Yes, I have once more got Anna Karenina out of the library and, once more, failed to even open it.
I may never manage it.
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Monday, August 31, 2009
Something old, borrowed, new?
WARNING: Spoilers if you have not yet read Pride & Prejudice. Even if your beloved other half bought it for you ages ago. And yes, that OH may not have read all your gifts, but this particular book might just happen to be one of the aforementioned O.H.'s favourite books of all time and if she could be anyone in literature, it would probably be the main character.
Where was I? Ah, yes, after all the preamble of spoiler warnings, I wanted to note that, while away holidaying, I read with a mixture of amusement, fascination and horror, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. It was... pretty good, actually. I have just two grumbles. One, it makes use of puns on "balls" much more than I really think any book needs, let alone an Austen, updated or otherwise (too much of something blue, methinks). Two, part of its very joy - things "falling into place" in the plot - are things that I find on some level troublesome and, really, a failure to understand the importance of the original. For example, Charlotte's decision to marry Mr. Collins makes much more sense, according to some reviews. But of course, in the original, her decision is due to feeling in danger of being left on the shelf, being stuck at home with her parents, and without anyone to take care of her were they to die before she married. The things that don't seem to "make sense" actually do when you look at them through the prism of how clearly women did lack choices and control over their lives.
Nonetheless, I'm not trying to write it off or be (too) humourless about the book. There is an interesting look at gender in both, and knowing the original is essential for getting the point of the later version. In P&P&Z, a large proportion of the nation's defenders the scourge of zombies are unmarried women*; a woman's worth is partly based on her immense strength and ability to kill zombies - Lady Catherine is an absolute legend in that field, which aids the narration by explaining why such an awful woman is so greatly esteemed. P&P&Z elevates women and explicitly recognises how vital they are to a nation's health; it also mocks the things that women were actually valued for - not strength or intellect, but sewing and being gentle and playing the piano - not that playing the piano isn't awesome, but it doesn't make you worth having a relationship with - unless you're really good, I suppose.
What reading P&P&Z mainly brought about was the renewing of my obsession with Austen books, and I have just re-read Persuasion in a day. I do utterly love that book. P&P does win out for me, but the older I get, the more Anne Elliot resonates, and the sadder and more thrilling the story. Maybe it's time to re-visit Emma, too, and of course, Sense & Sensibility - before S&S & Sea Monsters emerges. Would that I were joking.
* When they are married, they cease this work to devote themselves to the presumably much more important job of getting pregnant.
Cross-posted at Grace Goes Abroad.
Where was I? Ah, yes, after all the preamble of spoiler warnings, I wanted to note that, while away holidaying, I read with a mixture of amusement, fascination and horror, Pride and Prejudice and Zombies. It was... pretty good, actually. I have just two grumbles. One, it makes use of puns on "balls" much more than I really think any book needs, let alone an Austen, updated or otherwise (too much of something blue, methinks). Two, part of its very joy - things "falling into place" in the plot - are things that I find on some level troublesome and, really, a failure to understand the importance of the original. For example, Charlotte's decision to marry Mr. Collins makes much more sense, according to some reviews. But of course, in the original, her decision is due to feeling in danger of being left on the shelf, being stuck at home with her parents, and without anyone to take care of her were they to die before she married. The things that don't seem to "make sense" actually do when you look at them through the prism of how clearly women did lack choices and control over their lives.
Nonetheless, I'm not trying to write it off or be (too) humourless about the book. There is an interesting look at gender in both, and knowing the original is essential for getting the point of the later version. In P&P&Z, a large proportion of the nation's defenders the scourge of zombies are unmarried women*; a woman's worth is partly based on her immense strength and ability to kill zombies - Lady Catherine is an absolute legend in that field, which aids the narration by explaining why such an awful woman is so greatly esteemed. P&P&Z elevates women and explicitly recognises how vital they are to a nation's health; it also mocks the things that women were actually valued for - not strength or intellect, but sewing and being gentle and playing the piano - not that playing the piano isn't awesome, but it doesn't make you worth having a relationship with - unless you're really good, I suppose.
