Pamplona. Bull running. San fermin festival. All through the eyes of Hemingway.
I couldn't imagine anything better. Especially considering I have been to the very festival and places described in The Sun Also Rises.
It felt as though I was walking hand in hand with the man himself as he traversed the seedy underbelly of cafe life and jazz bars in Paris, the Pyrenees and then Pamplona with his affluent group of friends.
Whether it's describing the bulls being unloaded from the corals, sparing with bull fighters, fly fishing in the Spanish countryside or drinking himself silly in Paris's Montmartre quarter, Hemingway somehow makes everything sound autobiographical.
Of all the authors who I've come to meet on this epic literature journey, Hemingway has been the most honest. The most unashamedly real. Making his novels completely relatable.
Whether it's matter of factly describing an anecdote or interchange between men and women, or probing into the lead characters own flaws, he somehow effortlessly makes you feel you are there in the room. As much a part of the story as the wine and gin they drink.
The simplicity of the prose is deceptive. This is a man who believes less is more and makes the smallest sentence deliver the biggest punch.
The story centers around Jake Barnes—a man whose war wound has made him impotent—and the promiscuous divorcée Lady Brett Ashley. Rather than choose a lead female who is either an old nag or an eligible young woman looking for marriage, Hemingway decides upon a vivacious divorcee who is experiencing sexual liberation and independence in post war Paris and not shy in making the most of it. She is not two dimensional, but five or even six dimensional. Hemingway paints her in so many ways you aren't sure at any one time if you like her, loathe or are inspired by her.
Yet again, like so many books in this top 100 list, the plot revolves around those with money and the misery they find themselves swimming in as they struggle to make their hopeless and vain existence meaningful.
Brett who even has a male name, embodies the modern woman, leaving broken men in her wake, including Jake who can never consummate his love with her. There is a sense of irony in this, that as one woman finally secures the freedom and power she craves and the men in her life become weaker.
In fact, Brett may be the first cougar to be put into writing. She captures the ardour of a 19 year old spanish bull fighter in the middle of the festival and romances him into her bed. An impressive feat for any woman. But a divorcee in the 1920's? I tip my hat to you dear lady..
In the end, what is left is a book with dominated by cougars, bullfighting, sangria, love triangles and debachery. Could there be a more winning combination?
I doubt it, unless of course Hemingway was to read the story aloud to me himself. That will just have to be relegated to my day dreams. I girl can hope can't she?
xx
Monday, 9 April 2012
Saturday, 24 March 2012
that is not a fish, this is a fish...
Call me a speed reader but as soon as I dropped lord of the flies I picked up Mr Hemingway's 'Old Man and the Sea'.
It must be said I'm a Hemingway groupie from way back. He makes me swoon the way most girls experience facial paralysis and loss of body control when they perve on Channing Tatum in 'The Vow.'
He, Hemingway that is not Channing, creates prose that is like literary porn for book nerds such as myself. In the words of Depeche Mode, I just can't get enough.
The old man and the sea has always been a perennial favourite of mine so it was like taking a bath in chocolate to read it again. Every line reminds me of childhood fishing adventures. Casting a line, the rocking of the ocean, the silence, the beauty of just becoming part of the landscape.
While small, it is an epic book. One man and his enduring battle. Against the sea, against odds, against himself and against a magnificent fish.
With every page you can practically hear the lapping of the ocean against his boat, feel the film of salt against your skin, the sting of the line cutting into your palms and the sense of apprehension and excitement that comes when a line screams off the bow.
Every man, woman and child whether they are a fisher or not should read this book.
Has there ever been an author like Hemingway? I'm not sure, it could be why five of his books are on the top 100 list.
So with Easter around the bend, rather than indulge in a chocolate binge I'm going on a Hemingway gorge fest. Next up is The Sun Also Rises, For Whom the Bell Tolls and A farewell to arms.
Let the overdose begin!
x
J
It must be said I'm a Hemingway groupie from way back. He makes me swoon the way most girls experience facial paralysis and loss of body control when they perve on Channing Tatum in 'The Vow.'
He, Hemingway that is not Channing, creates prose that is like literary porn for book nerds such as myself. In the words of Depeche Mode, I just can't get enough.
The old man and the sea has always been a perennial favourite of mine so it was like taking a bath in chocolate to read it again. Every line reminds me of childhood fishing adventures. Casting a line, the rocking of the ocean, the silence, the beauty of just becoming part of the landscape.
While small, it is an epic book. One man and his enduring battle. Against the sea, against odds, against himself and against a magnificent fish.
With every page you can practically hear the lapping of the ocean against his boat, feel the film of salt against your skin, the sting of the line cutting into your palms and the sense of apprehension and excitement that comes when a line screams off the bow.
Every man, woman and child whether they are a fisher or not should read this book.
Has there ever been an author like Hemingway? I'm not sure, it could be why five of his books are on the top 100 list.
So with Easter around the bend, rather than indulge in a chocolate binge I'm going on a Hemingway gorge fest. Next up is The Sun Also Rises, For Whom the Bell Tolls and A farewell to arms.
Let the overdose begin!
x
J
Castaway for kids...
Think of the film Castaway only instead of Tom hanks, it's the group of bullies out of Stephen King's Carrie novel who are stuck on an island, they are pint sized, meaner and crazier.
That basically sums up Golding's 'Lord of the flies'. Of course not all of the boys are bullies but it's what happens while watching them try to govern themselves that is what is most intriguing.
They become afraid and when fear strikes they start to become primal and more prone to manipulation by the powerful members of the group.
Golding has a flawless childlike imagination which makes you feel he is one of them and you can feel the suffocating paranoia as all semblance of civility breaks down.
The use of fear and violence in the fight for control is something that is echoed over and over again in the world today. It's sobering to see young boys tragically play this out, acting the way adults have done for years in international and domestic conflict.
It's a challenging read but a rewarding one. It takes a talented writer to not only tell a story but have the reader live the story at the same time. I would normally never pick up a book like this but found myself loving it and finishing it in two sittings.
