am I being pretentious and a little silly about emerging technology?
For the image: h/t Bookshelf blog.
2011-06-05
summer reads
So, having wrapped up posting to another blog -- and finally having had some time to sit down and read! -- I thought it was time to come back here. If you'll have me?
Although done most of my school work for the year, I'm still researching and only now just starting to write bits of my dissertation. But not only do I promise this space will not become a meditation on Barthes's take on mythology or Couldry's position on "effective voice," I promise to try harder to return here more often.
So, time for a round-up of great and not-so-great summer reads!
Great: Tina Fey's Bossypants
I bought a paperback coffee of Fey's "memoir" at Stansted Airport last week and, 24 hours later, I had gobbled it up. In between, I laughed while reading in the airport, on an airplane, in my hotel room, and on a beach. I loved this book for its straight-up jokes (erm, straight-up if you watched 30 Rock's first two seasons and loved them, perhaps not so straight-up if you watch, for example, Two and a Half Men or expect people to introduce sarcasm by saying, "Could I be more..."), for teeny tiny insights into Fey's relationship with coworkers like Amy Poehler (I like to imagine they are best friends and have super awesome lunches together), and for huge insights into being a woman in a position of power. From time to time she plays down her power, but mostly she takes full opportunity to give useful and relevant workplace advice. I maybe dog-eared a couple pages to review in future. As "Trees" say, it's "totally worth it."
Not so great: Anatomies of adultery
Sometimes a person needs to read complete and utter brain candy. And so, passing under the Waterloo Bridge a few weeks ago, I bought a cheap (£3.50) copy of Madeleine Wickham's Sleeping Arrangements, originally published in 2001 under the author's name and later republished under the author's more popular nom de plume, Sophie Kinsella. The book is about two families who find themselves in the same vacation rental for a week but -- spoiler alert -- Chloe (the mother from the struggling middle-class family) and Hugh (the father from the thriving-on-paper upper-middle-class family) used to be a couple. Spoiler: They broke up long ago for stupid reasons (Hugh was a douche). Spoiler: Now they're going to cheat on their current spouses. Not a spoiler: Life decisions will have to be made.
I suppose the "moral" of cheating-on-spouses stories is that no one can ever really know what's going on in someone else's head. Hell, one barely knows what's going on in one's own head most of the time, so I suppose there is no point in imagining you understand the inner workings of your husband's or wife's heart or mind. I cannot, however, say this makes books about cheating spouses all that fun to read. Even ambivalence on the part of the cheated-on spouses does not really allow one to side with the cheaters, and certainly if the author goes in with an even hand (no one is married to an evil, overbearing partner, shit just happens) it's pretty hard to sympathize with any character as you read about all the uncomfortable sneaking around. Really, it's an exercise in feeling uncomfortable for other people, which is something I excel at already....
Which brings us to Heart of the Matter, Emily Giffin's last outing. I have to give Wickham credit for, at least, writing a few twists into her tale and certainly making it funny at points. Giffin's anatomy of the cheat, on the other hand, drives forward harshly and without any twists, so that, from the first few pages, you know what will happen, how it will probably go down, and how things will likely end. Ironically, given the novel's title, the book lacks the heart that made Something Borrowed (another book about cheating) fun to read even when you were raising your eyebrows at Rachel's decision to sleep with her best friend's fiance. Despite Giffin's best efforts, one can't help just feeling sad for both Tessa (the wife) and Valerie (the other woman). As to Nick (the husband), he gets to be two different men, depending on whether the chapter is being narrated by Tessa or Val. This does make sense -- obviously the two women will have completely different takes on what he does, what he says, how he says it -- but makes Nick little more than a shadow of a man who one can't imagine fighting for....
Amazing: A Visit from the Goon Squad
READ THIS BOOK.
Ahem. Sorry about that.
