Rest in peace, Superman.
CNN Obituary.
Founding Brothers
A crossposting of a review I wrote at Blogcritics:
Strolling through the library shelves, I found this double-DVD and remembered I had wanted to see it when the History Channel originally broadcast it. For that reason, along with the added benefit that I might learn something of use to pass on to my students when I teach Revolutionary Literature in a week or so, I borrowed Founding Brothers, the companion to Joseph J. Ellis’s Pulitzer Prize-winning book.
This outstanding documentary examines several of the revolutionaries’ impact on the framing of our country. The familiar history is delivered, along with interesting commentary from historical biographers and professors. I found their insights and tangents into lesser-known history very intriguing. Especially informative was the examination of views on slavery. Thomas Jefferson emerges as an enigmatic figure, full of contradictions: outspoken against the evils of slavery, while owning slaves. I found it interesting that the documentary discussed the scandal involving Jefferson and Sally Hemings, but did not mention the DNA testing done several years ago on Hemings’ descendants that indicates they are most likely also descendants of Jefferson himself.
Benjamin Franklin is conspicuous by his near-absence from the program, which chooses to focus on the first few decades after the Revolutionary War. While he was instrumental in the Revolution, Franklin died in 1790, which this documentary would have us believe did not enable him to make much of a mark on the construction of this new government. However, I did learn much about Alexander Hamilton, who is often glossed over in our American History books in school because he wasn’t president. His impact on America was much greater than I had previously realized. Madison is discussed with regard to his support of Jefferson, but no mention of his presidency itself occurs. Perhaps time constraints prevented such details from inclusion, and I admit that I have not read Ellis’s book, which may have mentioned Franklin and Madison in more detail.
With regard to voice characterization, I must single out Rob Lowe as James Madison. He affected a Southern drawl that sounded completely genuine, and imbued Madison with a humble demeanor that I found enchanting. I also enjoyed Michael York’s rendering of Alexander Hamilton. Clearly, that Shakespearean training has been useful for much more than Austin Powers movies!
The most poignant segment in the series was the discussion of the letters exchanged between John Adams and Thomas Jefferson for the last fourteen years of their lives. They had a remarkable friendship, interrupted for a time by political rivalry. As the the voices of James Woods (Adams) and Peter Coyote (Jefferson) related the exchange that followed upon the death of Adams’ wife of 54 years, Abigail, I was moved to tears. Most history buffs may know that Adams and Jefferson died on the same day — July 4, 1826 — on the 50th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence. Many of you may also remember that Adams’ last words were “Jefferson survives.” While this was not true, Adams could not have known, as Jefferson had died only hours before, asking “Is it the fourth?” The narrator of the series remarked that Adams was “wrong for the moment, but right for the ages.”
Related posts:
The Scarlet Letter, or Jesus Loves You
Another short week as we wrap up the Jewish holidays (for now). We had a short week with Rosh Hashanah, a regular week with a half-day on Friday before Yom Kippur, a short week last week for Sukkot, and a short week this week for Shemini Atzeret and Simchat Torah. I have been able to get a lot of long-term planning done. I mean, I am on the ball. I know what I’m doing for basically a couple months down the road.
Because of the holidays, the students had long prayers (tefillah), which meant we missed classes. Today, I only taught one class (although it was a double block). It was a great class. We started off reading Jonathan Edwards’ fiery sermon “Sinners in the Hands of an Angry God,” which made those kids glad they’re not Puritan. I had the excellent opportunity to explain some Christian theology — not proselytize, mind. I don’t do that. It was to explain where these Puritans are coming from and what they believe. The students were very interested and asked great questions. We then discussed the first portion of The Scarlet Letter, by Nathaniel Hawthorne. I think once we started discussing it, they warmed to the book. Hester is really a pretty interesting old gal. Discussion of Puritan (and Christian) theology in general continued. We discussed a bit the ways in which religion is still a part of our laws, and it seemed like the discussion really took off. One student brought up Blue Laws, I mentioned the Ten Commandments and sodomy laws, and before you knew it, we were talking about how religion has impacted education and separation of church and state. I gave my opinion, as I’ve stated here recently, about the perfect appropriateness of requiring religious education when one goes to a religious institution, but the complete imappropriateness otherwise, and of course, there were no dissenters in that classroom. They have actually, most of them, been in a position of feeling uncomfortable about being the only Jew in a room full of Christians — of feeling like “the other.” One student shared a particularly appalling story with me.