This book was written more than 58 years ago and it is still relevant and long may to continue to be. It's kind of success every author dreams of.
I can't imagine anything more satisfying or fulfilling than having your writing be relevant and meaningful to others..
X
J
That basically sums up Golding's 'Lord of the flies'. Of course not all of the boys are bullies but it's what happens while watching them try to govern themselves that is what is most intriguing.
They become afraid and when fear strikes they start to become primal and more prone to manipulation by the powerful members of the group.
Golding has a flawless childlike imagination which makes you feel he is one of them and you can feel the suffocating paranoia as all semblance of civility breaks down.
The use of fear and violence in the fight for control is something that is echoed over and over again in the world today. It's sobering to see young boys tragically play this out, acting the way adults have done for years in international and domestic conflict.
It's a challenging read but a rewarding one. It takes a talented writer to not only tell a story but have the reader live the story at the same time. I would normally never pick up a book like this but found myself loving it and finishing it in two sittings.
This book was written more than 58 years ago and it is still relevant and long may to continue to be. It's kind of success every author dreams of.
I can't imagine anything more satisfying or fulfilling than having your writing be relevant and meaningful to others..
X
J
Wednesday, 21 March 2012
Wishful thinking...
I wish I was reading the new Jane Green book...
I wish I was reading the Hunger Games series...
Instead I'm reading...
I wish I was reading the Hunger Games series...
Instead I'm reading...
Tuesday, 20 March 2012
Recipe for a classic with a twist...
Take one
mixing bowl and add:
- A
scrawny, guileless and gutless American soldier/optometrist, an alien abduction
and World War II
- Add a
sprinkle of time travel and stir until well combined
- Fold in
a loveless marriage, a fatalistic attitude and a life-long nemesis and knead
until a soft consistency
- Cook in
an oven on medium heat for 2 hours and then leave to cool
- Season
to taste and sample the final result in one sitting - Kurt Vonnegut's, Slaughterhouse Five
I suppose
I should have known when I first bought it that it was going to be an unusual
read. I only had to mention the title before the shop assistant became
incredibly animated. He literally jumped on the spot and rattled off a raft of
sci fi authors and other works by Vonnegut. In between his breathless enthusiasm
he got out that Slaughterhouse was one of his favourites and what did I think
of it? Was I re-reading it?
When I
told him that I'd never read any of his work before and that I was just
re-educating myself on the classics he dropped me like a hot plate. I read his
face instantly. 'She's not one of my people.'
I
practically had to force him to take my money for the book. I knew then, that
this book wasn't going to be any old classic book to tick off the list.
It was
better.
Think The Time Traveller's Wife set in WW2 with an alien
abduction thrown in along the way. It's beyond strange but completely
enjoyable. The The Time Traveller's Wife simply pales in
comparison.
Told from
the view of a timid, often gutless and cowardly man, the book keeps coming back
to the idea that life does not end with death, instead its about the living of
moments. So as the plot develops it jumps back and forth, as Billy, the main
character keeps reliving his time and time again.
It's a
fascinating read and I have deliberately not picked up another book since I
finished it last Friday. I just wanted to savour the taste it left in my mouth.
The thoughts and questions it probed at the reader really made me think about
the past, present and future and all that intertwines.
How Vonnegut came up with the idea and flow
of the book baffles me entirely. I'm struggling just with one linear story and
plot. A jumble of experiences which flit back and forth in time would be
overwhelming to try and capture and put into words.
It was
one of the only books I've read that is written and told exactly the way life
actually is. A jumble of experiences, moments and thoughts. All happening at
once, with memories of the past interfering with the present and future.
It makes
you think about everything that has led to the makings of who you are, small as
well as dramatic moments and experiences. It made me think about what has
turned me into the aspiring writer I am today and that the only thing stopping
me from becoming not only an author but a successful one, is me.
xx
J
Monday, 12 March 2012
The damned and the vain...
I have to admire F.Scott Fitzgerald for a couple of things:
1) For being able to write a book where every character is despicable
2) for shining the spotlight on the very class from which he is from, showing them as nothing more than frivolous and soulless
3) For pointing out that when youth is fading, money is little consolation
Ordinarily I wouldn't have picked 'the beautiful and the damned' off the shelf. Sure the heading is interesting but one quick skim of the blurb is enough to put me off.
It goes: a pretty rich girl partners up with a rich man. By rich, meaning he's never had to work a day in his life and doesn't intend to. He plans to be a man of leisure. Partying and decadence are their daily routine until the money starts to dry up and their marriage crumbles along with their youth.
It's interesting watching their lives implode but what is disturbing is in all this turmoil not a single redeemable feature comes to the fore.
They drown in self pity, vanity, shallowness and weakness.
They weren't built to survive hard times only the good times.
While it's set in the 20's I can't help but think how it's still relevant today. How many young people who get married, often do so with the intention of enjoying the good times but when the tough or bad times arrive they cut and run.
They might not be rich, but somehow they still have the weakness in character and the vanity to go along with it.
There is one point in the book where the vain, silly stupid wife, Gloria, drives herself mad with her obsession with her looks -
"there was nothing she had said she wanted except to be young and beautiful for a long time and to have money". Pg 244
" oh my pretty face, I don't want to live without my pretty face! Oh what's happened?". Pg 354
Her obsession with beauty is enough to make you feel ill, but times haven't changed much have they?
Perhaps the biggest coupe de grace is that both Gloria and Anthony nearly drive themselves mad in the battle for his $10million inheritance, but it's only when he actually wins that Anthony goes clinically insane.
An ironic touch by Fitzgerald. If there is one thing he is good at, it is in peeling back the layers or lack of in characters and showing what they are really made of.
In this case they are made of nothing more than flour and egg, dashed away when the rains arrive.