Ok, putting my thoughts together.... Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad is a book about the passage of time. That means you will get to read about the future (slightly dystopic, definitely scary and seriously we all need to drive less, ok?), the past (campfires in Kenya, packed punk clubs in 1970s California, New York in the early 1990s), and the present. Nominally the book circles two main characters -- music producers Sasha and Bennie -- but Egan manages to dot the i's on virtually every character mentioned in connection to Sasha or Bennie. A brief mention of a friend who drowned in university in the first chapter guarantees that friend will have his chance to tell his story later in the book. In this way the book comes across partly as a fantastic vanity project (how wide can Egan cast her net?), partly as short story collection anchored by a handful of characters, and partly as a puzzle that demands a re-read as soon as you're done.
READ THIS BOOK.
Middling: The Understudy
Of David Nicholls's three novels, The Understudy is the only one not made into a movie. This is slightly ironic since I imagine the main character, struggling actor Stephen C. McQueen, would love to be in a movie. Even if that movie was painful to watch and made you cringe, like the book does from time to time.
I've only discovered Nicholls since moving to London, and I think I will forever associate his writing with this city -- terribly funny, uncomfortably truthful, sweetly romantic, and never easy to step away from. Think Nick Hornby, but sweeter and possibly more engaged with his characters. In my humble opinion, The Understudy is not Nicholls's best book (I'd say that title stays with One Day, although there is something so endearing about both Brian and Rebecca in Starter for Ten you have to love them). Nonetheless, there's enough here to read enjoyably, even if you can't help wondering how on earth Nicholls came up with a flimsy character like Nora....
So what are you reading now?
So what are you guys reading now? I'm back on the dissertation train, but in the meantime I'm picking through Zadie Smith's collection of non-fiction essays, entitled Changing My Mind. I have to admit with some embarrassment I've not read Smith's novels -- they don't quite draw me in from the first pages, which is probably something I need to work on -- but I'm digging her writing on writing. At the moment I'm reading her collection of film reviews, which are so pitch-perfect it could make a person cry for wanting to write like her!
Although done most of my school work for the year, I'm still researching and only now just starting to write bits of my dissertation. But not only do I promise this space will not become a meditation on Barthes's take on mythology or Couldry's position on "effective voice," I promise to try harder to return here more often.
So, time for a round-up of great and not-so-great summer reads!
Great: Tina Fey's Bossypants
I bought a paperback coffee of Fey's "memoir" at Stansted Airport last week and, 24 hours later, I had gobbled it up. In between, I laughed while reading in the airport, on an airplane, in my hotel room, and on a beach. I loved this book for its straight-up jokes (erm, straight-up if you watched 30 Rock's first two seasons and loved them, perhaps not so straight-up if you watch, for example, Two and a Half Men or expect people to introduce sarcasm by saying, "Could I be more..."), for teeny tiny insights into Fey's relationship with coworkers like Amy Poehler (I like to imagine they are best friends and have super awesome lunches together), and for huge insights into being a woman in a position of power. From time to time she plays down her power, but mostly she takes full opportunity to give useful and relevant workplace advice. I maybe dog-eared a couple pages to review in future. As "Trees" say, it's "totally worth it."
Not so great: Anatomies of adultery
Sometimes a person needs to read complete and utter brain candy. And so, passing under the Waterloo Bridge a few weeks ago, I bought a cheap (£3.50) copy of Madeleine Wickham's Sleeping Arrangements, originally published in 2001 under the author's name and later republished under the author's more popular nom de plume, Sophie Kinsella. The book is about two families who find themselves in the same vacation rental for a week but -- spoiler alert -- Chloe (the mother from the struggling middle-class family) and Hugh (the father from the thriving-on-paper upper-middle-class family) used to be a couple. Spoiler: They broke up long ago for stupid reasons (Hugh was a douche). Spoiler: Now they're going to cheat on their current spouses. Not a spoiler: Life decisions will have to be made.
I suppose the "moral" of cheating-on-spouses stories is that no one can ever really know what's going on in someone else's head. Hell, one barely knows what's going on in one's own head most of the time, so I suppose there is no point in imagining you understand the inner workings of your husband's or wife's heart or mind. I cannot, however, say this makes books about cheating spouses all that fun to read. Even ambivalence on the part of the cheated-on spouses does not really allow one to side with the cheaters, and certainly if the author goes in with an even hand (no one is married to an evil, overbearing partner, shit just happens) it's pretty hard to sympathize with any character as you read about all the uncomfortable sneaking around. Really, it's an exercise in feeling uncomfortable for other people, which is something I excel at already....