She said she went to public school in the 5th grade. Her teacher sat her up front, near her desk. On the corner of her desk, she kept a copy of the New Testament and frequently offered to loan it to my student, should she be interested. She also frequently attempted to get her to borrow the Left Behind series books. Bleh. So my poor student felt very uncomfortable, but also afraid to say any thing lest the teacher hold it against her. In short, she was afraid it would affect her grade. Finally, it became unbearable, and my student went to the principal, who, from what I was told, handled the situation properly. But my, oh my. Can you believe it? Put yourself in someone else’s shoes, those of you who have ever been guilty of trying to force your relgious beliefs (or even lack thereof) on someone. What right have any of us to try to undermine what a parent is teaching his/her child about religion? Don’t we keep saying over and over that something like that is best left to the parents? Actually, it reminded me of a story I read recently in the Atlanta Jewish Times.
So this is why I wrote what I wrote about Marilou Braswell. I’ve had some negative feedback about it. No one who will leave a real name and valid e-mail. I got tired of it and closed comments on that entry. I figure that if someone really wants to tell me off, then they’ll just have to e-mail me. So far all anyone’s really done is basically tell me I’m wrong, that I don’t know the facts (I guess the news and UGA also got the facts wrong, if that’s the case), and insult people involved (Jaclyn Steele and someone named Demon Damon that I don’t even remember — and that was from an actual e-mail). Oh, and they shared with me that I can learn the truth of the matter at helpmarilou.com. I don’t want to be accused of not giving equal time, so check it out if you must, but please God, don’t tell them I sent you. The last thing I need is more anti-Semitic evangelicals telling me I’m wrong, Jaclyn’s going to hell, and I’m disseminating lies for the uneducated masses who, you know, all rely on me for their information, and all that crap.
Actually, I had a great day. I really did.
Related posts:
Standing By Words
I don’t allow anonymous comments on this site, but anonymous cowards usually find a way to comment here anyway. Thing is, I don’t have a measure in place that keeps people from posting a fake e-mail address. I require that they leave an e-mail address, but I have no way of forcing someone to provide a real one. Every single time I’ve had a comment wherein someone disagrees with me, they have failed to provide a real, valid e-mail address. I have to wonder why. I’m not really that scary. Why do they fear to back up what they say? They seem to be more interested in playing some silly, schoolyard game of slap and run. That’s just ridiculous. If you have something to say, have the courage to say it and stand by it. I can’t take you seriously if you are too afraid to engage in intellectual debate. I always post my real e-mail address when I make a comment, and to date, the boogie-man has never bitten me. If you believe in something strongly enough to say it, to post it on someone’s site, own up to it and invite discussion. Not to do that is simply cowardice. Frankly, if you hide behind fake names and e-mails, it makes it look like you’re not really sure of yourself, that you feel your position is weak. Stand by your words.
Related posts:
This Old House
In the Atlanta area, we are fortunate enough to have two versions of PBS: GPTV, which broadcasts all over Georgia, and PBA, which is exclusive to Atlanta. We disovered it by accident one day after Arthur was over. Sarah and I love to watch Arthur together. Sarah was flipping channels, and boom — Arthur is on again! The logo in the bottom of the screen indicated it was a PBS channel. We watched the second Arthur.
It was in this way that we accidentally discovered Manor House was on last night. I have been wanting to see it for some time. I am a big fan of the historical “House” series since catching Frontier House. This summer I enjoyed Colonial House, but not nearly as much as Frontier House.
The interesting thing about Manor House is that it seeks to accurately portray life in a time not so far removed from ours — 1906. However, this was a time still dominated by class. We look at 21st century mentalities at war with the reality that as participants in this series, they must quickly learn their proper places. It is absolutely fascinating. And, like the other “House” series, it completely underscores the absolute wimpiness of modern people. We rely so much on labor-saving devices, for instance. Cooking and cleaning take all day, even only 100 years ago. Even only 60 years ago, as evidenced in 1940s House, which I caught part of last night as well. And the idea that everyone stays in his or her proper place is so alien to us today. It is really interesting to watch the interplay between the participants.