When u read a book like this it makes u look at your own life to take your own measure. And I'm pleased to say the only egg and flour you'll find on me is if I've been baking
X
Jh
Next one - slaughterhouse five by Kurt Vonnegut
1) For being able to write a book where every character is despicable
2) for shining the spotlight on the very class from which he is from, showing them as nothing more than frivolous and soulless
3) For pointing out that when youth is fading, money is little consolation
Ordinarily I wouldn't have picked 'the beautiful and the damned' off the shelf. Sure the heading is interesting but one quick skim of the blurb is enough to put me off.
It goes: a pretty rich girl partners up with a rich man. By rich, meaning he's never had to work a day in his life and doesn't intend to. He plans to be a man of leisure. Partying and decadence are their daily routine until the money starts to dry up and their marriage crumbles along with their youth.
It's interesting watching their lives implode but what is disturbing is in all this turmoil not a single redeemable feature comes to the fore.
They drown in self pity, vanity, shallowness and weakness.
They weren't built to survive hard times only the good times.
While it's set in the 20's I can't help but think how it's still relevant today. How many young people who get married, often do so with the intention of enjoying the good times but when the tough or bad times arrive they cut and run.
They might not be rich, but somehow they still have the weakness in character and the vanity to go along with it.
There is one point in the book where the vain, silly stupid wife, Gloria, drives herself mad with her obsession with her looks -
"there was nothing she had said she wanted except to be young and beautiful for a long time and to have money". Pg 244
" oh my pretty face, I don't want to live without my pretty face! Oh what's happened?". Pg 354
Her obsession with beauty is enough to make you feel ill, but times haven't changed much have they?
Perhaps the biggest coupe de grace is that both Gloria and Anthony nearly drive themselves mad in the battle for his $10million inheritance, but it's only when he actually wins that Anthony goes clinically insane.
An ironic touch by Fitzgerald. If there is one thing he is good at, it is in peeling back the layers or lack of in characters and showing what they are really made of.
In this case they are made of nothing more than flour and egg, dashed away when the rains arrive.
When u read a book like this it makes u look at your own life to take your own measure. And I'm pleased to say the only egg and flour you'll find on me is if I've been baking
X
Jh
Next one - slaughterhouse five by Kurt Vonnegut
Monday, 27 February 2012
what I meant to say was...
So it seems to me that when it comes to insulting people and describing people unfavourably, no one does it better than a classic lit book.
Cleverly veiled barbs and hooks are weaved in the prose, designed to sting and take the wind out of any character's sails.
So I thought it might be interesting to translate these insults into modern language just for the fun of it... after all it an insult in any era is enjoyable :p
She was a woman of high fashion -
What they meant to say : she's a vain, materialistic cow
She had a great deal of manners which classed her as the most affected of women-
What they meant to say: She's a boring snob
He was what she would describe as provincial-
What they meant to say: He isn't worth a second glance and is beneath me
She was a woman with a high, free spirit and was very engaging. She was often indelicate in her behaviour with men-
What they meant to say: She's a dirty tramp/slut/whore
He had a pleasant countenance and unaffected manner-
What they meant to say: He's alright
She is tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me-
What they meant to say: She's a feral and no one in their right mind would be interested
She had very cordial feelings toward him-
What they meant to say: She was fantasining about marriage and the names of their babies
His sisters had the air of decided fashion -
What they meant to say: They were snobs who thought they looked better then they actually did
She was a woman of mean understanding, little information and an uncertain temper-
What they meant to say: She was not the sharpest tool in the shed
She had charming, happy manners -
What they meant to say: She didn't throw herself at men like the rest of her trampy friends
She was headstrong and spirited -
What they meant to say: She never did what she was told and enjoyed a good roll in the hay
He had a most ungentlemanly disposition -
What they meant to say: He was a chauvinist pig
She boasted neither cleverness nor beauty -
What they meant to say: She is a butt ugly idiot
She was fond of society -
What they meant to say: She liked to hob nob and lived to kiss ass
He was fond of his own society -
What they meant to say: He was a loner and was most likely into midget porn with the potential to be a serial killer
She had a wilful nature -
What they meant to say: She never did what daddy told her to do
and the best til last...
He was too proud for even his own company -
What they meant to say: He had his head up his ass so far he coudn't see straight
xx
J
Cleverly veiled barbs and hooks are weaved in the prose, designed to sting and take the wind out of any character's sails.
So I thought it might be interesting to translate these insults into modern language just for the fun of it... after all it an insult in any era is enjoyable :p
She was a woman of high fashion -
What they meant to say : she's a vain, materialistic cow
She had a great deal of manners which classed her as the most affected of women-
What they meant to say: She's a boring snob
He was what she would describe as provincial-
What they meant to say: He isn't worth a second glance and is beneath me
She was a woman with a high, free spirit and was very engaging. She was often indelicate in her behaviour with men-
What they meant to say: She's a dirty tramp/slut/whore
He had a pleasant countenance and unaffected manner-
What they meant to say: He's alright
She is tolerable but not handsome enough to tempt me-
What they meant to say: She's a feral and no one in their right mind would be interested
She had very cordial feelings toward him-
What they meant to say: She was fantasining about marriage and the names of their babies
His sisters had the air of decided fashion -
What they meant to say: They were snobs who thought they looked better then they actually did
She was a woman of mean understanding, little information and an uncertain temper-
What they meant to say: She was not the sharpest tool in the shed
She had charming, happy manners -
What they meant to say: She didn't throw herself at men like the rest of her trampy friends
She was headstrong and spirited -
What they meant to say: She never did what she was told and enjoyed a good roll in the hay
He had a most ungentlemanly disposition -
What they meant to say: He was a chauvinist pig
She boasted neither cleverness nor beauty -
What they meant to say: She is a butt ugly idiot
She was fond of society -
What they meant to say: She liked to hob nob and lived to kiss ass
He was fond of his own society -
What they meant to say: He was a loner and was most likely into midget porn with the potential to be a serial killer
She had a wilful nature -
What they meant to say: She never did what daddy told her to do
and the best til last...