Which brings us to Heart of the Matter, Emily Giffin's last outing. I have to give Wickham credit for, at least, writing a few twists into her tale and certainly making it funny at points. Giffin's anatomy of the cheat, on the other hand, drives forward harshly and without any twists, so that, from the first few pages, you know what will happen, how it will probably go down, and how things will likely end. Ironically, given the novel's title, the book lacks the heart that made Something Borrowed (another book about cheating) fun to read even when you were raising your eyebrows at Rachel's decision to sleep with her best friend's fiance. Despite Giffin's best efforts, one can't help just feeling sad for both Tessa (the wife) and Valerie (the other woman). As to Nick (the husband), he gets to be two different men, depending on whether the chapter is being narrated by Tessa or Val. This does make sense -- obviously the two women will have completely different takes on what he does, what he says, how he says it -- but makes Nick little more than a shadow of a man who one can't imagine fighting for....
Amazing: A Visit from the Goon Squad
READ THIS BOOK.
Ahem. Sorry about that.
Ok, putting my thoughts together.... Jennifer Egan's A Visit from the Goon Squad is a book about the passage of time. That means you will get to read about the future (slightly dystopic, definitely scary and seriously we all need to drive less, ok?), the past (campfires in Kenya, packed punk clubs in 1970s California, New York in the early 1990s), and the present. Nominally the book circles two main characters -- music producers Sasha and Bennie -- but Egan manages to dot the i's on virtually every character mentioned in connection to Sasha or Bennie. A brief mention of a friend who drowned in university in the first chapter guarantees that friend will have his chance to tell his story later in the book. In this way the book comes across partly as a fantastic vanity project (how wide can Egan cast her net?), partly as short story collection anchored by a handful of characters, and partly as a puzzle that demands a re-read as soon as you're done.
READ THIS BOOK.
Middling: The Understudy
Of David Nicholls's three novels, The Understudy is the only one not made into a movie. This is slightly ironic since I imagine the main character, struggling actor Stephen C. McQueen, would love to be in a movie. Even if that movie was painful to watch and made you cringe, like the book does from time to time.
I've only discovered Nicholls since moving to London, and I think I will forever associate his writing with this city -- terribly funny, uncomfortably truthful, sweetly romantic, and never easy to step away from. Think Nick Hornby, but sweeter and possibly more engaged with his characters. In my humble opinion, The Understudy is not Nicholls's best book (I'd say that title stays with One Day, although there is something so endearing about both Brian and Rebecca in Starter for Ten you have to love them). Nonetheless, there's enough here to read enjoyably, even if you can't help wondering how on earth Nicholls came up with a flimsy character like Nora....
So what are you reading now?
So what are you guys reading now? I'm back on the dissertation train, but in the meantime I'm picking through Zadie Smith's collection of non-fiction essays, entitled Changing My Mind. I have to admit with some embarrassment I've not read Smith's novels -- they don't quite draw me in from the first pages, which is probably something I need to work on -- but I'm digging her writing on writing. At the moment I'm reading her collection of film reviews, which are so pitch-perfect it could make a person cry for wanting to write like her!
2011-03-20
Something Borrowed
I can't wait for this movie -- or the sequel I really really hope is in the works. Because yes, I technically like Something Blue even better than Something Borrowed.... possibly because of the London-based storyline....
Also, I promise to be a better blogger once school is done.... In the meantime, I've barely been keeping up with day-to-day stuff over here.
Also, I promise to be a better blogger once school is done.... In the meantime, I've barely been keeping up with day-to-day stuff over here.
2011-02-11
wager
Is it a spoiler to guess at the ending of a book you have no intention of reading?
Bear with me momentarily: Here is S. Krishna's review of the young adult book Choker.
And here is my wager the book concludes with the childhood friend being a figment of the protagonist's imagination, sort of like Fight Club for teenage girls.
