Reading, Writing, and the Gender Issue

With all these posts lately about Jane Austen on Ripple Effects, Arti feels there is a need for an erratum.  Before the comedy of errors gets to Austenesque proportion, and considering Arti’s minute talent in writing such that there being no aspiration to become a modern day George Eliot, a major confession is called for here:  Arti is A Lady.

At first when I started Ripple Effects, I thought that the name “Arti” is neutral enough like “Les”, “Chris”, or “Alex”.  I subscribe to the ideal that great literature and good writing is gender neutral, by this I mean their relevance and significance surpass the boundaries of gender to reach the universal, be it the work of Jane Austen or George Orwell.   And, laying aside the gender issue, good books deserve to be read.  The novels of Jane Austen come to mind.  The gender of a writer should not be an impediment if the writing speaks to all.  Arti proceeded to write all reviews and articles based on this premise, attempting to strive, albeit remotely, towards this ideal.

I hope the disclosure of Arti’s gender does not diminish readers’ enjoyment of Ripple Effects.  Definitely, Arti does not want to be accused of carrying a concealed weapon, or acting as an undercover agent when it comes to the battle of the sexes.  So here I am, coming out with both hands up in the air.

As readers can quickly observe, Ripple Effects encompasses not only Austen, or just books.  But because Arti is endowed with only 24 hours in a day,  wherein a few have to be allotted to that essential yet elusive activity called sleep, there is just not enough time to see all the many exciting worlds Arti would like to explore.  To alleviate this deficiency,  Arti visits other people’s blogs to quench the thirst.  I thank you all for transporting me to those worlds in this great blogosphere of ours.

In between visits,  Arti will continue to plow through neutral grounds to learn the art and craft of reading, writing, watching, and gleaning the worthy ones to review.

(Visual:  Le Blanc Seing by René Magritte)

What was Jane Austen really like? Reading Tomalin and Shields

As a biographer, Tomalin’s account of Jane Austen’s life is meticulous and exhaustive.  Her analysis is critical and sharp, her writing style bold, precise and cutting.  The following excerpts are prime examples.

When speculating about the possible consequence of Mrs. Austen sending her infants away to be raised, Tomalin makes the following inference:

“The most striking aspect of Jane’s adult letters is their defensiveness.  They lack tenderness towards herself as much as towards others.  You are aware of the inner creature, deeply responsive and alive, but mostly you are faced with the hard shell; and sometimes a claw is put out, and a sharp nip is given to whatever offends.  They are the letters of someone who does not open her heart; and in the adult who avoids intimacy you sense the child who was uncertain where to expect love or to look for security, and armoured herself against rejection.”

Or this to say about mother and daughter:

Mrs. Austen had a sharp tongue for neighbours, appreciated by her daughter and passed on to her.”

Or, with the episode of Jane accepting and later recanting Harris Bigg-Wither’s marriage proposal, Tomalin’s view is clear:

We would naturally rather have Mansfield Park and Emma than the Bigg-Wither baby Jane Austen might have given the world, and who would almost certainly have prevented her from writing any further books.”

If you can appreciate such kind of abrasive commentaries, you would certainly find it entertaining to read Tomalin’s than an otherwise ordinary biographical sketch.  Ironically, I have a feeling that this is the kind of biographies Jane would have written if she could write without censure.

Putting her incisive analysis to good use, Tomalin explores Jane’s creative process, giving credits to her imaginative ingenuity.  The limitation of physical and social mobility render Jane’s world parochial, yet her characters and story lines are diverse and innovative.  Her writing are evidences of pure creative concoctions.

…essentially she is inventing, absorbed by the form and possibilities of the novel… The world of her imagination was separate and distinct from the world she inhabited.”

For Jane, it is imagination and not experience that has given her wings to soar outside of her bleak circumstances.  A vivid example is the writing of the sprightly Pride and Prejudice.  The novel was written during a time of family tragedy with the death of Cassandra’s fiancé Tom Fowle, and amidst Jane’s own disappointment with the evaporation of hope with Tom LeFroy.

All in all, Tomalin’s sharp and cutting writing style works towards Jane’s favour.  Her biography is resourceful and entertaining, her analysis incisive, and her conclusion moving.  Above all, Jane would have found it amusing and satisfying.

Jane Austen: A Life by Claire Tomalin, published by Penguin Books, 2000,  362 pages, including appendices, notes, bibliography, chart, and index.  Additional 16 pages of photos.

*****

Carol Shield’s Jane Austen is a succinct and gentler rendition of Jane’s life.  Shields and her daughter, the writer Anne Giardini, were presenters at the JASNA AGM in Richmond, Virginia in 1996.  This book came out five years after that.  Shields has crafted a highly readable literary gem, adorned by her lucid and flowing writing style.

As a novelist, Shields’ main thrust is to trace Jane’s development as a writer.  Exploring her family circumstances as she was growing up, Shields presents to us a gifted youth of exuberant spirit, one who had known the joy of theatrical performances and experienced the exhilarating power of humor.  Jane’s ingenuity lies in her parodies.  As a young contributor to her older brother James’ weekly magazine The Loiterer , she was already a skillful writer of satires.  Shield notes that:

“…it is the satirical form of her youthful writing that astonishes us today.  What makes a child of twelve or thirteen a satirist?