He was too proud for even his own company -
What they meant to say: He had his head up his ass so far he coudn't see straight
xx
J
Sunday, 19 February 2012
Classics 101
It's quite hard to resist temptation at the moment.
Everyone struggles with it. The chocolate bar at the till that literally leaps into your hand bag without a second thought or it's the new pair of red shoes you bought because they were on sale but you didn't really need. Or it could be the coworker who is making u think about swapping monogamy for infidelity.
And right now I'm trying very hard to be good. But I really want some candy. Book candy that is.
You know when you read a really challenging, emotionally draining book and you just want to reach for the latest chic lit book for a bit of light relief? Right now I'm craving book fairy floss.
Anything fluffy will do. I just went and saw 'my week with marilyn' and now all I want to do read re-read her autobiography all over again. But I'm trying to stay faithful to the classics.
Only them and nothing but the classics until I finish the top 100. It's perhaps the closest I'll get to being in a committed relationship with mr darcy.
I went to a book store on the weekend and practicality hovered near all the new chic lit books. Fingering the new Jane Green and Marian Keyes book and even considering a re-read of Sophie kinsella's.. Any book candy hit would do.
I was like an addict cruising the book alleyways. Feverish and irrational. Avoiding eye contact with the literature section at all costs.
I stood strong. Yes Jane Green would be much more fun to dive into then Scott Fitzgerald's 'the beautiful and the damned,' at the moment but I'm committed. I'm a one book kind of girl.
So for the sake of my sanity I've made a compromise. I can't read candy but I can still look at it right? So now when u notice a slightly crazed looking woman in your shopping aisle quickly scanning the latest Who or Woman's Weekly don't judge. She might be in the middle of a book candy drought and after her latest fix.
It happens to the best of us
X
J
.
Everyone struggles with it. The chocolate bar at the till that literally leaps into your hand bag without a second thought or it's the new pair of red shoes you bought because they were on sale but you didn't really need. Or it could be the coworker who is making u think about swapping monogamy for infidelity.
And right now I'm trying very hard to be good. But I really want some candy. Book candy that is.
You know when you read a really challenging, emotionally draining book and you just want to reach for the latest chic lit book for a bit of light relief? Right now I'm craving book fairy floss.
Anything fluffy will do. I just went and saw 'my week with marilyn' and now all I want to do read re-read her autobiography all over again. But I'm trying to stay faithful to the classics.
Only them and nothing but the classics until I finish the top 100. It's perhaps the closest I'll get to being in a committed relationship with mr darcy.
I went to a book store on the weekend and practicality hovered near all the new chic lit books. Fingering the new Jane Green and Marian Keyes book and even considering a re-read of Sophie kinsella's.. Any book candy hit would do.
I was like an addict cruising the book alleyways. Feverish and irrational. Avoiding eye contact with the literature section at all costs.
I stood strong. Yes Jane Green would be much more fun to dive into then Scott Fitzgerald's 'the beautiful and the damned,' at the moment but I'm committed. I'm a one book kind of girl.
So for the sake of my sanity I've made a compromise. I can't read candy but I can still look at it right? So now when u notice a slightly crazed looking woman in your shopping aisle quickly scanning the latest Who or Woman's Weekly don't judge. She might be in the middle of a book candy drought and after her latest fix.
It happens to the best of us
X
J
.
Dear Henry
I thought reading Lolita was tortuous. There are worse things. To read 'portrait of a lady' by Henry James..
Most of my friends would probably laugh at this, I'm the last one to lay claim to being a lady so a book dedicated to being one was always going to be a stretch.
The thing was the blurb started out so promising. I would love to have a stern word with the blurb writers at penguin.
Which described it as ' a tale of an independent woman whose main ambition in life is to preserve her independence and embarks on travels to broaden her mind and views. She fails to be ensnared by the trappings of marriage until she meets an American in Italy who catches her attention.'
And it stops there. What it should really say is:
" naively innocent young woman travels to England and finds herself made wealthy by a family member. Spends far too long introvertly analysing her behaviour, morals and the people around her. She is obsessed with doing the right thing, even to the sacrifice of her own happiness. She turns down proposals from two good men who love, admire and appreciate her independence and don't care a bit about her wealth. She instead finds herself married to a man who traps her like a bird in a cage. Like an artifact he has collected, and if that's not bad enough, he appears to have married her for her money and convenience while being involved with one of the very friends who introduced them."
Basically a case of a nice girl going for the wrong guy, the bad guy instead of the 'nice guy.'
It sounds gripping, a bit like melrose place in morning suits type of book but actually it's just plain depressing. She lives her life like a character in a book, not fully embracing it and the fact she just throws her independence away so early in the book just baffles the mind.
And when old suitors come back to woo her and also woo her step daughter, it's even more disorientating.
Henry has the ability to over analyse and completely deconstruct a scene, until it's no longer enjoyable. He directly addresses the reader throughout which makes it plain uncomfortable and I suffered throughout trying to finish it.
Thank god it wasn't the done thing to describe sex scenes back in day. I can only imagine how he would labour over of every lump, bump and hair. It would be enough to put anyone of their breakfast or the act for a long time.
Or at least until dinner time anyways. So its with this in mind I'd like to send a note to mr James.
Dear Henry
We are over. I don't want to read another word from you again. I now know that anyone who praises your work must be a prat, a twat or at the very least boring from the inside out.
Just because you are on the top 100 classic list does not mean you are a good read.
Yours unfaithfully
Jess
X
Most of my friends would probably laugh at this, I'm the last one to lay claim to being a lady so a book dedicated to being one was always going to be a stretch.
The thing was the blurb started out so promising. I would love to have a stern word with the blurb writers at penguin.
Which described it as ' a tale of an independent woman whose main ambition in life is to preserve her independence and embarks on travels to broaden her mind and views. She fails to be ensnared by the trappings of marriage until she meets an American in Italy who catches her attention.'