That's a second spoiler, isn't it? Huh.... But Fight Club (the movie) came out more than 10 years ago, peeps, so don't hate me. Prove me wrong.
Back to essay-writing.... Oh! And strong recommendations you read this book. I haven't read more than a chapter yet (for a class on media representation), but it's on my list.
Bear with me momentarily: Here is S. Krishna's review of the young adult book Choker.
And here is my wager the book concludes with the childhood friend being a figment of the protagonist's imagination, sort of like Fight Club for teenage girls.
That's a second spoiler, isn't it? Huh.... But Fight Club (the movie) came out more than 10 years ago, peeps, so don't hate me. Prove me wrong.
Back to essay-writing.... Oh! And strong recommendations you read this book. I haven't read more than a chapter yet (for a class on media representation), but it's on my list.
2011-02-05
baby apps
For academic reasons, I'm reading a lot about the iPad today.... (I'm taking a course called ICTs and Everyday Life, which I think of as Awesome Science I Can Use When I'm Back At Work In Newspapers.... even though we study mostly the history of information and communications technologies as opposed to, well, science)
Anyway, I came upon this story, mom friends: Baby books gone digital. Weird? Cool? Perfect way to occupy baby on the Tube/in the car/in the grocery store? I really don't know enough about kids to know whether this is workable.... I feel like the mechanics would be problematic, as it's not like you could just leave them to be occupied, you would have to hold the hardware for them and ensure they don't gnaw through your iPhone.... Yeah, I really, clearly don't know enough about babies. But look! A bonus picture of Cute Baby K!
2011-01-14
memoirs 2011
I've never skipped a whole month of blogging on this site before. And I don't know whether to apologize -- because, really, I'm sure your lives were perfectly complete without my thoughts on books -- or haphazardly list the novels I've had a chance to read since last posting (Garbo Laughs; Starter for Ten; The Fire-Dwellers; Story House; A Bird in the House).
So, instead, let's move forward. Let's call it 2011 and talk about one of my book obsessions: Memoirs written by people who live with one toe in the "modern" world and one toe in an "orthodox" world. (Is this a terrible way of describing the central conflict in books like The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance?) So, adding to my '11 wish list: Mennonite in a Little Black Dress.
Other memoirs on the reading list? Poser: My Life in 23 Yoga Poses. Even if The Telegraph didn't like it and dragged poor Jennifer Aniston into the mix.
So, instead, let's move forward. Let's call it 2011 and talk about one of my book obsessions: Memoirs written by people who live with one toe in the "modern" world and one toe in an "orthodox" world. (Is this a terrible way of describing the central conflict in books like The New York Regional Mormon Singles Halloween Dance?) So, adding to my '11 wish list: Mennonite in a Little Black Dress.
Other memoirs on the reading list? Poser: My Life in 23 Yoga Poses. Even if The Telegraph didn't like it and dragged poor Jennifer Aniston into the mix.
2010-11-29
things that are pretty
I currently live in a country that has never seen a modern comfort it couldn't wrinkle its nose at.
And so, I'm really missing central heating this week as London enters a "deep freeze" (highs of 2C) that makes for vaguely chilly days outside but seriously freaking cold evenings inside.
What does this have to do with books?
Well, since I'm already whining about my humble abode, thought I'd throw in a random "I miss the ability to properly decorate" complaint. Which brings me to this link.
Other book news.... on the weekend I went to Greenwich Market, where I found super cheap used copies of David Nicholls's Starter for Ten (bound to be a good read, if One Day is anything to go by) and Andrea Levy's Small Island (anyone heard of it? is it good? it was a two-fer).
Why yes I am stocking up on Christmas break reading as I write my final essay of the term.
And so, I'm really missing central heating this week as London enters a "deep freeze" (highs of 2C) that makes for vaguely chilly days outside but seriously freaking cold evenings inside.
What does this have to do with books?
Well, since I'm already whining about my humble abode, thought I'd throw in a random "I miss the ability to properly decorate" complaint. Which brings me to this link.
