I read the hundred or so pages Of Mice and Men some time ago, and now the small but perfectly formed Pearl, which doesn’t quite make the hundred mark. Maybe a few more skirmishes are called for before the final assualt on The Grapes of Wrath…

In the preface it is indicated that the story is a fable, and this is reflected in the sentence structure and prose style which is reminscent of the spoken form. This simple story is that of a pearl fisherman and his small, young family, who finds The Pearl of The World, but is thwarted in his attempt to convert this treasure into financial security, by the greed, envy and jealous malice of others.

The novel is set in the Gulf of Mexico:

“Although the morning was young, the hazy mirage was up. The uncertain air that magnified some things and blotted out others hung over the whole Gulf so that all sights were unreal and vision could not be trusted; so that sea and land had the sharp clarities and the vagueness of a dream. Thus it might be that that people of the Gulf trust things of the spirit and things of the imagination, but they do not trust their eyes to show them distance or clear outline or any optical exactness.”

The concept of the pearl provides plenty of material for reflection in and of itself. The jewel formed from irritant grit, hacked fatally out of living flesh… which latter is discarded despite having an intrinsic nutrient value. But of what value the pearl, in real terms?

There is a conceit in the story whereby Kino, the protagonist, hears songs in his head which reflect his thoughts. Most of his thought processes are illustrated through the Song of the Family and the Song of the Enemy. The two musics are in opposition and it is their cumulative counterpoint which defines Kino’s actions.

I have noticed, and I suspect that this is not a new thing that, in televised sci-fi drama, internally heard music is often used to represent something beyond the characters’ comprehension. (Usually alien related.) It was interesting to see the device used here, where it worked much better. Kino doesn’t have the vocabulary or the understanding to verbalise his reasoning, but acts from instinct. A part of the story is to illustrate how those instincts are corrupted and rendered useless by artificial constructs imposed on the natural order.

At times the characters are able to verbalise more complex ideas, which reflects the parable nature of the story. Although the story works at the level of tragic misadventure, the characters also serve as siphers to carry the ideas of the story. In the preface the author invites the reader to attach their own significance to the fable. At the simplest level, the theme is one of the corrupting nature of wealth.

But the author’s appreciation of nature is apparent:

“The beach was yellow sand, but at the water’s edge a rubble of shell and algae took its place. Fiddler crabs bubbled and sputtered in their holes in the sand, and in the shallows little lobsters popped in and out of their tiny homes in the rubble and sand. The sea bottom was rich with crawling and swimming and growing things. The brown algae waved in the gentle currents and the green eel grass swayed and little sea horses clung to its stems.”

and I preferred to take from the story a reflection on the deleterious effects of wantonly destroying environment and culture for financial gain.

Me pictured with James Crowden and book

By some fluke I’d managed to get the front cover shot of the book and I must admit I felt rather proud as the book was passed around and James introduced me to other contributors, local poets and writers. The book looks fantastic, the cover has a impressive matt finish and is an entertaining and surprising read. I had no idea both John Steinbeck and Tolken lived and worked in Somerset.

On the way back to Bristol to photograph another depressingly clueless performance by Bristol City (v Reading) I came across tree and patch of land completely covered in Ice in an otherwise green Landscape. I was a very bizarre site and another example of why traveling through Somerset is rewarding experience for any photographer.

ice tree Somerset

On the subject of bizarre I called into Glastonbury the week before to take a look at Bill Bradshaw’s ‘iamCider’ photography exhibition. Unfortunately I missed it by and couple of weeks (yikes). Glastonbury was full of Druids (even more than usual) as there was a pagan event taking place. I couldn’t quite work out exactly what was happening but it apparently involved a Harry Potter carriadge and for some strange reason dragging a dead horse through the high street. Again I managed to miss most of the proceedings, just a few men in yellow high vis jackets were left mopping up the blood from the tarmac.

Medieval Barn, Glastonbury Rural Museum, illuminated by the Winter Sunlight.

A walk up to the Tor proved a very rewarding experience as the sun was setting over the misty levels of Somerset. A few of the druids had also made the Pilgrimage. They stared wistfully at the view, played their penny whistles an took photographs of each other. I felt very at peace with myself.