… Jane Austen had been nurtured, certainly, in a circle appreciative of burlesque… but she was also a small presence in a large and gifted household.  Her desire to claim the attention of her parents and siblings can be assumed.  She gave them what they wanted, that which would make them laugh and marvel aloud at her cleverness”

This yearning to entertain, influence and be acknowledged remained the motivation for Jane’s writing throughout her life. Her youthful gigs and satires transformed into full-fledged novels.   Just take Northanger Abbey for example.  It is a burlesque of the Gothic in a style which she was so familiar with since her girlhood days. And a look at the characters like Mr. Collins in Pride and Prejudice, or Mrs. Elton in Emma, readers could readily appreciate Jane’s “comic brilliance and… consummate artistry”.

Shields offers in-depth analysis of Austen’s works, exploring not just the writing but the psyche of a brilliant mind.  Like Tomalin, she dispels the myth of art imitating life, and credits Jane’s imagination as the key ingredient of her ingenuity:

“Her novels were conceived and composed in isolation.  She invented their characters, their scenes and scenery, and their moral framework.  The novelistic architecture may have been borrowed from the eighteenth-century novelists, but she made it new, clean, and rational, just as though she’d taken a broom to the old fussiness of plot and action.  She did all this alone.”

Considering the physical and social limitations confining Jane, it was her writing that transported her to brave new worlds, and the vehicle was her imagination.

As I finished reading these two biographies, Virginia Woolf’s praise of Jane Austen resonated in my mind:

“Here was a woman about the year 1800 writing without hate, without bitterness, without fear, without protest, without preaching.  That was how Shakespeare wrote.”

While we lament that Jane had left only six complete novels upon her untimely death at forty-one, we treasure these legacies of imagination and the inspiration they evoke for generations to come.

Jane Austen, a Penguin Lives series, by Carol Shields, published by Vikings, 2001,  185 pages.

Update:  This article has been published in the Jane Austen Centre Magazine, where you can read online informative articles on Jane and the Regency Period.

For more on Jane Austen’s creativity, click here to read the post “Life Imitates Art, or Art Imitates Life”.

*****

 

 

What was Jane Austen really like? Reading Cassandra & Jane

Reading Jill Pitkeathley’s biographical novel Cassandra & Jane has prompted me to find out what Jane Austen was really like.  The persona depicted in her book is so different from what I had conjured up while reading Austen’s six novels.  Upon finishing Pitkeathley’s fictional account, I could not wait but delve right into Claire Tomalin’s Jane Austen A Life, and Carol Shields’ Jane Austen.  So, kicking off my fall reading, I have devoured, back to back, three biographical works on a woman writer who is more popular today than she was in her time two hundred years ago.

Jill Pitkeathley’s Cassandra & Jane is a fictitious rendering of Jane Austen’s life. It is based on historical facts as recorded in biographies; in fact, it reads like a fictional illustration of Tomalin’s work.  As a novelist, Pitkeathley takes the liberty to fill in the gaps and offers imagined scenarios of events. That is the fun or ambiguity of reading a historical novel.  The intermingling of fact and fiction has spurred me on to explore what actually happened, above all, what kind of a character Jane herself truly was.

I was surprised to find that behind the romantic book cover shrouds a very sombre portrait of Jane Austen.  What is most intriguing is the revelation that, unlike the sanguine ending in Austen’s novels, the very author of these works had led a life filled with misfortunes and disappointments.  And unlike Austen’s heroines, females who could impact and influence those around them, Jane was often bound by powerlessness and subjugated to consequences of familial and social disparities.  For most part of her life until she received the meager profits from her books, she was solely dependent on her father and later her brothers financially that she could not make any travel plans or purchases on her own.

Written from the point of view of Cassandra, who was the sole person privy to the intimate and private side of a beloved sister, the novel depicts a discontented soul, at times critical, at times bitter, and poignantly resigned at the end. Unlike her own novels, which end on a high note with exhilarating conclusion, Jane Austen’s life was far from fulfilling for her in love, in health, and in career.  Within the confines of late 18th and early 19th century England, the lively and soaring spirit of Jane Austen was kept distressingly in check.  What Pitkeathley has chosen to present to us therefore is a multi-layered persona, deep and intriguing.

“Hers was such a complex nature that it was not possible to explain to those who did not love her that she could be cruel and kind, disparaging and compassionate, bitter and hopeful, almost in the same breath.”

Considering the complex character of her beloved sister, her sharp wit and critical eye, her cutting comments on the people and circumstances around her, Cassandra had a very legitimate reason to burn the intimate correspondences she had with Jane, knowing that Jane would easily be misunderstood and even judged by posterity if they were released to the public. Pitkeathley had taken full advantage of this void to fill in the gaps and offer her own renderings of the events and motives marked by silence, albeit based on historical evidences.

The account of the romantic episode with George Atkins is an example.  Regarding the Rev. Atkins, whom Jane met in Lyme, and who received a passing mention in her letters anonymously, Pitkeathley has painted a star-crossed love affair, adding colours to a life that is thought to be devoid of romance.

Considered by some who think her life as uneventful,  and indeed, she may not have travelled far from her home in her short 41 years of life, Jane had had her share of life experiences. First off, from infancy, she had the taste of banishment as all Austen newborns were sent off to be raised elsewhere from home, coming back only as they entered childhood.  Her childhood days with her siblings were probably the most joyous period of her life, growing up in a literary household, devouring books in her father’s library and participating in theatrical gigs her brothers organized. Her strain relationship with her mother however remained a dark spot most of her life.