Other book news.... on the weekend I went to Greenwich Market, where I found super cheap used copies of David Nicholls's Starter for Ten (bound to be a good read, if One Day is anything to go by) and Andrea Levy's Small Island (anyone heard of it? is it good? it was a two-fer).
Why yes I am stocking up on Christmas break reading as I write my final essay of the term.
2010-11-15
when did Travel Writing become boys-only?
I was perusing the Travel Writing section of Foyles today (because, of course, I should have been at home doing readings and preparing for a presentation) when I was struck by all the male authors. Paul Theroux, Bill Bryson, lots of dudes named David.... and I started wondering why this genre of writing -- the adventure -- is dominated by men almost to the exclusion of women.Worse, I started thinking about the travel books I've read or encountered that have been written by women, and it donned on me they fit into a handful of Harlequin-inspired sub-categories within the travel genre. Where men's stories are all raw adventure, hiking boots in-hand, jump-on-a-boat, ride-a-motorcycle, fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants deals, women's travel stories can be.... well, I was going to say "girly," but then thought better of it. Let's say, intensely focused on the self, the home, and sex.
For example, Around the World in 80 Dates? Let's call that the Sex and the City sub-category. Under the Tuscan Sun -- if the movie is anything to go by -- is a "find yourself away from it all and, cross your fingers, love too!" book. Eat, Pray, Love straddles the "find yourself" and the "find your taste buds" categories. Then you have something like Out of Africa, which rounds things out a little, but dwells less on adventure and more on the contrived and not-so-contrived differences between the writer/European audience and the "other"/African residents, tribespeople and servants.
You can see I got myself a titch worked up. Then I came home and searched through the Chapters database for "travel" and "adventure and literary travel." Things got better from there, actually. There's more of a diversity of women's writing on travel, and it isn't all of the Sand in My Bra/humour fold or the "Paris! Men! Shopping!" genre.
Still, some questions carrying forward:
Do women who write about travel slip into the natural style of women's magazine writing because that's what women want to read about? Would we prefer to read about "a woman alone in (insert country here) overcomes cultural differences" than "a woman startlingly begins hitch-hiking through the Middle East, then hops onto a train across much of Asia, a boat across the Pacific, and a motorcycle through the Canadian west coast"?
Do popular women's travel titles simply reflect a high interest in the memoirs of those who have lived "happily ever after" in our Oprah-inspired age of "buy shit, live the dream?" And what is the male counterpart to "buy shit, live the dream" if they are busy reading travel stories about guys retracing the steps of Genghis Khan?
Finally, am I being terribly humorless about all this, and should I really set my mind to school work?
descriptions that work, and descriptions that don't
"His expression is keenly alive with self-interest, which makes him appear blind and alert at the same time."
I'm sorry, but isn't that line kind of awesome? It's from Tessa Hadley's "The Trojan Prince," in the November 15th issue of The New Yorker. It's actually quite a simple tale of a young man who thinks he knows everything about what he wants, but would have a hard time putting any of those wants into proper words. He's easily angry and yet internalizes his frustrations, and he finds himself in the middle of a bizarre (cousinly) love triangle.
But that's the line that sticks with you. Here is some of the rest of Hadley's description of James McIlvanney:
"He's only sixteen, despite the man's overcoat and the new tweed cap. His hair is jet-black and very straight, and his face is composed of strong fine lines, clean and clear and exquisite like his pink-and-white skin; his eyebrows are as well-shaped as a woman's, his curved lips pressed shut as if he were holding in important news. The jut of his cheekbones and jaw is masculine enough -- strained and resilient. His expression...."
I marvel at writers with such ability to describe what a person actually looks like. I would think the challenge is to translate enough of your imagination to the page so readers are on your train of thought, without literally being like, "Think of Ben Affleck, right? Like, ok, I'm thinking of a guy who looks like him, but maybe with closer-knit eyebrows and a slightly less pronounced chin? Ok, ok, ok -- now we have our hero. Now, the heroine... Well, you know Barbra Streisand in "The Way We Were?" Ok, this girl looks the opposite of that!"