Diana Gabaldon, whom I’ve had the pleasure to meet, said once that when she decided to write a time-travel novel, she knew her heroine could not come from the 1990s (the time when she began writing her Outlander series), because the people of that time were too soft. She’d never be able to make it in eighteenth century Scotland. Her heroine would come from WWII Britain. Watching these series has shown me how right she was. If I have learned nothing else from these series, I have learned a respect for the toil that for our ancestors was just life. In addition to that, each series has been a most fascinating history lesson.
If you haven’t yet caught these shows, check out the links I provided and find out when your PBS station is airing them. They are the finest examples of “reality TV” out there, in my opinion.
Oh, Anne…
So I’m late in discovering that Anne Rice went postal on her reviewers at Amazon for Blood Canticle. Since you have to scroll down to find her review, I’ll save you some time. Here it is, in its entirety, following a five-star rating for her own book:
Seldom do I really answer those who criticize my work. In fact, the entire development of my career has been fueled by my ability to ignore denigrating and trivializing criticism as I realize my dreams and my goals. However there is something compelling about Amazon’s willingness to publish just about anything, and the sheer outrageous stupidity of many things you’ve said here that actually touches my proletarian and Democratic soul. Also I use and enjoy Amazon and I do read the reviews of other people’s books in many fields. In sum, I believe in what happens here. And so, I speak. First off, let me say that this is addressed only to some of you, who have posted outrageously negative comments here, and not to all. You are interrogating this text from the wrong perspective. Indeed, you aren’t even reading it. You are projecting your own limitations on it. And you are giving a whole new meaning to the words “wide readership.” And you have strained my Dickensean principles to the max. I’m justifiably proud of being read by intellectual giants and waitresses in trailer parks,in fact, I love it, but who in the world are you? Now to the book. Allow me to point out: nowhere in this text are you told that this is the last of the chronicles, nowhere are you promised curtain calls or a finale, nowhere are you told there will be a wrap-up of all the earlier material. The text tells you exactly what to expect. And it warns you specifically that if you did not enjoy Memnoch the Devil, you may not enjoy this book. This book is by and about a hero whom many of you have already rejected. And he tells you that you are likely to reject him again. And this book is most certainly written — every word of it — by me. If and when I can’t write a book on my own, you’ll know about it. And no, I have no intention of allowing any editor ever to distort, cut, or otherwise mutilate sentences that I have edited and re-edited, and organized and polished myself. I fought a great battle to achieve a status where I did not have to put up with editors making demands on me, and I will never relinquish that status. For me, novel writing is a virtuoso performance. It is not a collaborative art. Back to the novel itself: the character who tells the tale is my Lestat. I was with him more closely than I have ever been in this novel; his voice was as powerful for me as I’ve ever heard it. I experienced break through after break through as I walked with him, moved with him, saw through his eyes. What I ask of Lestat, Lestat unfailingly gives. For me, three hunting scenes, two which take place in hotels — the lone woman waiting for the hit man, the slaughter at the pimp’s party — and the late night foray into the slums –stand with any similar scenes in all of the chronicles. They can be read aloud without a single hitch. Every word is in perfect place. The short chapter in which Lestat describes his love for Rowan Mayfair was for me a totally realized poem. There are other such scenes in this book. You don’t get all this? Fine. But I experienced an intimacy with the character in those scenes that shattered all prior restraints, and when one is writing one does have to continuously and courageously fight a destructive tendency to inhibition and restraint. Getting really close to the subject matter is the achievement of only great art. Now, if it doesn’t appeal to you, fine. You don’t enjoy it? Read somebody else. But your stupid arrogant assumptions about me and what I am doing are slander. And you have used this site as if it were a public urinal to publish falsehood and lies. I’ll never challenge your democratic freedom to do so, and yes, I’m answering you, but for what it’s worth, be assured of the utter contempt I feel for you, especially those of you who post anonymously (and perhaps repeatedly?) and how glad I am that this book is the last one in a series that has invited your hateful and ugly responses. Now, to return to the narrative in question: