Terrifying

This blog is generally about things that we have not read, and ways to make us feel bad about not having achieved them, but also good about finally getting through them. One thing that I generally don't do is read enough politically-motivated stuff, for several reasons, most of which boil down to not wanting to have to deal with it. If it's written from a perspective with which I agree I simply get enraged at the horrors; if it's written from an opposite view, I lazily refuse to engage and don't rigorously work out why I believe it's wrong and, most importantly, how I can argue with it. Which is not particularly good for a lawyer.

I've read two books this year on the fallout from 9/11 that are the exceptions that prove the rule, as they stand out against my usual detective fiction. First, The Terror Dream by Susan Faludi. Second, The Terror Presidency by Jack Goldsmith. The Terror Dream has been ably reviewed here; I really am not going to fully analyse it. However, it really engaged me on thoughts of gender and prompted me to consider my own scholarship on the role of war and gender, and how war changes so much and yet so little. My masters thesis studied the advancement of female British scientists in World War II; my conclusion was, essentially, that it was really an empty opportunity, unlike those presented in the factories. Male scientists continued to dominate the field, and the war did very little to change the perceptions of scientists as men - Robert Oppenheimer, Alan Turing, Richard Feynman - all were catapaulted into modern consciousness through their roles, and women were generally used as processors rather than thinkers. Faludi argues that 9/11 prompted a reversion to gender roles supposedly overcome, if not completely, by the rise of feminism and equality: the man as superhero, provider, hunter, fighter, warrior, protector of the helpless female. War is such an incredible lens for gender relations because, despite the increasing number of British women in the armed forces, our portrayals of heroes still seems to limit those things for which women can be considered heroic, helpful or patriotic.

The Terror Presidency was a very different book. It was Jack Goldsmith's account of his time in the Office of Legal Counsel in the White House, which spanned 2003-2004. He provides explanations for the Bush Administration's utter disregard for civil liberties by citing sheer fear, due to terror reports and intelligence, and a view of the Constitution at odds with that of most of the educated and lay public. He is conservative, writes conservatively on international law, and I tend to disagree with him about almost everything. However, the book is utterly compelling; I read almost all of it on the plane between London and New York yesterday. His critique of the Bush Adminstration is not what its aims were, generally, on the policy against terrorism, but its means of achieving them, through the unitary executive theory and the explicit attempts to expand presidential power. I think Goldsmith is disingenuous in certain regards; he utterly fails to deal with the "unlawful enemy combantant" label that the Bush Administration purported, sweeping it under the carpet by simply repeating over and over that the type of situation was unprecedented. That this term is utterly unknown within international law is merely an inconvenience due to lack of experience with these terms. That nations have been dealing with terrorism from within and without for around a century is apparently irrelevant to Goldsmith's analysis. Nonetheless, it is a short and incredibly important read. I'm not sure how much legalese is used - that which I think is easy to understand may not be due to jargon and general familiarity with the concepts. However, the depictions of the power dynamics are an important addition to our knowledge of the response to 9/11 and the damage wrought by this administration. Roll on January 20th!

2008's Reading Achievements

This year, from the Observer's top 100, I have read (having not previously read):

The Trial (# 49*)
Lanark (#86)

I also started Money and Scoop, but failed to finish them, having been thwarted by the NYPL and its ability to recall your books. Great when you want them, not so much when you have to return them when you've not got round to reading them. My problem is that I'm too greedy, and I want them all at once. I don't pace myself with my book orders; I forget that it's not like Netflix with your "only two at a time" business.** Maybe I should suggest that... I also read other things by authors on this list, at least, such as The Stranger by Camus, Bleak House by Dickens (which I adored).

Of the two "classics," The Trial was by far my favourite. I took Lanark with me to Africa, and it really was not the suitable time or place for it. Some books are just meant to be read - or not read - in certain climes; certainly, Lanark deserved grey skies and mizzle, not scorching blue skies and turquoise seas. The Trial we read in law school, clearly oppressive enough a climate for me.

Ah well, next year to become more erudite. Plus, I have another book club, which hopefully will increase my posting, reading, and general fabulousness.

* The list is done chronologically, not in order of brilliance.

** Along those lines, just found out that The Terror Presidency by Jack Goldsmith has been recalled. Dammit!

The Forum

Cerebus kindly gave me membership to the Film Forum for Christmas last year. We have very fond memories of being members of the NFT, which led to seeing many fabulous films and drinks on the river - one of my favourite things about London.