I'm sorry, but isn't that line kind of awesome? It's from Tessa Hadley's "The Trojan Prince," in the November 15th issue of The New Yorker. It's actually quite a simple tale of a young man who thinks he knows everything about what he wants, but would have a hard time putting any of those wants into proper words. He's easily angry and yet internalizes his frustrations, and he finds himself in the middle of a bizarre (cousinly) love triangle.
But that's the line that sticks with you. Here is some of the rest of Hadley's description of James McIlvanney:
"He's only sixteen, despite the man's overcoat and the new tweed cap. His hair is jet-black and very straight, and his face is composed of strong fine lines, clean and clear and exquisite like his pink-and-white skin; his eyebrows are as well-shaped as a woman's, his curved lips pressed shut as if he were holding in important news. The jut of his cheekbones and jaw is masculine enough -- strained and resilient. His expression...."
I marvel at writers with such ability to describe what a person actually looks like. I would think the challenge is to translate enough of your imagination to the page so readers are on your train of thought, without literally being like, "Think of Ben Affleck, right? Like, ok, I'm thinking of a guy who looks like him, but maybe with closer-knit eyebrows and a slightly less pronounced chin? Ok, ok, ok -- now we have our hero. Now, the heroine... Well, you know Barbra Streisand in "The Way We Were?" Ok, this girl looks the opposite of that!"
2010-11-09
from the Twittersphere
Because 140 characters is pretty much the perfect quantity of non-academic information I can currently comprehend....
- Margaret Atwood is on Twitter!
- In Los Angeles, a story of part-library, part-used bookstore... part comment on American politics.
- It's NaNoMo... or time to pick up your pens, those of you who want to write novels or exercise your imaginations or blog or just be awesome. At Lifehacker, tips on writing, clarity and being more awesome than you already are.
2010-11-06
"The Dinner Party"
After listening to Monica Ali read this story for the New Yorker, I really feel like I need to read Joshua Ferris's work.As Ali discusses after her reading, it is actually kind of difficult to make out whether the hero of the short story is, in fact, a hero. Really, one of the nagging elements is the feeling you're missing something. It's kind of like the feeling you have when you're talking to a couple and have accidentally stumbled upon an issue that causes them to fight. You didn't know it was coming, but there it is. And it's awkward. In fiction form, this is tantalizing. (In real life, you wish you could find the right words to make a polite exit.)
Has anyone read The Unnamed?
2010-11-03
claustrophobic
The way Lorrie Moore opens her short story "Debarking" -- originally published in The New Yorker in 2003 -- actually makes my fingers itch. The idea of not being able to escape a tiny golden band literally makes me a little sick. That probably says something about me. Nonetheless, thought I'd share:
"Ira had been divorced for six months and still couldn't get his wedding ring off. His finger had swelled doughily -- a combination of frustrated desire, unmitigated remorse, and misdirected ambition was how he explained it. 'I'm going to have my entire finger surgically removed,' he told his friends. The ring (supposedly gold, though now that everything he had received from Marilyn had been thrown in doubt, who knew?) clinched the blowsy fat of his finger, which had grown twistedly around it like a fucking happy challah. 'Maybe I should cut the whole hand off and send it to her,' he said on the phone to his friend Mike...."
(p. 35 from the 2008 Faber and Faber Ltd. edition of Moore's Collected Short Stories)
2010-10-29
open for interpretation: from Laurence to Lawrence
I've been doing more "fun" reading this week -- like taking a night off to re-read Margaret Laurence's The Diviners, and standing in line at Starbucks today reading The Guardian.
(I brought few novels with me to London, but I had to bring one Laurence. I love The Diviners because, frankly, I find something new in it every time I pick it up. This time, because in my classes we talk so much about how the very nature of sharing information transforms it, I was particularly struck by this line of Morag's musing: "Will Morag tell Pique all she knows of Lazarus, or of Christie, for that matter? How will the tales change in the telling?" Or, much later in the novel, ".... was she interpreting him, as usual, only through her own eyes? How else could you interpret anyone?")