And it stops there. What it should really say is:
" naively innocent young woman travels to England and finds herself made wealthy by a family member. Spends far too long introvertly analysing her behaviour, morals and the people around her. She is obsessed with doing the right thing, even to the sacrifice of her own happiness. She turns down proposals from two good men who love, admire and appreciate her independence and don't care a bit about her wealth. She instead finds herself married to a man who traps her like a bird in a cage. Like an artifact he has collected, and if that's not bad enough, he appears to have married her for her money and convenience while being involved with one of the very friends who introduced them."
Basically a case of a nice girl going for the wrong guy, the bad guy instead of the 'nice guy.'
It sounds gripping, a bit like melrose place in morning suits type of book but actually it's just plain depressing. She lives her life like a character in a book, not fully embracing it and the fact she just throws her independence away so early in the book just baffles the mind.
And when old suitors come back to woo her and also woo her step daughter, it's even more disorientating.
Henry has the ability to over analyse and completely deconstruct a scene, until it's no longer enjoyable. He directly addresses the reader throughout which makes it plain uncomfortable and I suffered throughout trying to finish it.
Thank god it wasn't the done thing to describe sex scenes back in day. I can only imagine how he would labour over of every lump, bump and hair. It would be enough to put anyone of their breakfast or the act for a long time.
Or at least until dinner time anyways. So its with this in mind I'd like to send a note to mr James.
Dear Henry
We are over. I don't want to read another word from you again. I now know that anyone who praises your work must be a prat, a twat or at the very least boring from the inside out.
Just because you are on the top 100 classic list does not mean you are a good read.
Yours unfaithfully
Jess
X
Sunday, 29 January 2012
Hiding from Henry...
I'm finding Henry James' Portrait of a Lady hard going, a few thoughts on his style so far..
H-arasses every detail
E-ven the beating of a moth's wings is un-missed
N-ever ending words
R-enders the eyes and brain tired
Y-earning for the end
J-uxpostion of characters
A-arbitarily ambigious
M-angled text damaged by psychological analysis
E-nding easy to see (at this point anyway)
S-ocial custom and commentary obsessed
lets hope it improves with the pages.. simply put its about a headstrong, independent American woman who lands in England to pursue her destiny and has to keep her wits on guard against wiley Englishmen.
Quite similiar to time my time overseas to be honest, exchanging the American part for Australian :p
The only part I'm really enjoying right now is the cross disection of english culture and the lead character, Isabel's headstrong nature.
One of the top lines so far:
"The Husband of the elder (sister), Lord Haycock was a very good fellow but unfortunately a horrid tory and his wife, like all good English wives, was worse than her husband."
...ouch! more scathing wit from Isabel to come I hope!
x
J
ps. oh what I'd give for some fitzgerald right now!
H-arasses every detail
E-ven the beating of a moth's wings is un-missed
N-ever ending words
R-enders the eyes and brain tired
Y-earning for the end
J-uxpostion of characters
A-arbitarily ambigious
M-angled text damaged by psychological analysis
E-nding easy to see (at this point anyway)
S-ocial custom and commentary obsessed
lets hope it improves with the pages.. simply put its about a headstrong, independent American woman who lands in England to pursue her destiny and has to keep her wits on guard against wiley Englishmen.
Quite similiar to time my time overseas to be honest, exchanging the American part for Australian :p
The only part I'm really enjoying right now is the cross disection of english culture and the lead character, Isabel's headstrong nature.
One of the top lines so far:
"The Husband of the elder (sister), Lord Haycock was a very good fellow but unfortunately a horrid tory and his wife, like all good English wives, was worse than her husband."
...ouch! more scathing wit from Isabel to come I hope!
x
J
ps. oh what I'd give for some fitzgerald right now!
Wednesday, 25 January 2012
Tuesday, 24 January 2012
A celebrity spotting if ever there was one...
Today I served a trio of celebrities. None other than Newland Archer, May Welland and Ellen Olenksa.
I couldn't quite believe it at first. So much so, I did a double take. And then another, while handing them a menu and seating them at their table of 12.
Surely you've heard of them? Most have. It's not every day you serve coffee to the very characters out of Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence.
No I hadn't by chance found some kind of time portal next to the cuppacino machine which teleported me back to 1870's New York.
And No, I wasn't in the throes of classic literary fever, I didn't even have the hint of a temperature.
They didn't just look like them, they were May, Newland and Olenka, the lead protagonists of Wharton's gorgeous tale of love, yearning, and the constant obsession with the grass always being greener on the other side of the fence.
Why they chose my coffee shop to come into I have no idea but I loved every minute of it.
Newland and May obviously sat together and Ellen was at the other end of the table, diagonal to Newland's line of sight.
He was everything I thought he would be, smart, charming and clearly sitting firmly in the middle of a charmed life, pretty wife by his side. But his eyes were his undoing. They betrayed it all. His disillusionment, his boredom, his panic at being trapped in.
When you looked at him you could literally feel him eyeing his surroundings looking for escape. A window or door leading out to adventure. He wanted convention, tradition and all things proper but also wanted to fly in the face of it. I could see exactly what led him to where he was sitting today. Safety. Security. Fear of the unknown and above all conformity.
His eyes kept darting to Ellen the complete opposite to May. She dark to May's light. She curvy to May's almost anorexic frame.
Any time Ellen's name was mentioned, Newland's ears seemed to prick and his head inclined in her direction. A movement that seemed to make May flinch and draw his arm tighter to her.
Ellen was stoic and strong, charming and smiling to all those around. Seeming to draw from an inner strength of self belief and discard for the judging eyes of others, except for when hers and Newland's eyes met.
A sad recognition and acceptance of their situation fluttered between them. They both seemed so torn and yet so impossible for each other.
The others at the table seemed to dance around the invisible lines that inorexably tied May, Newland and Ellen together.