Lestat’s wanting to be a saint is a vision larded through and through with his characteristic vanity. It connects perfectly with his earlier ambitions to be an actor in Paris, a rock star in the modern age. If you can’t see that, you aren’t reading my work. In his conversation with the Pope he makes observations on the times which are in continuity with his observations on the late twentieth century in The Vampire Lestat, and in continuity with Marius’ observations in that book and later in Queen of the Damned. The state of the world has always been an important theme in the chronicles. Lestat’s comments matter. Every word he speaks is part of the achievement of this book. That Lestat renounced this saintly ambition within a matter of pages is plain enough for you to see. That he reverts to his old self is obvious, and that he intends to complete the tale of Blackwood Farm is also quite clear. There are many other themes and patterns in this work that I might mention — the interplay between St.Juan Diago and Lestat, the invisible creature who doesn’t “exist” in the eyes of the world is a case in point. There is also the theme of the snare of Blackwood Farm, the place where a human existence becomes so beguiling that Lestat relinquishes his power as if to a spell. The entire relationship between Lestat and Uncle Julien is carefully worked out. But I leave it to readers to discover how this complex and intricate novel establishes itself within a unique, if not unrivalled series of book. There are things to be said. And there is pleasure to be had. And readers will say wonderful things about Blood Canticle and they already are. There are readers out there and plenty of them who cherish the individuality of each of the chronicles which you so flippantly condemn. They can and do talk circles around you. And I am warmed by their response. Their letters, the papers they write in school, our face to face exchanges on the road — these things sustain me when I read the utter trash that you post. But I feel I have said enough. If this reaches one reader who is curious about my work and shocked by the ugly reviews here, I’ve served my goals. And Yo, you dude, the slang police! Lestat talks like I do. He always has and he always will. You really wouldn’t much like being around either one of us. And you don’t have to be. If any of you want to say anything about all this by all means Email me at Anneobrienrice@mac.com. And if you want your money back for the book, send it to 1239 First Street, New Orleans, La, 70130. I’m not a coward about my real name or where I live. And yes, the Chronicles are no more! Thank God!
What I have to say about all that was perfectly encapsulated by Sean Murphy, a member of Comicon.com Panels:
And no, I have no intention of allowing any editor ever to distort, cut, or otherwise mutilate sentences that I have edited and re-edited, and organized and polished myself. I fought a great battle to achieve a status where I did not have to put up with editors making demands on me, and I will never relinquish that status. For me, novel writing is a virtuoso performance. It is not a collaborative art.
I think this is both the most telling and most unfortunate part of her little diatribe. If there was ever a writer who needs the attention of an editor, she’s it. Almost every writer I’ve really liked has admitted to being helped by a good editor. I think it’s hurt the work of Rice and other authors who’ve gotten mega-big, such as Stephen King, that the publishers know that anything they write will sell, so there’s no need to have an editor spend time with their manuscripts. And the fatter the page count, the more they can charge for the book anyway, regardless of whether or not the book would be better with some judicious trimming. I think that’s why Rice, King, and writers of similar status all seem to be much better at the beginning of their careers: they still have people working with them at that stage.
Obviously, Ann Rice has an incredibly swelled head and is of the belief that no improvement on her work is possible. If she got over that, she might be worth reading again.
I very much enjoyed Interview with the Vampire and The Vampire Lestat. After that, my appreciation of her writing has been spotty at best. Frankly, Sean Murphy nailed it. “If there was ever a writer who needs the attention of an editor, she’s it.” As a writer, I resent the idea she presents that editing is in some way a distortion of one’s work. That’s patently ridiculous. Her work is suffering badly in want of an editor. She often gets lost in her political agenda. Her descriptions, while lavish and breathtaking in her early works, have degenerated into this wordy, mucked-up mire that seems endless. Her characters have unnatural dialogue. And I’m sorry, when Lestat drank blood from Christ in Memnoch the Devil, I pitched the sorry book across the room. Besides the fact that it offended my religious sensibilities, it was just so damned… cheesy. I wish I could think of a better word. Maybe I need an editor.