So, I have a few items to share:
(I brought few novels with me to London, but I had to bring one Laurence. I love The Diviners because, frankly, I find something new in it every time I pick it up. This time, because in my classes we talk so much about how the very nature of sharing information transforms it, I was particularly struck by this line of Morag's musing: "Will Morag tell Pique all she knows of Lazarus, or of Christie, for that matter? How will the tales change in the telling?" Or, much later in the novel, ".... was she interpreting him, as usual, only through her own eyes? How else could you interpret anyone?")
So, I have a few items to share:
- There are lots of stories to read today about when Lady Chatterley's Lover went to trial as a banned book, and got un-banned. But I would suggest this tale, of a North England mining town's interaction with the novel, is a must-must-must-read. If only for the author's horrified response to his own mother....
- Also from The Guardian, this story by Lorrie Moore. "Foes" is included in a 665-page short-story collection I bought earlier this fall, which I also turn to every once in awhile when I need a little more fiction in my life. What strikes me about this particular story, however, is Moore's unyielding push. She pushes the reader to draw his or her own conclusions, then rips away whatever helped them come to that conclusion. Does that make sense? What I mean to say is she ensures you, the reader, can not take the moral high ground, no matter how firm you think that ground is.
- This is actually a shared link from TSS. Having, at times, the maturity level of a Cosmo-reading 19-year-old, I find this title particularly funny.....
2010-10-21
autumn poetry
With school readings, I haven't tons and tons of time to read novels at the moment. I've been experimenting with the New Yorker's fiction podcast.... But, to be honest, when I put it on I tend to fall asleep. I'm not a great listener of stories.
Says the reporter.
Anyway, today I meant to find some welcome-autumn poetry to share here. It was so gorgeous in London -- all blue skies and sunshine and falling leaves.
Instead, my flip through my treasured Oxford anthology of English poetry found this poem, by Anne Sexton. It is nothing if not arresting and thought-provoking. Not quite what I aimed for initially, but something to share nonetheless:
End, Middle, Beginning
There was an unwanted child,
Aborted by three modern methods
she hung on to the womb,
hooked onto it
building her house into it
and it was to no avail,
to black her out.
At her birth
she did not cry,
spanked indeed,
but did not yell --
instead snow fell out of her mouth.
As she grew, year by year,
her hair turned like a rose in a vase,
and bled down her face.
Rocks were placed on her to keep
the growing silent,
and though they bruised,
they did not kill,
though kill was tangled into her beginning.
They locked her in a football
but she merely curled up
and pretended it was a warm doll's house.
They pushed insects in to bite her off
and she let them crawl into her eyes
pretending they were a puppet show.
Later, later,
grown fully, as they say,
they gave her a ring,
and she wore it like a root
and said to herself,
"To be not loved is the human condition,"
and lay like a statue in her bed.
Then once,
by terrible chance,
love took her in his big boat
and she shoveled the ocean
in a scalding joy.
Then,
slowly,
love seeped away,
the boat turned into paper
and she knew her fate,
at last.
Turn where you belong,
into a deaf mute
that metal house,
let him drill you into no one.
Says the reporter.
Anyway, today I meant to find some welcome-autumn poetry to share here. It was so gorgeous in London -- all blue skies and sunshine and falling leaves.
Instead, my flip through my treasured Oxford anthology of English poetry found this poem, by Anne Sexton. It is nothing if not arresting and thought-provoking. Not quite what I aimed for initially, but something to share nonetheless:
End, Middle, Beginning
There was an unwanted child,
Aborted by three modern methods
she hung on to the womb,
hooked onto it
building her house into it
and it was to no avail,
to black her out.
At her birth
she did not cry,
spanked indeed,
but did not yell --
instead snow fell out of her mouth.
As she grew, year by year,
her hair turned like a rose in a vase,
and bled down her face.
Rocks were placed on her to keep
the growing silent,
and though they bruised,
they did not kill,
though kill was tangled into her beginning.
They locked her in a football
but she merely curled up
and pretended it was a warm doll's house.
They pushed insects in to bite her off
and she let them crawl into her eyes
pretending they were a puppet show.