May was the complete embodiment of decorum and insecurity all in one. She smiled and indulged in hearing about one of Ellen's latest stories or adventures before making a quick retort said pleasantly, but meant as a painful barb. Something about the contentedneas of having a husband, house and life in order and that one of these days Ellen should think about the same. A pointed insinuation that Ellen should return to her own husband.
I could see the already easy resentment building between May and Newland and it was obvious to anyone that while matched well by status they werent matched in temperament or sense of spirit.
When they went out the door I didn't know if they would all continue to be miserable or some how discover a solution to their situation. Ellen clearly stuck in limbo for a man who can't be a man for her, May married to a man who married for safety and to do what was expected of him instead of following his heart or Newland who wanted to both have and eat his cake at the same time. Torn between his duty and his desire.
For characters from a book set in the 1870's I could still see and hear them loud and clear today and its not hard to imagine how it all turns out.
Since guilt, agonising over what if's and unyeilding passion never go out of fashion, I think its safe to say Wharton's classic is timeless.
Well worth a read for all those who are guilty of spending their time dithering so much that they end up forgetting to brave it and live their own life.
X
J
ps... Happy Birthday Ms Wharton, perhaps very fitting that I finished your book on the very day of your 150th birthday.
I couldn't quite believe it at first. So much so, I did a double take. And then another, while handing them a menu and seating them at their table of 12.
Surely you've heard of them? Most have. It's not every day you serve coffee to the very characters out of Edith Wharton's Age of Innocence.
No I hadn't by chance found some kind of time portal next to the cuppacino machine which teleported me back to 1870's New York.
And No, I wasn't in the throes of classic literary fever, I didn't even have the hint of a temperature.
They didn't just look like them, they were May, Newland and Olenka, the lead protagonists of Wharton's gorgeous tale of love, yearning, and the constant obsession with the grass always being greener on the other side of the fence.
Why they chose my coffee shop to come into I have no idea but I loved every minute of it.
Newland and May obviously sat together and Ellen was at the other end of the table, diagonal to Newland's line of sight.
He was everything I thought he would be, smart, charming and clearly sitting firmly in the middle of a charmed life, pretty wife by his side. But his eyes were his undoing. They betrayed it all. His disillusionment, his boredom, his panic at being trapped in.
When you looked at him you could literally feel him eyeing his surroundings looking for escape. A window or door leading out to adventure. He wanted convention, tradition and all things proper but also wanted to fly in the face of it. I could see exactly what led him to where he was sitting today. Safety. Security. Fear of the unknown and above all conformity.
His eyes kept darting to Ellen the complete opposite to May. She dark to May's light. She curvy to May's almost anorexic frame.
Any time Ellen's name was mentioned, Newland's ears seemed to prick and his head inclined in her direction. A movement that seemed to make May flinch and draw his arm tighter to her.
Ellen was stoic and strong, charming and smiling to all those around. Seeming to draw from an inner strength of self belief and discard for the judging eyes of others, except for when hers and Newland's eyes met.
A sad recognition and acceptance of their situation fluttered between them. They both seemed so torn and yet so impossible for each other.
The others at the table seemed to dance around the invisible lines that inorexably tied May, Newland and Ellen together.
May was the complete embodiment of decorum and insecurity all in one. She smiled and indulged in hearing about one of Ellen's latest stories or adventures before making a quick retort said pleasantly, but meant as a painful barb. Something about the contentedneas of having a husband, house and life in order and that one of these days Ellen should think about the same. A pointed insinuation that Ellen should return to her own husband.
I could see the already easy resentment building between May and Newland and it was obvious to anyone that while matched well by status they werent matched in temperament or sense of spirit.
When they went out the door I didn't know if they would all continue to be miserable or some how discover a solution to their situation. Ellen clearly stuck in limbo for a man who can't be a man for her, May married to a man who married for safety and to do what was expected of him instead of following his heart or Newland who wanted to both have and eat his cake at the same time. Torn between his duty and his desire.
For characters from a book set in the 1870's I could still see and hear them loud and clear today and its not hard to imagine how it all turns out.
Since guilt, agonising over what if's and unyeilding passion never go out of fashion, I think its safe to say Wharton's classic is timeless.
Well worth a read for all those who are guilty of spending their time dithering so much that they end up forgetting to brave it and live their own life.
X
J
ps... Happy Birthday Ms Wharton, perhaps very fitting that I finished your book on the very day of your 150th birthday.
Sunday, 22 January 2012
Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins...
As the title and opening line suggests, this is an uncomfortable book to read. In fact Lolita is one of the hardest books I've ever read.
The haunting yearnings of a middle aged man for his pre-pubescent 12 year old step daughter.
Scandalous even now, I can't imagine the furore it would have caused when it first came out.
I felt I was peering into the very mind of a paedophile. It provides intimate descriptions of the accidental touches, sniffing and caressing of his 'nymphet' before he manages to consumate his fantasy into reality.
I'm no book review critic but upon finally finishing it ( 7 tortuous days) I was left wondering why it was on the top 100 literature list.
I suspect the infamy of it's content has raised it's high above the parapet it really deserves.
I found it so hard to read a book full of French colloquialisms and random waffling. Constant drifting from thought to thought. Referring directly to the reader throughout it doesn't really achieve the connection it seeks to make.
I know this isn't an autobiographical book but such is the skill of Vladimir Nabokov that you really are left feeling this is an intimate depiction of his own thoughts and experiences.
How a book can have such a reprehensible character yet retain an audience is puzzling to me. It seems to draw you in with morbid curiosity as to how a young girl could fall into the clutches of a moral-less and despicable man so easily. He proclaims suffocating despair, regrets and sorrow while at the same time licks his lips with glee at the activities he's shared with his precious Lolita, his nymphet. It is in a word, unsettling. Lolita is not loved for who she is but what she appears in his fantasies.
The conclusion leaves nothing but a bitter taste in your mouth and it took gumption to finish it. I struggled to understand the importance or relevance of such a book.
If anything at all Lolita provides insight to the the psychiatric make up of a diabolically lecherous man and a young girl on the verge of understanding her own sensuality, using sex to explore and express herself.