There is nothing wrong with a good editor. A good editor can help a writer polish, perfect, and present a work. What a writer needs to do, and fairly early on in his/her career, is adopt a tough skin. You’d think Anne Rice would have a hide of leather by now, based on her recent reviews. One must be able to accept constructive criticism. That’s what editing is all about. It is not a distortion of one’s art. If she’s done much polishing of what she’s written, I’ll be a painted baboon, and you can quote me on that. To be fair, she might have a different dictionary, and her definition of polishing might be much different from mine (/sarcasm). I think she should have let well enough alone and resisted the urge to “fight back” against criticism. What does she really care? She has legions of rabid fans who will buy whatever crap she issues. She’s rich. She’s famous.
I think Neil Gaiman said it well in his own blog:
I think that unless a reviewer gets their facts completely wrong, the author should shut up (and even then, the author should probably let it go)…
I suspect that most authors don’t really want criticism, not even constructive criticism. They want straight-out, unabashed, unashamed, fulsome, informed, naked praise, arriving by the shipload every fifteen minutes or so. Unfortunately an Amazon.com reviews page for one of the author’s books is the wrong place to go looking for this. Probably best just not to look…
When you publish a book — when you make art — people are free to say what they want about it. You can’t tell people they liked a book they didn’t like, and there is, in the end, no arguing with personal taste. Different people like different things. Best to move on and make good art as best you can, instead of arguing.
I think Anne Rice going on Amazon and lambasting her critics was undoubtedly a very brave and satisfying thing for her to do, was every bit as sensible as kicking a tar baby, and, if ever I do something like that, please shoot me.
Indeed.
Should you care to read Anne’s personal response to the controversy, you can do so here. Despite what she says, you can still find her review of Blood Canticle, all five stars of it, at Amazon. You just have to hunt for a while. That is exactly where I found the quoted passage above.
The Toronto Star also covered the story.
And finally, Anne, if you ever happen across this little section of the WWW — it’s not “break through,” it’s “breakthrough.” One word. You meant to use it as a noun, and it’s only two words when used as a verb, meaning “to make a breakthrough.” About that editor…
Update, 10/13/04, 7:41 P.M.: Read more about the controversy in this New York Times article (registration required).
Ooo… Baby, Baby
Great news! My baby sister is expecting a baby! She’s due June 4. I know that she and Riceman are thrilled (as are their parents, who had long given up on the hope that these two would have children). I applaud them for waiting until they were ready. As the mother of three accidents, I can tell you much can be said for preparedness.
I have been an “aunt by marriage,” but this will be my first niece or nephew of my own. I lost my nieces and nephew from my previous marriage in the divorce (seems like it always happens that the former spouse gets custody of his/her family — which is hardly ever a bad thing). Steve has two nephews, but I really don’t feel like their aunt at all. I mean, one of them probably doesn’t even know I exist, as he’s cut himself off from his father’s family (Steve’s brother’s son), and the other, well, I doubt he sees me as an aunt, though I have a warm relationship with his mother (Steve’s sister). I echo the sentiments of the rest of the family when I say I didn’t think I’d ever be an “aunt.”
Congratulations to you both! You two will be wonderful parents.
Related posts:
Reading Salinger
I want to share a perfect moment I experienced reading J.D. Salinger…
The novel is The Catcher in the Rye. One student tells me, “I read ahead, is that okay? This book is just getting better and better.”
We discuss Holden’s alienation. “What’s with the ducks? Oh, and the cabbie that goes on about the fish, Mrs. Huff, is that foreshadowing? Like is Holden going to be stuck like the fish in the frozen pond or fly to freedom like the ducks?” Maybe. We have to read more to see.
Let’s read.
Let’s keep reading.
We did. One minute past dismissal, and we were still reading. I looked up at the clock — “Oh, we went over. We have to go.” No one else had even glanced at the clock, eyes riveted to the page. Six faces looked disappointed as they disentangled themselves from a book and trudged to their next class.
I smiled, folding the memory away for later. Now, as I open it, my eyes are moist with tears of joy.
This is why I became an English teacher.