Jane’s young adulthood saw disappointment of lost love and opportunities, or the lack thereof. Nevertheless, married life to her may not be that appealing, after witnessing two sister-in-laws die at giving birth to their eleventh child.  She had felt the grief of the death of Cassandra’s fiancé days before the wedding.  She was dislocated from home beyond her own choosing, moving to Bath and thus triggering a long period of depression.  She had led a life of poverty, suffered the loss of her dearly beloved father, endured familial and social disparities first as a female, then as an unmarried female, and later as an unmarried female writer.  She had seen her own works rejected, and later even with some of her novels published, had to remain anonymous to avoid social deprecation.  And finally, she saw the bankruptcy of her brothers, jeopardizing her mother’s, her sister’s and her own livelihood, and lastly, faced an untimely death at age 41 after a debilitating and painful illness.

What is left that makes life meaningful and fulfilling?  How can a spirit confined to so many limitations break through and soar?  Pitkeathley has painted a Jane who was resilient and determined.  Choosing a life of literary pursuit over a loveless marriage to Harris Bigg-Wither, Jane was ready to take on the social denigration of spinsterhood and the working woman.  From her writing, Jane had found release from her entrapment. She had created stories wherein heroines were passionate and free like Marianne Dashwood, intelligent and self-assured like Elizabeth Bennet, adventurous and imaginative like Catherine Morland, persistent and morally upright like Fanny Price, lively and mischievous like Emma Woodhouse, and patient and long-loving like Anne Elliot.  From her writing, Jane had opened a way for her own self expression, channelled her indignation of injustices, and found a platform to proclaim her ideals.

At the end, with Cassandra, we lament the short life of Jane Austen, but we cherish a literary talent whose resilience and ideals have inspired readers through the centuries.  Considering the numerous film adaptations today and the proliferation of fan fiction, Jane can finally impact and influence, an ideal she could only imagine in her novel writing.

You are invited to vote on the poll question:  Which Austen heroine do you think Jane was most like? Find the Poll on the top of the side bar. Just check your answer and click “Vote”.

*****

Cassandra & Jane by Jill Pitkeathley, first published 2004, reprinted 2008 by Harper Collins, N.Y.  270 pages.


Rachel Getting Married (2008)

“I think families are weird and insane…

They are the best source material.”

Jenny Lumet Interview with L.A. Times

I can’t agree with Lumet more… well, maybe not the insane part.  As screenwriter (daughter of director Sydney Lumet), she must have pondered the facts that the family is the first point of social contact a newborn is introduced to, the hotbed of human relationships from jealousy to rivalry, and the school of harsh lessons, learning to love amidst hate, forgive despite hurt.  That is the scenario in her script Rachel Getting Married.

And usually it’s at weddings that the raw emotions are exposed and where conflicting sentiments are so intense that they become unmanageable, hence, the source materials for many of our films…

It was full house again at The Calgary International Film Festival’s screening of Rachel Getting Married. First time screenwriter Jenny Lumet has crafted a realistic family portrait.  Director Jonathan Demme (of The Silence of the Lambs fame) uses roving camera work to effectively capture the naturalistic look, giving me the impression that I’m watching the home-made video of another family.  This film is definitely not for those with weak stomach or who are easily nauseated.

The movie is about Kym (Anne Hathaway) returning home for her sister Rachel’s (Rosemarie DeWitt) wedding.  Kym has been in rehab for some years, trying to deal with substance abuse.  Coming home is bitter sweet for all. First, Kym’s father has remarried and a wedding means the re-appearance of Kym’s mother (Debra Winger), and the re-opening of old wounds.  Further, the jealousy and sibling rivalries are still intense, albeit hidden within a facade of good will most of the time. As the story unfolds, we see the tragic past of the family, its emotional residue still spilling out to the present.

Shot in a naturalistic style (Robert Altman is acknowledged in the end credits), with a hand-held camera jolting its way through family gatherings, punctuated with non-script-like casual and spontaneous talks, the film makes us feel like we’re secretly prying into another family’s affairs.  But herein lies the merit of such an incisive look.  The truth is, if we get the chance to peep behind the curtains into other people’s homes, we would probably find how similar they are with our own.   We may not have to deal with a substance abuser, or have gone through similar tragedies, but we have to live with the common human emotions of hurt and disappointment, rivalries and anger.  We are encouraged when we see how others find redemption, and from the pit of negativism, rise up and go forward.

Anne Hathaway has shown that she can act outside of the sweet and charming feminine roles as in The Devil Wears Prada (2006) and Becoming Jane (2007).  Here in Rachel Getting Married, she has effectively delivered an excellent performance as a messed up substance abuser struggling to redeem herself.  The film could well lead her to other more character-driven roles in the future, or maybe even an acting nomination.

As for the film itself, the roving camera work is not for everybody.  With its almost 2 hours running time, seems like it needs a bit more work on editing and pacing to make it more appealing.  Do we need so many musical numbers?  Overlooking the melodramatic parts, the film is still effective in delivering a very human story.

~ ~ ~ Ripples

Update December 11:  Anne Hathaway has just been nominated for a Best Actress Award at the 2009 Golden Globes for her role in Rachel Getting Married.

*****

COPYRIGHT WARNING:

Arti of Ripple Effects is the writer of the above original review, posted on September 30, 2008, here at https://rippleeffects.wordpress.com   ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

If you see this article on some other blogs or websites (as I have) without acknowledgment, citing, or linking back to Ripple Effects, then you know it has been copied without permission from the author.