Nonetheless, we have made a pitiful attempt to use this membership. I think the reasons are several. First, the location. It's not that far away from Cerebus and NYU, but it was just that little bit too far downtown. Unlike the Thames, which was a central (geographically and socially) part of our lives, we don't wander around that part of town very often. There are no really good bars very nearby... it's just a bit out of our way. This is evidenced by bumping into Cerebus' professor, who lives round the corner in NYU housing and so it's his local cinema. That, and the Angelika, IFC... so lucky. That's a bonus of Greenwich Village that I'd not really thought about previously. Second, the movie selections. Actually, that's not entirely fair -there have been some great selections, such as those in the United Artists celebrations. Still, it's just a bit more "out there" than the seasons for which we loved buying tickets - such as the Jimmy Stewart, or the Kurosawa. Third, timing. There was a fabulous looking French noir season (yes, I get that's funny), which would have been perfect as it was after the Bar. But, of course, I was away, and so all that opportunity for daytime visits was missed.

This is all prelude to the fact that we're making a conscious attempt to go more often in the final months of the year. Hence, Tuesday, we found ourselves watching Alexsandr Nevsky. It was... bizarre. For thems that don't know, it was a Stalin-initiated movie to act as propaganda against Nazi Germany. Prokofiev scored it. I've never seen an Eisenstein movie before, but it was remarkable. Lots of it was very, very funny - I hope intentionally (sample: The Prince Alexsandr stops fighting the Mongols to yell "Quick - the fish are getting away!" - bizarre), but I'm not convinced. The bit where the Russians attack the Germans features some very, very odd music - it jars, as it's almost Marx-brothers-esque, sort of comedic, rather than heroic. But the part where leading up to the German attack is spectacular. It's set on the icy steppes, and full of menace. The music is apt at that point, low, throbbing and threatening, oppressive, making the charge of the Germans genuinely frightening. The suspense is drawn out, but excellently effective. Regardless of the humour throughout, it looked absolutely wonderful all the way through - the framing of shots, the demonstration of the horror of German cruelty, all were incredible.

Not subtle, but excellent. I'm definitely off to more, hopefully soon. Hopefully.

The Art of Travel

The six week trip from which I've just returned was not abundant with reading, but I certainly went through a fair few (almost making the almost certainly-mahoosive fines from the library worthwhile). The following were among those on my list:

• To The Lighthouse, Virginia Woolf
  
• The Grass Is Singing, Doris Lessing
• The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, Michael Chabon

I also managed to watch two Woody Allen classics, Manhattan and Annie Hall. So not bad going at all. I enjoyed them a great deal, although probably not as much as I thought I would.

Of the books, the best I read, by far, was the astonishing debut by Lessing. It is a truly remarkable book. It simmers with tension - everything in it is singing with the overwhelming oppression felt by everyone in South Africa at that time - white men through the heat and the pace of reform, white women through their roles as women, and the general humiliation, horror and nightmare of the black African's life. The menace emanated through the clear, simple prose. I read it at the time when we were feeling particularly isolated and weird in Mozambique; on every trip of length you feel weird at some point, and the book coincided with that, and feeling tense because at this point one of the guys there was trying to proposition my friend, another was obsessively trying to get her to marry him or get him a visa, and we were suddenly aware of the isolation of the tent, the noises everywhere, and not speaking the language, being trapped there. Except, of course, we weren't, but the novel heightened all these sensations and observations.

Therefore, I am desperate to read more Lessing. When I pay off my library fines (that may well take some time), I will head to The Golden Notebook. Lessing's acute observations, wry turns of phrase and general humour are excellent. Even more so, she was writing extraordinary things about the constraints of women and black people in society well before things started changing and there was international pressure to progress from these conditions.

Breathless

Our Prof in Law & Lit scoffed at us for our general dislike of The Trial, but I think he fails to understand the word "like." There were aspects I disliked (the treatment of women seems dubious), but that doesn't deny its many aspects of brilliance. This led to a rather heated discussion on the subway home last night - oh, how our fellow passengers must have loved us.