What reading P&P&Z mainly brought about was the renewing of my obsession with Austen books, and I have just re-read Persuasion in a day. I do utterly love that book. P&P does win out for me, but the older I get, the more Anne Elliot resonates, and the sadder and more thrilling the story. Maybe it's time to re-visit Emma, too, and of course, Sense & Sensibility - before S&S & Sea Monsters emerges. Would that I were joking.
* When they are married, they cease this work to devote themselves to the presumably much more important job of getting pregnant.
Cross-posted at Grace Goes Abroad.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The Price of Quality
I've been trying to buy some DVDs of classic movies, because recently we've been turning to classics when tired and stressed. A few weeks ago it was Casablanca, and last night I watched the greatest music movie of all time - including even This Is Spinal Tap - A Hard Day's Night. But what I really wanted to make sure we have are Top Hat, The Third Man, and A Night at the Opera. Yet it's impossible to get The Third Man for under $30; Top Hat is not quite as expensive, but similarly uncheap. Why are they so much? You'd have thought less in terms of copyright issues, but somehow it's not the case.
Regardless of the reason, it's annoying. They're totally worth it, but I resent the movie peeps / retailers making these classics more unavailable to the masses. Including me.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Getting Round to Things
I finally read two books that I have wanted to read for a long time but have not yet managed.
First, We Need to Talk about Kevin by Lionel Shriver. It won the Orange Prize in 2005. It is a deeply traumatising and utterly compelling book. It is not the book to read if you are worried about becoming a mother. I wondered often what it was like to read this if you do have children. I imagine for some it would be unbearable to read about how this woman fails to connect with her child and her myriad disappointments and misery thanks to her (lack of) relationship with her child. For others, I imagine they repeatedly say "thank you" for identifying the misery and the inability to truly love her child. All this was very interesting in light of an article published by the Daily Mail a couple of weeks ago in which a mother publicly stated that she didn't really like her daughter. That was probably not the way to go about things, particularly when talking about how much she loves her other daughter. Yet, that's what this book is all about. For those of us who doubt whether we do want to have children, I could empathise with much of this book, yet you could see how much damage she did. It was a really extraordinary book. Apparently she had tremendous trouble finding someone to publish it, but I am very glad she did.
The next book was Ender's Game. It is a classic piece of science fiction, and my mother is mad about it. I basically inhaled it last Sunday, and I really, really recommend it. It's such an interesting question of morality, of reacting to things beyond your control with violence or force, and how people channel their gifts and use them for good or ill. Very interesting, particularly in its discussion of pre-emptive force - it's the Bush Doctrine!
Next up: Going to read some more classic fiction. Just not sure what, yet.
First, We Need to Talk about Kevin by Lionel Shriver. It won the Orange Prize in 2005. It is a deeply traumatising and utterly compelling book. It is not the book to read if you are worried about becoming a mother. I wondered often what it was like to read this if you do have children. I imagine for some it would be unbearable to read about how this woman fails to connect with her child and her myriad disappointments and misery thanks to her (lack of) relationship with her child. For others, I imagine they repeatedly say "thank you" for identifying the misery and the inability to truly love her child. All this was very interesting in light of an article published by the Daily Mail a couple of weeks ago in which a mother publicly stated that she didn't really like her daughter. That was probably not the way to go about things, particularly when talking about how much she loves her other daughter. Yet, that's what this book is all about. For those of us who doubt whether we do want to have children, I could empathise with much of this book, yet you could see how much damage she did. It was a really extraordinary book. Apparently she had tremendous trouble finding someone to publish it, but I am very glad she did.
The next book was Ender's Game. It is a classic piece of science fiction, and my mother is mad about it. I basically inhaled it last Sunday, and I really, really recommend it. It's such an interesting question of morality, of reacting to things beyond your control with violence or force, and how people channel their gifts and use them for good or ill. Very interesting, particularly in its discussion of pre-emptive force - it's the Bush Doctrine!
Next up: Going to read some more classic fiction. Just not sure what, yet.
Monday, December 29, 2008
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!
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!
Friday, December 19, 2008
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 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!
Thursday, October 2, 2008
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.
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