Appaloosa (2008)

Yes, they’re still making westerns. The plots are still generic. Lawmen upholding the law in a lawless land. So what’s new?

What’s new is the fine tuning of characterization, the focus on internal conflicts and dilemmas, and the more stylistic and agile camera works, the music, and the slower, almost meditative pace of story development. I have in mind Open Range (2003), and the recent 3:10 to Yuma (2007).

… And at the Globe where the movie was screened, among the full house attendance at the Calgary International Film Festival, some enthusiasts even dressed western for the occasion.

Ed Harris has proved that he is versatile as an actor and director (Pollack, 2000), and now as a screenwriter. He is all three in Appaloosa. Based on the book by Robert B. Parker, Appaloosa is a typical western buddy movie.  Virgil Cole (Ed Harris) and his sidekick Everett Hitch (Viggo Mortensen, with Harris in A History of Violence, 2005) are two “itinerant lawmen”.  They are hired this time by the town of Appaloosa, as marshal and deputy, to get rid of the lawless rancher Randall Bragg (Jeremy Irons) and his gang.  The twists begin to emerge when a young widow shows up in town.  Allie French (Renée Zellweger) is so alone, so vulnerable, that she has her eye on the tough marshal Cole as soon as she enters town.

The buddy duo has some adjustment to make with this sudden appearance of a third party.  With a woman in his life, Cole himself has become vulnerable and is soon confronted with the dilemma: woman or duty.  Well that’s just one of the several twists of the story, a plot that takes its time to unfold.

As much as I like Renée Zellweger, I find her portrayal of Allie French less than satisfactory. There is definitely a miscast here. It takes more than just acting to bring out the sly femme fatale persona… her look and demeanour just do not reflect the menacing shrewdness and seductive lure needed here. It is unfortunate that Zellweger is cast into a role that she simply does not look the part.

But the movie is still enjoyable just the same. It is slick, funny, clever, and entertaining. Overall the acting is superb, but it is Viggo Mortensen who steals the show. As the quiet, and very intelligent sidekick of Virgil Cole, Everett Hitch has been more than supportive of his buddy. He is Cole’s vocabulary teacher, attentive listener and counsellor, and at the end, fulfills what justice and honor require a man to do, something which Cole himself has neglected. Mortensen has delivered a most gratifying performance which I think deserves an Oscar nomination.

At the end, after twists and turns, the hero rides off into the sunset, a typical conclusion. But this time, we are reminded why we come to see a western to begin with.  Such is the kind of movies where honor and nobility of character is expected of the protagonist, and that the good still wins, and justice served.  How satisfying.  Maybe that is why they are still making westerns, knowing there is an insatiable yearning for such ideals which are beyond time and genre.

~ ~ ~ Ripples

Summer Hours (l’Heure d’été, France 2008)

September is International Film Fest month in several Canadian cities.  Kicking off was the prominent TIFF (Toronto, world’s largest FF), now’s the CIFF (Calgary), and later on in the month, the VIFF (Vancouver).  Last year I was able to catch a glimpse from each one of these events.  But this year I’ll just stick with Calgary.

Went to see French director Olivier Assayas’ (Paris, je t’aime, 2006; Clean, 2004)  Summer Hours last night, the only screening in Calgary.  Writing the script himself, Assayas has created a film so realistic that it seems like a docudrama.  The story is about three adult siblings dealing with the estate of their mother (Edith Scob), a treasure house filled with objets d’arts, from furniture to vases, paintings to artist notebooks.  It’s a visual delight for the art lovers in the audience, albeit the camera doesn’t stay long enough for us to savor… I’d love to see more close-up lingering shots of the notebooks.

What’s realistic of course is, while the objects can easily be passed on from one generation to the next, the emotions and sentiments associated with them cannot.  The eldest son Frédéric (Charles Berling) wishes to leave the house as is so everyone in the family can still stop by and cherish the memories, but his other two siblings think otherwise.  Adrienne (Juliette Binoche) works as a designer in New York and is soon getting married.  Jérémie (Jérémie Renier) works with a sports manufacturing company in China and is settled there with his family.  Though all appreciate the memories of their childhood home in France and the artifacts within, they have their own life to live and family to raise elsewhere.  Their decision of how to deal with their mother’s estate is a practical one, sell it.

The Musée d’Orsay in Paris is the honorable recipient of these personal treasures.  Actually, Assayas was commissioned by the Museum to create the film in celebration of its 20th anniversary.  Here we see the pathos of turning family heirloom into museum pieces, albeit handled gently and meticulously by the staff.  Herein lies the crux of the film.  Assayas has depicted the human side of objets d’arts that we see in museums, how they could have been everyday household items, a table on which notes have been scribbled and letters written, a vase that has held many cut flowers from the garden.  These have been objects used and enjoyed privately by families, but are now desensitized, hung or displayed in a public arena.  The personal and subjective experiences could never be captured by the public eye.

The last scene is a closure for the pain of letting go.  The teenage grandchildren have one last chance to enjoy the house and its idyllic setting as they hold a large party for their friends.  The young immerse themselves in loud music, dancing, doping, and dipping in the pond, unaware of the passing of one era to the next.  A brief moment of sadness takes hold of the oldest granddaughter, as she savors a lingering memory in the garden.  She is joined by her boyfriend for a brief reminiscence and the next moment, they quickly dash back to the house to rejoin the party.  Assayas has painted the poignant in a most subtle manner.