Girl with a Pearl Earring
I have just finished Tracy Chevalier’s book Girl with a Pearl Earring, inspired by the mysterious muse of Johannes Vermeer’s painting of the same name (click thumbnail for a larger image):
Before I read Girl in Hyacinth Blue and Girl with a Pearl Earring, I knew nothing about the Dutch painter Vermeer. I can’t claim I know any more of him now, except that I like his painting technique. Enjoyment of these books has led me to seek out images of his paintings on the Internet. I will direct you to this site, as I think it has very good scans. The colors are vibrant. The scans at Web Museum are so dark — it’s hard to see some of the detail. Of all of the paintings I saw, however, this one, Girl with a Pearl Earring, is my favorite. I like the way the light hits the girl’s face — the way her eyes shine, the moist sheen on her lips, the way the pearl glistens. It’s been compared to Mona Lisa.
Actually, in my search, I discovered that after Girl with a Pearl Earring, this painting is probably the one I like the best (click thumbnail for a larger image):
I don’t know why. It just speaks to me. The simplicity of the scene, celebrated. The colors. The details. I looked at the painting at Web Museum, where the article pointed out that the painting has the smallest details that most people wouldn’t even notice: the shadow of the naked nail in the wall above the maid’s head.
The book? Well, I think technically it was better than The Virgin Blue, which I reviewed here, but it didn’t speak to me in the same way that The Virgin Blue did. Don’t get me wrong — I loved the book. I think it is part of a fascinating genre of literature that seems to be really hitting its stride right now — art-inspired literature, something I previously wrote about here. I think the only thing that really troubled me about the book is the same thing that art historians have complained about — the negative portrayal of Vermeer and his wife Catharina. Susan Vreeland portrayed them, especially Catharina, very differently in Girl in Hyacinth Blue. For one thing, Vreeland emphasized their poverty. When Vermeer died, the family was deeply in debt. One story that seems veriafiably accurate is that his family’s debt with their baker was settled because the baker was willing to take Vermeer’s artwork in trade. I wondered how they could afford a maid, let alone two maids, as they had in the book. However, Chevalier pointed out that a maid, Tanneke, was mentioned in Vermeer’s will. I have to be fair and say that Chevalier never described the Vermeers as wealthy, and she emphasized that they fell into debt after the departure of Griet, the novel’s protagonist. I guess I just feel, in my modern mindset, that a maid is a luxury only wealthy people can afford. I don’t know a thing about it, so I can’t say exactly when Vermeer became poor, or whether he was always poor. He was portrayed as someone who used people for what they could bring to his artwork. There is this sense that he and Catharina do not get along, when they had 15 children together (11 of whom survived). You have to like each other a bit more than the novel portrays to have so many children, I’d think.
All that said, it was a great story. It’s sort of a story you almost want to believe. I have to say I felt the same way about Girl in Hyacinth Blue, and the painting described in that novel was completely fictional. I liked Griet a great deal. I had sympathy for her as a peasant woman living in a time when her lot in life was to serve, first the Vermeers as her masters, then her husband. I haven’t seen the movie, but the pictures I have seen make me want to — it seems the world of 17th century Delft is captured beautifully, and Scarlett Johansson is the very image of the mysterious girl in the painting. In an interesting aside, Chevalier chose the name Griet sort of on a whim. It was on a list of 17th century Dutch names she was pondering. I recognized right away that the name must be short for Margriet, or Margaret, a name that seems to have its counterpart in almost every Western language. You’d think as the mother of a Margaret, I’d have remembered that the name means “pearl.” Chevalier was happy to discover that little tidbit after the fact. One of those really fascinating moments of serendipity of a sort.
In many ways, the novel was a subtle as a Vermeer painting. I could perfectly see the settings. They were not described in so much detail that they overshadowed the story, but the imagery was still very strong. The characters thought and felt much that went unsaid. There were layers to every action — motivations both explicit and implicit. In the end, you wonder — what did Vermeer really feel for the girl? The sexual tension was rendered in such an artistic fashion. I was so glad that Chevalier didn’t ruin that by having the characters consummate their implied attraction. Chevalier said that this is a quiet book. That’s a great way to describe it. Quiet.
I will say that I didn’t enjoy this book as much as Girl in Hyacinth Blue, but it is an excellent read, and I highly recommend it. If you find yourself wanting to learn about the painting, then I direct you to Girl with a Pearl Earring: An In-Depth Study. It’s extremely informative and very thorough.