K could not breathe within the legal system. It corrupts, overwhelms, destroys us so much that it denies our basic functions. The lack of air is something that Lumet uses in to great effect in The Verdict - Frank Galvin is constantly out of breath, running up and down stairs. The presence of law makes everyone unhealthy - the lawyer, Galvin, and the client, K. The extent of the physical deterioration is evident, as the court officials in the tenement cannot breathe properly outside its doors. Even the Court portrait painter chooses to live without air.

Of course, this fundamental physical corruption indicates erosion of the soul and morals. Even the priest is in on it, part of the system both in employment and his behaviour: he tricks K into meeting him, rather than arranging it directly. And the church - albeit on a Thursday morning - is cavernously empty, in comparison to every court or legal proceeding K goes to, teeming with people. We've abandoned God for bureaucracy, for procedures. Even the days indicate that - a mobbed court on a Sunday, empty cathedral on a Thurdsay.

Apparently, this is what being a lawyer does to you. Can't wait!

Horses and Happenings

This weekend has been a monumental one for the viewing of classic movies. Hence the jumbled list of labels for this post below. I watched: Network; The Talk of the Town; It Happened One Night; and, finally in full, The Godfather.

I'm not going to go indepth about these, but I stumbled upon a couple of things that made me think / leap for joy / pause etc.... that is, I reacted to them and wish to share them with you.

1. TCM on Demand is a simply glorious addition to my life! That's how I watched both The Talk of the Town and It Happened One Night. It's not TCM on Demand, per se, but Free Movies on Demand, which has free Sundance and TCM and something else... absolutely phenomenal and a resource I shall exploit further, particularly when it's a cold, miserable afternoon in winter and I need warming up spiritually. See (2) below for more...
   
2. The Talk of the Town is not a "classic" in the sense of the others, but I'm a sucker for anything with Cary Grant in it. I realised that I will watch a romcom of old, but nothing made in the last thirty years with that description unless someone gives me a compelling reason to (gun against head, torture of my cats, etc.). I think it's because those romcoms were actually a) romatic and b) funny, thus fulfilling the "com" part of it. Sharp, witty, funny, they treated it as serious business, by and large, and the classic ones had glorious scripts - where women may have had stereotyped roles but were fast and funny and smart. Doesn't really describe "Good Luck, Chuck", now does it?
   This movie was also interesting for its depiction of a man who knows what's just (Grant's character, on trial for arson & murder he did not commit), and the law professor who sits stuffily in his room but is about to be appointed to the Supreme Court. We've been studying the lawyer and the moral attorney / person, but the law professor and the law propagated there hasn't been touched upon, and I think there's a wealth of stuff there - are they complicit? Completely, Thane would say, but I think it's an interesting question, possibly to be further studied by yours truly.
3. The Godfather was much better than when I was fifteen; while it was not the best movie I've ever seen, I could at least see something of what others see in it. Again, the opening scene is interesting, because Buonasera talks of how the sentencing of his daughter's attackers, rather than giving him relief, humiliated him. He put faith in "being American," abiding by the rules, going through the system, and it failed him. That wasn't justice. So he has to go outside the law to do so. You wonder what would have satisfied him, but presumably jailtime, and he wouldn't have felt the need to come to the Don. Michael's gradual hardening is horrific to watch. If only every time the music came on when he was in Sicily I hadn't thought of the Colin Corleone sketch from the Glam Metal Detectives...* Nonetheless, it was excellent and I didn't fall asleep once - which, for me in a three-hour movie watched on my sofa on a Sunday night, is not guaranteed.
4. Network was extremely, unexpectedly, funny, and Faye Dunaway is my new heroine - she was extraordinary in this movie. Bonnie & Clyde here we come!
   

* After the beginning "titles," go straight to about 4:30 and hear more of the music... gargling seems to work extremely effectively.

Second Time Around

I first read To Kill a Mockingbird for GCSE English, so (ulp) a mere thirteen years ago. At the time, I thought it was very good, but with the caveat that it was hard to write about, when compared with the symbolism replete throughout Macbeth and Lord of the Flies, the other two major texts we studied.

Re-reading it has been extraordinary. No wonder it is in the top novels that people re-read, according to this guardian article. Yet re-reading is often because it will provide comfort; we know how the story ends, and the torment beforehand is worth it for the resolution. Here, the resolution is not that justice is done, and that makes it unbearable - I know what's coming, and there's nothing I can do to prevent it. If anything, it's worse this time around.