~ ~ ~ Ripples

Literacy and Longing in L.A. Book Review

“Outside of a dog,  a book is Man’s best friend.

And inside of a dog, it’s too dark to read.”

— Groucho Marx (1890-1977)

There’s got to be a name for this genre of work, modern novels written by women authors, savvy, hip, like scripts for romantic comedies, featuring self-deprecating heroines at the crossroads, but alas, with a large dose of literary or scholastic flare.  Simply “Chick Lit” won’t do,  they are not giddy enough; “Intellectual Chick Lit” may sound like an oxymoron.

Well this one is a wild ride, with literary figures and quotes streaming by your window.  Authors Jennifer Kaufman, a staff writer at L.A. Times and Karen Mack, a former attorney and a Golden Globe Award winning TV and Film producer, have performed cleverly the feat of embedding over 200 authors, artists, and works in their story, from Marcel Proust to Andy Warhol, Matthew Arnold to Kurt Vonnegut. To be helpful, a 9-page Book List is included at the back.

This is the story of a bibliomaniac who uses book binges to escape from her problems, and just a little too much wine to de-stress.  As Freud would have put it, it all started with our protagonist as a child.  The fateful incident when Dora (named after Eudora Welty) and her sister Virginia (who else…) were riding in the car with their alcoholic, and literary, mother behind the wheel.  They ended up in the river.  That’s the last straw for their dad, who deserted them a few weeks later.  Ever since that accident, Dora has been using binge reading to cope with life’s disappointments and ennui.  Now as an adult, she “collects new books the way [her] girlfriends buy designer handbags.”

While separated from her second husband, Dora, a former L. A. Times writer, meets Fred in an indie bookstore in L.A.  She is attracted to his intellectual side, and just knowing he’s writing a play is appeal enough for her to fall for him.  As she gets to know more about Fred and some of his family ties, Dora is swirled into problems that her safe, upper middle class life would never come into contact with.  Here the plot thickens.

I’m ambivalent about this one.  First of all, I don’t like the book cover.  The cover directly or subliminally leads to the impression that has given “Chick Lit” its bad rap.  I know, I shouldn’t judge a book by its cover.  I’m attracted by the title, however, and am glad I’ve explored further than the cover.

I often wonder how exactly do two authors write a book together.  Do they each write different chapters?  Well, here in LALILA, it certainly reads like it.  Just as you thought it’s all about a self-deprecating female trying to stay afloat, the story peels off a few layers and reveals the courage and heart underneath the surface.  In contrast to the lighter shade, the darker chapters depict a more complex and thinking individual who is not afraid to care and embrace the pathos in life.

What I enjoy most is the clever inclusion of literary quotes and figures in the story.  Each chapter starts with one that’s pertinent to the content.  Some are funny, some thought provoking, but all smart and relevant.  And for the Janeites among us, I’m afraid the authors have taken side with Mark Twain regarding Jane Austen.  Now those parts you might just want to skim over.

I can also see the debates the book and its many literary quotes could spark in a book discussion group.  LALILA makes one enjoyable title for those looking for light, fun, and contemporary women’s writing.  The ambiguous ending may also spur lively speculations.  And for the bibliomaniacs among us, whether you agree or not with the protagonist’s decisions in life or values in love, you’re bound to empathize with the notion of book binging.  It may not be the solution to life’s problems, but reading is definitely one appealing and enjoyable thing to do in our very stressful modern day living.

The book has a website which includes book discussion questions and a lit quiz, well worth exploring.  Just Click Here to go.

Literacy and Longing in L.A. is written by Jennifer Kaufman and Karen Mack, published by Delacorte Press, 2006, 325 pages.

*******

Then She Found Me: Book Review

This is one of those frequent examples where a film is so drastically different from the book that they are virtually two very separate entities. But what’s unusual is, I’ve enjoyed them both.

Then She Found Me, published in 1990, is written by award winning New England author Elinor Lipman. Helen Hunt, together with Alice Arlen and Victor Levin, wrote the screenplay and turned it into a movie. I can understand why those who have read the book first before seeing the movie are flabbergasted. The only commonality between the book and the film other than the title may just well be the two main characters, the quiet and rational high school Latin teacher April Epner and her birth mother Bernice Graverman, the ostentatious TV talk show host who wants to claim back the daughter she had given up for adoption more than 30 years ago. There are almost no traces of the original story in the movie.

The amusing character contrast in the book is a springboard for some creative channelling for Hunt and her screenwriter team, kudos to Lipman’s original conception of the story idea. Despite its digression from the book, the movie still works and entertains. What more, it has preserved the spirit of the book and has brought to the screen the basic issues the book touches on, the major one being the meaning of motherhood, and the inevitable debate over the value of the birth versus the adoptive mother. For my detailed review of the movie, click here.

The She Found Me is my introduction to Elinor Lipman, the acclaimed author of eight books of fiction and short stories. The book is almost script ready, for it is predominantly dialogues, witty, intelligent, and incisive dialogues. Lipman’s sensitivity and subtle humor effectively bring out the nuances of her characters and their relationships, at times sarcastic, at times genuine, at times poignant.