Later, later,
grown fully, as they say,
they gave her a ring,
and she wore it like a root
and said to herself,
"To be not loved is the human condition,"
and lay like a statue in her bed.
Then once,
by terrible chance,
love took her in his big boat
and she shoveled the ocean
in a scalding joy.
Then,
slowly,
love seeped away,
the boat turned into paper
and she knew her fate,
at last.
Turn where you belong,
into a deaf mute
that metal house,
let him drill you into no one.
2010-10-16
Goodnight Tweetheart
What's the cheapest way to tell a story?
I might argue it's by telling the story in letters or e-mails. Back-and-forth, flip-and-flop, he-said-she-said.
Sorry, I might have argued that yesterday. Today I'd have to guess the weakest way to tell a story is likely via "Tweets" and "direct messages" on Twitter.
In fairness, I've not yet read Goodnight Tweetheart. Nor have I ever personally written a book -- something I am sure takes so much personal sacrifice and self-motivation.
Still, I'm pretty comfortable with rushing to judgment on this one....
I might argue it's by telling the story in letters or e-mails. Back-and-forth, flip-and-flop, he-said-she-said.
Sorry, I might have argued that yesterday. Today I'd have to guess the weakest way to tell a story is likely via "Tweets" and "direct messages" on Twitter.
In fairness, I've not yet read Goodnight Tweetheart. Nor have I ever personally written a book -- something I am sure takes so much personal sacrifice and self-motivation.
Still, I'm pretty comfortable with rushing to judgment on this one....
2010-10-03
meet Emma and Dexter
Well, I broke my own school-year rule -- no fun, fictional books when there are readings to be done -- and took One Day home on Friday afternoon.
Then, I literally spent two nights in a row reading until about 4 a.m. And I was not reading about the Christian-moral roots of our notions of communication. I was reading about Dexter and Emma, two people who share a (sort of) one-night stand in 1988, and the 20 years that follow this night.
I'm still sort of reeling from the book, to be honest. It's funny, it's disturbing.... It's epic -- yes, epic -- and I don't really know where to start without ruining anything for you. I should say, this is not When Harry Met Sally. This is.... two people you feel you know. Maybe two people you feel you've been.
Dexter, through much of the book, is literally like the douchiest person you've ever met. Take a moment, and think of that person -- someone you dated, shared a meal with, hated from across the classroom or office. Now, try to imagine that person does actually have the same misgivings and moments of self-doubt you do. Maybe he or she wants the same things you do, too, but manages to fall short because of some uncontrollable urge to be a douchebag. In a nutshell, this shrugging self-awareness is what allows you to love Dexter throughout the book.
Emma, meanwhile, is painfully funny and gracious and lovely. She's vulnerable and makes mistakes, and you just want to shake her at times, as though that would help her gain the confidence Dexter wants for her too. (A piece of writing from a note to Emma from Dexter: "You're gorgeous, you old hag, and if I could give you just one gift ever for the rest of your life it would be this. Confidence. It would be the gift of confidence. Either that or a scented candle.") Other times, you want to hug her, straight-up.
I can't really say enough wonderful things about David Nicholls, and his beautiful suck-you-in-and-spit-you-out writing. It's a funny, funny book -- something of a love story, but really more the story of two lives, of perceptions that change and friendships that drift but stay the same as well. It's enough to make me want to read his other work, which includes Starter for Ten. But I won't today. Because I have to do school work today, and for many days ahead.
2010-09-30
One Day?
Has anyone heard anything about this book?
Aside, of course, from the fact Anne Hathaway has been cast to play the lead in the film, drawing random British ire?
One Day, written by David Nicholls, just kind of sounds like a book I'd love to read -- all drawn-out love story, years of banter and worrying and wondering?
To be continued, at some point....
Aside, of course, from the fact Anne Hathaway has been cast to play the lead in the film, drawing random British ire?
One Day, written by David Nicholls, just kind of sounds like a book I'd love to read -- all drawn-out love story, years of banter and worrying and wondering?
To be continued, at some point....
2010-09-26
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