But the book itself is wonderful, so rich in wry and amusing turns of phrase that I missed the first time around: when talking of her aunt and uncle's state of matrimony, Scout observes that Long ago, in a burst of friendliness, Aunty and Uncle Jimmy produced a son named Henry... It is full of one-liners that got forgotten - the writing itself was not remembered, just the story. Yet the writing has filled me with as much glee and emotion as the story itself, which is the revelatory aspect. Reading it this time around has been much like reading Lolita for the first time, the revelling in the language and its depth of perception, detail and humour. That has been particularly important given its subject matter.

Further, it really has brought home the rural nature of Maycomb County and the sheer, hellish poverty in which people lived. Perhaps having read Invisible Man in the intervening years has brought me a greater appreciation of the desperate circumstances in which people lived, and how poor white people clung onto segregation for the basic reason that they needed someone beneath them, to look down upon, just as the "respectable" folks did to them. Scout's portrait of Mayella Ewell's utterly lonely, miserable and hopeless life is heartbreaking. It is done with the perception of a child, but the wisdom and hindsight of an adult. It is horrific, and yet Atticus' closing argument brooks no sympathy for that fact as, quite frankly, she should have known better. Not for her sake, but for Tom's. Because Tom did not enjoy the luxury or privilege that she did: whiteness.

Of course, I am reading this within a course on perceptions and portrayals of the law by the artist. I'll report back on our class discussion and what Thane has to say next time around. But the pleasure of re-reading has been really rather striking, yet it seems that it is an entirely different, new book, so much more am I getting from it.

Legal Action

I'm taking a course on Law & Literature this semester. The idea is to think outside the external, tangible and, fundamentally, legal, to try to think about the intrinsic, the intangible, the moral. To see how artists perceive our career choice, our system, but most of all, concepts of justice - both descriptively and normatively. It should be interesting. At least, our prof wants to make sure that, at a cocktail party, we're "interesting."

Mostly, I'm just very excited about what we get to read; the book list, which I'm going to purchase this morning (those that I don't already own, obviously):

• Harper Lee - To Kill a Mockingbird
• Franz Kafka - The Trial
• Albert Camus - The Stranger
• Herman Melville - Bartleby and Billy Budd, Sailor
• Sophocles, Oedipus The King
• Shakespeare, The Merchant of Venice
• Ei Doctorow - The book of Daniel
• Charles Dickens - Bleak House

We also have to watch Sidney Lumet's "The Verdict". Paul Newman. Shame.

British Talent

The Times today has a list of the top 50 authors to come from the British shore since 1945. Well, to have produced their "most enduring works" since 1945. It is fairly interesting; some are utterly familiar to me (Dahl, obviously, Pullman, Rowling, Orwell), whereas others I know of but haven't read (either Amis), or haven't really heard of (generally modern poets). However, it's a useful guide for things to try and have a crack at this year. I have friends who aver that the best writers / books in the past century (in English) have, generally, come out of the States. I'm not convinced entirely. The post-colonial literature of India and Africa is growing and remarkable; plus, this list shows that there have been more than a few decent homegrown writers. Still, not many recent ones.

However, my main point is that I'm not really in a position to comment, having read so few of these or, really, of the modern US folks. So again this year I shall attempt to catch up. Fat chance, but I may give it a good old try, for once.

Forum

One of the best presents I have ever received was my membership to the NFT. We saw many glorious movies; I fell asleep in at least two Kurosawa classics. Well, this year, we are attempting to recreate that through membership to the Film Forum in NYC. I have been taking a peek through the schedule for the upcoming months. Very excited about Anatomy of a Murder, which hopefully will be stellar entertainment as well as of geeky lawyerly interest. Of course, however, I've just noticed that it's tomorrow and Saturday and, therefore, I shall be missing it.

But there is a Sidney Lumet retrospective (The Verdict and 12 Angry Men - double lawyer geek!), along with a Preminger one that's already started. And a United Artists 90th Anniversary season, with notable films (that presumably will show) including Spellbound, Stagecoach, Rebecca, High Noon, The African Queen, The Night of the Hunter, 12 Angry Men (again) and, best of all Some Like It Hot (and that's before the 1960s have even started!). I must go and see things I've not seen. Hmm.

However, the other thing I've resolved to do is to watch more of the "classic" films due to the wonders of Netflix. So now just need suggestions as to which list of classic movies to use. After all, IMDB does have a bit of the "new" about it but, looking at it again, it's fairly reliable, it seems. Any other suggestions?