36 year-old April Epner is a high school Latin teacher, quiet, rational, academic, and single. Her long-sleeved cotton jersey and drop-waist Indian cotton jumper persona hides a kind and genuine soul. The only parents she has known all her life are her adoptive Jewish parents Trude and Julius Epner, Holocaust survivors, who have lovingly brought her up and given her a Radcliffe education. After they have passed away and as she stands in the crossroads of her life, the last thing April needs is to be found by a brassy and impulsive talk show host Bernice Graverman, who claims to be her birth mother. Conscientious April has to match wit with evasive Bernice, with the help of her school librarian Dwight, who happens to be much more than just a supplier of encyclopedic information. Without giving out spoilers, let me just say the story unfolds with sprightly twists and turns, effectively driven by Lipman’s first-rate, cutting and entertaining dialogues.

Those who have seen the movie but have not read the book should move right along to savor the source material. In here you’ll find the intended closure to the seemingly unsolvable conflict and ambivalence. I can see this as a good choice for book/movie discussion in reading groups and book clubs.

As I was reading, I thought I saw Jane Austen cameo. What Lipman has created here is something close to what Austen would have written today: a contemporary comedy of manners, a likable heroine reminiscence of Anne Elliot, an anti-Darcy male character, albeit with similar height and social ineptness, and through the characters and their situations, dares to explore some serious social issues that are masked by very funny, sharp and witty lines. The result is a tasty concoction of humor and heart.

And lo and behold, guess whose portrait I see when I open up Elinor Lipman’s website ?

Then She Found Me by Elinor Lipman is published by Washington Square Press, 1990, 307 pages.

~ ~ ~ Ripples

Glenn Gould: The Russian Journey (2002, TV)

 For two months, I had to stay away from home while my house underwent a major renovation.  After sequestered from TV watching for the whole summer, that was one of the first things I delved into as soon as I moved back last week.  A couple of days ago, in between re-runs of Olympics events, I was most gratified to watch this CBC/National Film Board documentary.  What a breath of fresh air and what an invigorating luxury I have been deprived of all summer!  Only on CBC.

The legendary Canadian pianist Glenn Gould (1932 – 1982) visited the Soviet Union in 1957, at the age of 24, the first concert pianist from North America to be extended and accepted an invitation to play behind the Iron Curtain.  Stalin died just four years ago.  The Cold War was at its climax.  Very few had heard of a Canadian pianist named Glenn Gould, what more, very few had heard Bach since the composer was banned by the totalitarian regime for the religiosity of his work. 

This 56 minutes documentary, which won the Grand Prize of the 2003 Montreal International Festival of Films on Art, is packed with valuable archival footage of the actual Gould concerts, meditative shots of the lone pianist against the grand Russian architectural backdrop, as well as some of Gould’s own reminiscence of the historic journey. Interspersed are interviews with significant personalities within the Soviet arts and music circles, sharing their life-changing Gould experiences.  Among them are prominent musicians such as the renowned pianist and conductor Vladimir Ashkenazy, and dissident cellist Mstislav Rostropovich, who sheltered the writer Solzhenitsyn and resulted in the Soviet government banning his performances.

Tatiana Selikman, a pianist and teacher at the Russian Academy of Music, recalls the day of Gould’s first concert in May, 1957.  She saw the poster and was curious about a pianist from Canada, playing The Art of the Fugue, which nobody ever played in Communist Soviet Union.  The Grand Hall of the Moscow Conservatory was sparsely seated.  Then the pale faced pianist came on stage, sat on a low chair, and unleashed a magical performance that mesmerized his small audience.  During the intermission, those in the concert hall dashed out to phone their friends, urging them to come right away.  As the concert resumed for the second half, the hall was packed to overflow.

And the rest is history…

What Gould brought to the Russian audience was not just Bach, or the intricacies of the Fugue, or the beguiling Goldberg Variations, but a new perspective.  Gould’s performance embodied the liberating effect of music, the freedom of artistic expression and the bold exhibition of individualism.  The audience was emancipated to a new found freedom that was not sanctioned under totalitarian rule.  Using the words of some of the musicians interviewed in the film, the Berlin Wall of music came down, warming the Cold War by a few degrees. For the first time, they were applauding something that was not Soviet.  And they were exhilarated.

The recent passing of the Russian dissident writer Alexander Solzhenitsyn, and the events taking place in Georgia, or even the Olympics, have whirled up sentiments in me that I thought was long gone… the pathos of hearing the muffled cries of the oppressed, be it political, social, or artistic. 

There are those who are indignant about the Canadian government subsidizing the Glenn Gould trip, arguing it was a waste of taxpayers’ money.  If a lone pianist can inspire the masses, and if music can soften the hearts of man, enhance international goodwill, and reiterate the ideals of humanity, I am all for it.  Would it not cost more to send hundreds of thousands of soldiers to the front line?

 ~ ~ ~ ½ Ripples

The documentary has been posted on YouTube in six parts.  Here is the beginning.  However, nothing compares to the big screen especially with Glenn Gould playing Bach:

                                     

                                                                              *****

Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) DVD

How happy is the blameless vestal’s lot!
The world forgetting, by the world forgot.
Eternal sunshine of the spotless mind!
Each pray’r accepted, and each wish resign’d.
          – Alexander Pope, “Eloisa to Abelard

 

**

Summer is the best time for me to catch up on movies I have missed in recent years.  Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind is one of them.  I have long admired the title of this movie, and wondered who made it up and what it could possibly mean.  Well, I finally made the move and bought the DVD.  After watching it I gave out a sigh of contentment, “Of course!”