I can understand why many tried to ban it when it first came out but it is important that works such as this exist and continue to be read. Even if it is only to better understand the illness that continues to plague many nromal appearing men today. What's most disturbing about the book, is that it's so realistic. It could happen. It has happened and will continue to happen.
If you think you are unshockable I challenge you to read it. I couldnt help but flinch at some of the prose but I feel all the more stronger for it.
Challenging yourself by reading a emotionally testing book can be even more gratifying then reading for sheer pleasure.
At the end of day, when the book is finished, the last page is closed and its back on the shelf the words last far longer in the mind. It's what you do with them that counts. As for me, I'll never look at young girl and a grown man together the same way again.
xx
J
The haunting yearnings of a middle aged man for his pre-pubescent 12 year old step daughter.
Scandalous even now, I can't imagine the furore it would have caused when it first came out.
I felt I was peering into the very mind of a paedophile. It provides intimate descriptions of the accidental touches, sniffing and caressing of his 'nymphet' before he manages to consumate his fantasy into reality.
I'm no book review critic but upon finally finishing it ( 7 tortuous days) I was left wondering why it was on the top 100 literature list.
I suspect the infamy of it's content has raised it's high above the parapet it really deserves.
I found it so hard to read a book full of French colloquialisms and random waffling. Constant drifting from thought to thought. Referring directly to the reader throughout it doesn't really achieve the connection it seeks to make.
I know this isn't an autobiographical book but such is the skill of Vladimir Nabokov that you really are left feeling this is an intimate depiction of his own thoughts and experiences.
How a book can have such a reprehensible character yet retain an audience is puzzling to me. It seems to draw you in with morbid curiosity as to how a young girl could fall into the clutches of a moral-less and despicable man so easily. He proclaims suffocating despair, regrets and sorrow while at the same time licks his lips with glee at the activities he's shared with his precious Lolita, his nymphet. It is in a word, unsettling. Lolita is not loved for who she is but what she appears in his fantasies.
The conclusion leaves nothing but a bitter taste in your mouth and it took gumption to finish it. I struggled to understand the importance or relevance of such a book.
If anything at all Lolita provides insight to the the psychiatric make up of a diabolically lecherous man and a young girl on the verge of understanding her own sensuality, using sex to explore and express herself.
I can understand why many tried to ban it when it first came out but it is important that works such as this exist and continue to be read. Even if it is only to better understand the illness that continues to plague many nromal appearing men today. What's most disturbing about the book, is that it's so realistic. It could happen. It has happened and will continue to happen.
If you think you are unshockable I challenge you to read it. I couldnt help but flinch at some of the prose but I feel all the more stronger for it.
Challenging yourself by reading a emotionally testing book can be even more gratifying then reading for sheer pleasure.
At the end of day, when the book is finished, the last page is closed and its back on the shelf the words last far longer in the mind. It's what you do with them that counts. As for me, I'll never look at young girl and a grown man together the same way again.
xx
J
Monday, 16 January 2012
G is for Gatsby
Most people have read fitzgerald. By that I mean F. Scott Fitzgerald, and in saying that, most know of or have read 'The Great Gatsby'.
I had not. I had gleaned of what it was roughly about in highschool once, but it never was a book we studied or read.
Or most importantly one I sought out. It was however the first one I was drawn to when consulting my 100 list courtesy of The Modern Library.
I skipped the introduction and forward and jumped right in. With news that Leonardo DiCaprio is set to star as the mysterious Jay Gatsby himself and Tobey Maguire as Nick Carraway in a film adaptation of the book later this year I couldn't help but picture their faces when following the story.
It's an understatement to say I adored it. While focusing on troublesome times of an altogether different era, it holds its own even today.
Perhaps I'm in the throes of classic maddness but I do see elements of Gatsby and Nick Carraway in everyone.
I've met many a Gatsby who has constructed a life around them that they think they want, that shows them in the best light, that allows them to forget and scrub away the stains of times past and begin a new.
Those who find themselves trapped in their own lies, lonely even in their own company and who seek unattenable dreams that sometimes are best left as pleasant day dreams.
This is the plague of Gatsby and I doubt there is a single person who reads it who doesn't identify with him to some extent or recognise their partners or friends or colleagues in him.
He's surrounded by many but always alone and never, ever openly lets himself out.
What could possibly be worse? Well to be Nick Carraway of course. The perennial observer, an outsider always analysing and judging the lives of others including his own. A person who never really plays his part or lives his own life. He more or less watches his life being lived beside or in front of him. Always one step ahead or to the side and looking back, instead of revelling in the moment.
Oh I know a lot of Nick Carraways and when procrastination gets the better of me, I do can indulge in a few Carraway traits. Self loathing and analysis, distance from others and questioning what would be the 'right thing to do'. Perhaps the one thing I took out of the book was, that it's not so much about the right thing to do, but the doing of something that matters.
What perhaps fascinated me the most was I intended to read through this list from the perspective of a writer and prospective author, studying the prose and gaining insight into my style and how I protray the characters in my novel which is still stuck at infancy.
Instead I became completely absorbed in the characters, in the setting, in the polar opposites and at the same time, striking similiarities between Nick and Gatsby and the emotional manipulations of Tom and Daisy Buchanan.
The only redeemable feature of both Daisy and Tom is their love of each other and ability to save their own skins. Perhaps this is an unfair judgement but they both come off in the end as remarkably cold hearted.
The real key to this book is the characters. I completely became entrapped in trying to understand Gatsby and seek some insight and depth to Carraway.
If that's one lesson I take away from the intermidablly talented Fitzgerald, its that if you make the reader fall in love with the character, they fall in love with the book.
Consider me suitably infatuated.
x
J
I had not. I had gleaned of what it was roughly about in highschool once, but it never was a book we studied or read.
Or most importantly one I sought out. It was however the first one I was drawn to when consulting my 100 list courtesy of The Modern Library.