A druids photo Opportunity.

Well, it’s official: it’s tomorrow. That means the first installment of my typos in books posts begin today! Yay hooray! I will call them Published Blunders.

The author: John Steinbeck
The book: East of Eden
The publisher: Penguin Books
All of that information in one place true to MLA form: Steinbeck, John.East of Eden. New York: Penguin Books, 2002.

The blunder: One of the characters is named Liza. On page 141 of this Steinbeck Centennial Edition, she is referred to as Lisa…twice…while the correct spelling appears three times on the same page. Oh, Penguin. Here are the sentences:

“No, sir, Mr. Trask, Lisa’s used to cooking for nine starving children.”

And…

“It’s a word of anger and sorrow to Lisa.”

East of Eden is one of my new favorites and I highly recommend it to anyone, not just classic literature buffs. For book details and reviews click here. But if you’re going to buy it, I would shamelessly recommend doing so from this store.

I remember when I was young I saw a notebook filled with my mother’s writings….. I was much too young to know what it was …… but something tells me it was filled with quotes….. what kind I do not know….  wish I knew what happened to that notebook…..

You have to love quotes….. there are loads of vague ones in my head from the telly, books, movies ….. but there is one by John Steinbeck which goes “What a frightening thing is the human, a mass of gauges and dials and registers, and we can only read a few and those perhaps not accurately” …. I confess I cannot read people….  It took me good number of years to realise that…..

People either love Coldplay or hate them….. and then there are the other kind….. people like me who can’t quite place them…

Trouble by Coldplay

” I never meant to cause you trouble,
And I never meant to do you wrong,
And I, well if I ever caused you trouble,
O no, I never meant to do you harm”

Impressions…. Interpretations…… Cycles…. Phases…….  Complexities…… Complications…..

“O no, I see,
I spun a web, it’s tangled up with me,
And I lost my head,
The thought of all the stupid things I said”

You don’t have to be a rocket scientist to get this song… and thats what I like about it….. Its simplicity & honesty…..

A bubble bath and some retrospection…….. and this song in the background…..

“They spun a web for me……”

]]> http://zabethmarsh.wordpress.com/2009/12/21/whats-does-your-reading-say-about-you/ Mon, 21 Dec 2009 09:22:31 +0000 zabethmarsh http://zabethmarsh.wordpress.com/2009/12/21/whats-does-your-reading-say-about-you/

I’ve been using Goodreads.com for 2 years now to keep track of what I read and what I want to read. (Honestly, it is the To Be Read list that needs the project management.) As we are wrapping up 2009 I’m looking back over the last 7 years when I first started tracking what I read and wanted to read in Excel spreadsheet.

First, how much do you have going on if you have to keep a list?  I’ve realized that I have 3 books going at all times.  One is book I’m reading for the pure pleasure of it. It is like candy for the brain. I read pleasure books to forget my day job. These are essential to my life if I want to relax. Second book is a research book for something I want to write. It is about a country or a time period or about writing itself. And I find these books inspiring to my writing.  I crave these books like an addict needs another hit. And the third is something educational. I never did finish all the books I was supposed to have read in college as an English major. It was guilt over this that started making me push myself in life to read those books called classics that everyone wishes they had read but can’t seem to actually read. Well, I’m actually reading them (although slowly). And discovering that I really appreciate them as an adult; something I never would have had time to do as a college student in between beer, boys, and a few good books I did read. I savor these books now like an expensive wine. I’m glad I waited to read them until I could appreciate them. It makes me sad that education for so many ends during the first half of our lives when I think we would understand so much more in second or their parts of our life.

Second, as I look back at the books that I’ve read I’ve noticed the good years from the bad years. Like looking at rings in tree log I can tell when there’s been a time of drought in my life. The books dwindle to one or two a month. But when things are happy and bountiful I’ve read up to 14 per month. The good years always include discovering an author who I consider I “must own”. For example in 2007, I first started to read Brenda Joyce and within the year I consumed her entire catalog of books.  Ind 2006 I went through a big Jo Beverley phase and loved every book. But this past year, as I struggle thinking about changing my day job, my reading all but stopped to a drip.