It is a challenge to write a review of this movie without spoiling the enjoyment of those who haven’t seen it.  But just let me say this Oscar Best Original Screenplay (2005) is one of the most ingenious in years.  Screenwriter Charlie Kaufman, of Adaptation (2002) and Being John Malkovich (1999) fame, teamed up with director Michel Gondy and screenwriter Pierre Bismuth, and created a wonderful and fresh look at a love story.

If science could allow you to erase any bad memories, which ones would you delete?  This is the premise of the film.  Two individuals, Joel Barish (Jim Carrey) and Clementine Kruczynski (Kate Winslet) met each other at a friend’s party and fell in love.  As with all relationships, they went through ups and downs, experiencing the exhilaration that love could bring, as well as the humiliation it could unleash.  Given the convenience of technological advancement, they elected to erase each other from their memories when their relationship turned sour.

What follows is nothing short of a visual treatise on the conflict between scientific advancement and what it  means to be human, but well embedded in an intelligent sci-fi comedy, evoking the minds of Nietzsche and Pope.

The fine script is augmented by the excellent acting of the cast.  I’m not a Jim Carrey fan, but I’ve particularly enjoyed his more ‘serious’ roles, like in The Truman Show (1998 ) and here in ESOTSM.  He has given a superb performance as the sullen Joel Barish.  Kate Winslet is convincing as the wild and intuitive Clementine.  Their amiable chemistry draws out some great performance from each other.

The rest of the cast is also fun to watch.  Kirsten Dunst (Marie Antoinette, 2006), Tom Wilkinson (Michael Clayton, 2007), Mark Ruffalo (Blindness, 2008 ), and Elijah Wood (The Lord of the Rings, 2001-2003), all lend exceptional support to the main characters.

Other than the acting, the movie also benefits from some excellent editing and technical expertise.  The switching back and forth in time, and the juxtaposition of memories with the present, and imagination with reality, is superbly intertwined.  On first viewing, one may find it a little confusing.  However, as the movie finishes, one would definitely want to watch the beginning again.

I was much gratified to see the story come to an ingenious end.  With love, bad memories are better than no memories.  As I was watching, a movie quote from another film came to mind:

The things that people in love do to each other they remember, and if they stay together it’s not because they forget, it’s because they forgive.

It is uplifting to be reaffirmed that being human encompasses the various subjectivity of experiences, be they sad or joyous.  And forgiveness and love may well be some of the loftiest ideals humanity could ever pursue.

The DVD comes with some excellent special features including behind-the-scenes look at the production, a conversation with Jim Carrey and director Michel Gondry, feature commentary with Michel Gondry and writer Charlie Kaufman, a music video, deleted scenes, and a neat little surprise.

~ ~ ~ Ripples

 

The Savior: Book Review

The Savior is the debut novel written by Eugene Drucker, the founding member of the renowned Emerson String Quartet.   It is a fictional Holocaust story, but what it depicts is not far-fetched.  Based on his father Ernst Drucker’s experience as a violinist in Germany during the 1930’s, and mingled with his own performing episodes in hospital wards and infirmaries, Drucker has created a riveting and believable narrative. Most importantly, he has packed into the short 204 pages some questions that humanity has long found impossible to solve, the problem of human depravity and personal redemption.

In the book, the protagonist Gottfried Keller is a young German violinist during WWII. Due to a weak heart, he cannot serve his country in the front line, but he is drafted into the Nazi war machine by the SS for an experiment in a Holocaust death camp. Under the cultured yet ruthless Kommandant, Keller is to play four solo violin concerts to selective Jewish prisoners. The expressed purpose is to test whether music has the power to revive languishing souls.

As I read the summary on the book cover, the image of the movie Shawshank Redemption (1994) came to mind. When the character Andy Dufresne (Tim Robbins) sneaks into the prison control room and broadcasts Mozart’s Sull Aria from The Marriage of Figaro over loud speakers out to the prison grounds, the inmates are instantly mesmerized by the beauty of the duet, the music transporting them from their confinement to lofty realms.

But what readers are confronted with here in The Savior is a drastic contrast. When Keller plays the Bach sonata in G minor for the inmates, he witnesses the horror of despair. The melodies act like whips on their flesh, cruel reminders of the hopelessness they are in. The intricacies of the fugue evoke searing pain rather than the expected comfort and relief, driving them to eerie moans and groans, exasperated in unrestrained sobs and anguish.

The irony is apparent. The redemptive power of music is but a myth. The violinist, acting as a life-giver or at least a boost to waning souls, is but a pawn in a game of cruelty. As the story unfolds, the violinist, the savior himself, finds desperate need for self redemption. Memories of his past, the choice of security over love, come back as torrents pounding on his conscience.

In the discussion of St. Matthew Passion with the young prison guard Rudi, Keller struck the chord of betrayal and remorse. As pathetic as attempting to pull one’s weight off the ground, both Keller and Rudi find It impossible to redeem themselves. The part a person plays in the overall scheme of atrocity needs to be dealt with. Being a pawn in the game does not excuse one from responsibility, even though the issue is a complex one.

As an expert in musicology and a professional musician, the author is able to effectively weave the music of Paganini, Ysaÿe, Hindemith, and Bach into literary form, an expertise only a violinist like himself can provide. The book excels in these detailed renderings of musical and literary tapestry.