I skipped the introduction and forward and jumped right in. With news that Leonardo DiCaprio is set to star as the mysterious Jay Gatsby himself and Tobey Maguire as Nick Carraway in a film adaptation of the book later this year I couldn't help but picture their faces when following the story.
It's an understatement to say I adored it. While focusing on troublesome times of an altogether different era, it holds its own even today.
Perhaps I'm in the throes of classic maddness but I do see elements of Gatsby and Nick Carraway in everyone.
I've met many a Gatsby who has constructed a life around them that they think they want, that shows them in the best light, that allows them to forget and scrub away the stains of times past and begin a new.
Those who find themselves trapped in their own lies, lonely even in their own company and who seek unattenable dreams that sometimes are best left as pleasant day dreams.
This is the plague of Gatsby and I doubt there is a single person who reads it who doesn't identify with him to some extent or recognise their partners or friends or colleagues in him.
He's surrounded by many but always alone and never, ever openly lets himself out.
What could possibly be worse? Well to be Nick Carraway of course. The perennial observer, an outsider always analysing and judging the lives of others including his own. A person who never really plays his part or lives his own life. He more or less watches his life being lived beside or in front of him. Always one step ahead or to the side and looking back, instead of revelling in the moment.
Oh I know a lot of Nick Carraways and when procrastination gets the better of me, I do can indulge in a few Carraway traits. Self loathing and analysis, distance from others and questioning what would be the 'right thing to do'. Perhaps the one thing I took out of the book was, that it's not so much about the right thing to do, but the doing of something that matters.
What perhaps fascinated me the most was I intended to read through this list from the perspective of a writer and prospective author, studying the prose and gaining insight into my style and how I protray the characters in my novel which is still stuck at infancy.
Instead I became completely absorbed in the characters, in the setting, in the polar opposites and at the same time, striking similiarities between Nick and Gatsby and the emotional manipulations of Tom and Daisy Buchanan.
The only redeemable feature of both Daisy and Tom is their love of each other and ability to save their own skins. Perhaps this is an unfair judgement but they both come off in the end as remarkably cold hearted.
The real key to this book is the characters. I completely became entrapped in trying to understand Gatsby and seek some insight and depth to Carraway.
If that's one lesson I take away from the intermidablly talented Fitzgerald, its that if you make the reader fall in love with the character, they fall in love with the book.
Consider me suitably infatuated.
x
J
the re-education of the reader within...
I may have just set myself a challenge that is a bit beyond me. It requires endurance, patience and persistence.
A marathon of sorts, not for the body but for the mind. The question is just how many classics can one person read in a row before turning mad? Before they start believing that Mr Darcy lurks around every corner and sees elements of Gatsby in every person they meet?
Well I'm not sure , but I already do this so perhaps I'm lost before I've already begun.
You see I've always been a self-confessed book nerd with a voracious appetite. Always looking for my next hit, something that I can shoot into my veins to stir the heart, emotions and mind.
There is no greater thrill or rush better than discovering a truly orgasmic book for the first time. You long to savour the story and characters but also want to rush to the conclusion.
But when you turn that final page, nothing but bittersweet regret lingers, you'll never read that book for the first time again. And so begins the search for another and another.
If anyone were to peak through a door crack to observe me when ensconced in one of my many romantic dalliances with both books and the authors themselves, you'd catch me in a state of bliss. I often am caught pausing, closing my eyes and internally savouring the delicious prose I've only minutes ago, just consumed.
It can become an overwhelming addiction, I can assure you. So I suppose to tame the beast and also nourish the writer I'm trying so hard to grow within, I have decided to jump into the 20th century era classics and read the crème de la crème of them. The top 100 classics from top to tail in 365 days. No skipping, no reading forwards or movie adaptations, introductions in advance and definitely no reading notes. Solemnly absorbing them one by one. For a full list see my previous blog: http://justcallmeacountrygirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/no-92.html
Don’t worry you won’t be reading blog after blog of analytical reviews of the books, just some witty (where possible) insights into how relevant these classics are to us today and just what a wayward writer and aspiring author can hope to learn from them.
So despite the risk of falling into classic madness which I fear I already suffer, at the very least a classic obsession, I will begin.
xx
J
A marathon of sorts, not for the body but for the mind. The question is just how many classics can one person read in a row before turning mad? Before they start believing that Mr Darcy lurks around every corner and sees elements of Gatsby in every person they meet?
Well I'm not sure , but I already do this so perhaps I'm lost before I've already begun.
You see I've always been a self-confessed book nerd with a voracious appetite. Always looking for my next hit, something that I can shoot into my veins to stir the heart, emotions and mind.
There is no greater thrill or rush better than discovering a truly orgasmic book for the first time. You long to savour the story and characters but also want to rush to the conclusion.
But when you turn that final page, nothing but bittersweet regret lingers, you'll never read that book for the first time again. And so begins the search for another and another.
If anyone were to peak through a door crack to observe me when ensconced in one of my many romantic dalliances with both books and the authors themselves, you'd catch me in a state of bliss. I often am caught pausing, closing my eyes and internally savouring the delicious prose I've only minutes ago, just consumed.
It can become an overwhelming addiction, I can assure you. So I suppose to tame the beast and also nourish the writer I'm trying so hard to grow within, I have decided to jump into the 20th century era classics and read the crème de la crème of them. The top 100 classics from top to tail in 365 days. No skipping, no reading forwards or movie adaptations, introductions in advance and definitely no reading notes. Solemnly absorbing them one by one. For a full list see my previous blog: http://justcallmeacountrygirl.blogspot.com/2012/01/no-92.html
Don’t worry you won’t be reading blog after blog of analytical reviews of the books, just some witty (where possible) insights into how relevant these classics are to us today and just what a wayward writer and aspiring author can hope to learn from them.
So despite the risk of falling into classic madness which I fear I already suffer, at the very least a classic obsession, I will begin.
xx
J
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