However, the mere 204 pages of succinct narrative could be expanded to better handle the complexity of the issues and characterization the book is dealing with. The unfolding of Keller’s love affair with his Jewish girlfriend Marietta could be told in more details to allow the poignancy to linger.

Overall, a captivating story and a springboard to further pondering.

~ ~ ~ Ripples

The Savior by Eugene Drucker, Simon and Schuster, 2007, 204 Pages.

 CLICK HERE TO VIEW A VIDEO of Eugene Drucker playing Bach’s “Chacone” from Partita No. 2 and his explanation of its role in the book The Savior.

 

                                                            *****

The Glass Castle: Book Review

For my 100th post, I’d like to share an extraordinary personal narrative by writer Jeannette Walls.

The opening of the book grabbed me right away as I was browsing in a bookstore. The author, a successful journalist and writer, was in a taxi, all dressed up for an evening event in New York City. As she glanced out the window, she saw a homeless woman scavenging a garbage bin. A closer look made her realize that was her own mother.

That is one dramatic opening of a book. Knowing that it is the telling of a real-life story intrigued me all the more.

Since its publication in 2005, the award-winning childhood memoir of Jeannette Walls has garnered high acclaims and been on the New York Times Best-Seller List for 100 weeks.

Growing up nomadic is a succinct description of Walls’ childhood. At age four, she had already moved eleven times. Upon the direction of her eccentric father and idealistic mother, and often to escape debts or consequences of misdeeds, the four Walls children were herded across the United States from Arizona to California, across mining towns and even living out open in the Mojave Desert, moving on a whim and often given just minutes to pack up whatever meager possessions they had.

Afflicted with alcoholism, dad Rex had trouble holding down a job. But he was a man with a brilliant mind and a wealth of knowledge which he readily passed to his favorite daughter Jeannette. She learned from him science and engineering, mathematics and history. The glass castle is his promise to her, assuring her one day he would strike gold with the Prospector he had invented, and build the family a glass castle they could all live in. The glass castle remained a glimpse of hope, yet sadly proven to be one illusive dream.

Mom Rose Mary was an idealistic artist and writer. Besides teaching her children to appreciate nature, art and literature, she had taught them adaptability and instilled in them the spirit of resilience. Once driving through the Mojave Desert, they saw an ancient Joshua tree. Growing through the wind swept years, the tree was permanently bent and yet was still firmly rooted. Later, Walls found a sapling growing not far from the old tree and wanted to dig it up and replant it near their home:

I told Mom that I would protect it from the wind and water it every day so that it could grow nice and tall and straight.

Mom frowned at me. ‘You’d be destroying what makes it special,’ she said. “It’s the Joshua tree’s struggle that gives it its beauty.

This book could well be named The Joshua Tree.

Rex’s alcoholism left the family in dire poverty. In this candid and personal account, Walls remembers that often she had to go without food for days. While in school, she would scavenge garbage cans for leftovers after lunch. Often they would have no electricity in the makeshift shack they called home, and took a shower once a week.

Mom was plagued by depression and often lived in a world of her own ideals. Her laissez-faire style of child-rearing often left her kids to fend and provide for themselves. Even if she found a job as a school teacher, she would soon grow tired of it and wouldn’t get up in the morning. The kids would have to drag her up, usually in vain.

I’m surprised the term “Dysfunctional” never occurred in my mind as I read the book. The Walls children were tenacious, resourceful, bold and confident. They were avid readers and did well in school.  What more, they were devoted to each other and loyal to the family. From an early age, they had to learn to handle an alcoholic father, a moody and depressed mother, and mediate their occasional fights and conflicts. The kids had to parent their own misfit mother and father. The Walls might be financially crippled, they were able to maintain strong relationships and an exuberant zest for life.

Walls’ account is candid and personal, poignant with cutting humor. One time in winter, when icicles were formed in their kitchen ceiling because the roof was not insulated and there was no electricity in their home, Walls describes her mom’s response:

All seasons have something to offer,” she said. “Cold weather is good for you. It kills the germs.

How we view the Walls parents of course depends solely on how their daughter presents them in her memoir. And this is precisely my point. Jeannette Walls has painted a loving picture of her parents depsite their failings. She is sympathetic to their struggles with their own demons. Through out the book, I am touched by her capacity to forgive, to persevere, to hope, and to plan for a better future, not only for herself, but for all her siblings.

The last chapters of the book detail how the author and her siblings pursued a new beginning by establishing an independent life in New York City, while still as teenagers. The story of resilience moved on to another phase. Readers are gratified to see a rewarding end to Walls’ years of perseverance.

Film rights have been optioned for the book.  If it is ever turned into a movie, from a visual sense, it is easy to illustrate the hilarious and sensational parts. However, my sincere hope is that the film will keep the integrity and poignancy of the memoir. Often, it is not what has happened that is worth telling, but how the narrator sees what has happened that makes the storytelling moving and memorable. In this case, both the what and the how are extraordinary and uplifting.

The following is a video clip of Jeannette Walls and her mother talking about The Glass Castle.

~ ~ ~½ Ripples

The Glass Castle by Jeannette Walls, published by Scribner, NY. 2005. 288 pages.

NOTE: Here is the latest (April 23, 2012) regarding the film adaptation of the book. Lionsgate has bought the rights and Jennifer Lawrence is in talk for the lead. CLICK HERE to read more.

FOR A LIST OF UPCOMING BOOKS INTO FILMS, CLICK HERE.

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