Third, I’ve recognized how my tastes change. What I thought was a “must own” and “keeper” in 2000 by 2009 I sold so I could make room on my bookshelves for new releases. I’m not sure if I should feel horrible about that or not. It is a necessity to make room if I want to purchase new books. And therefore this might be the most compelling reason to buy a ereader. However, I think like our taste buds, our reading tastes probably do change over the years as we mature. And therefore, cycling in new books is just part of the cycle of life. But I do worry about where all my old books have ended up. If you purchased one of my old books please be kind to it. (I’ve sold most of them to Half Priced Books.)

This year I joined several bookclubs which enabled me to discuss the books I was reading immediately with someone else who just finished the book. I thought this was a great way to continue to enjoy the book for a few more moments after a finished reading it.

Here are a few bookclub books I read this year:

Today’s quote comes from John Steinbeck

In utter loneliness a writer tries to explain the inexplicable.

(I get these quotes from www.brainyquote.com by the way)

I would like to commence this post by saying you all SUCK.  Like could you guys seriously leave me a comment from time to time?  I mean, I know Sanne reads this stuff, but I get at least 20 other hits a day, and I’d like to think they aren’t all bots/accidents.  So say hi!  Tell me who you are!

I have eaten SO much crap this weekend.  We have soda in the house which is incredibly rare.  It’s because my dad had his men’s group over, and men demand junk.  This is my second Sierra Mist this weekend.  I haven’t had soda since… France?  I never drink it.  And now that it’s there and it’s sweet, I have it.  Bad Marion.

But that’s not even the worst of it.  We have a bunch of candy and cookies in the pantry.  Stuff I like.  Craaaaap.  Like Reese’s Bells, Hershey’s Candy Cane Kisses, and these white oreo-like cookies.  Let’s just say I’m not holding back.  And I can already feel it in my jeans.  Greaaaaat.

Finals haven’t really hit me yet.  Even though they’re… um Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday of this week.  Yesterday I read about 100 pages in East of Eden, hauntingly fascinating book by the way.  Steinbeck is a confirmed favorite of mine.  I don’t care if I’ve only read Grapes of Wrath.  I love his writing.  I just spent an hour photocopying tables and diagrams from my Psychology book.  And I think I’m going to try to outline my English essay a bit tonight.  See, but I have to shower, and I’m watching this cool show on the History channel with actors and major movements in American history.  It’s cool.  Eddie Vedder is playing a Dylan song.  I’m gonna tag this post later.  I feel freakishly lazy.  Cookie time?

The following Cliff’s Notes books are on sale at Books From A Rose:

All my good ideas seem to come from other bloggers.  Today, I wandered over to my friend LP’s blog and, lo and behold, I found her participating in the Best of 2009 Blog Challenge which intrigues me.  The good part of this, for me, is that it is not a command to participate every day which my track record shows quite clearly that I’m not capable.  It also helps to do a little retrospective at the end of the year with which to reminisce and recommend.  To that end, today’s Best of 2009 is Best Book.

The Best Book of 2009 is…The Winter of Our Discontent by John Steinbeck. You really can’t go wrong with a classic, and it seems that my choices were limited because according to my count, I only read *GASP* FIVE BOOKS this year.  Man, having a baby really does take some free time away from you.  Anyway, about the book:  I love Steinbeck.  I think I’ve only ever read one novel by Steinbeck that I wasn’t a big fan of, but almost always I find myself engrossed by his glorious prose and his ability to create characters that I both identify with and sympathize with.  The Winter of Our Discontent is about a man who is down on his luck and has taken a job that he feels is beneath him but it is helping his family to survive.  We watch as he confronts various demons that attempt to sway him from his moral convictions and how that affects his family, particularly his children.

I also enjoyed Einstein’s Dreams by Alan Lightman this year.  It was an interesting look at various realities that Einstein might have dreamed in his years as a patent office clerk in Switzerland.  They were short and varied which made for easy bedtime reading.

So…look for more Best of 2009 from the Conspiracy of Happiness.  This promises to be an interesting look back at the year.  Also, feel free to post your own “Best of…” in the comments section, which seems to be woefully underused these days.

See you in the funny papers!

My university chum (and future teacher) Miss Randell has been thinking about what she would make high-schoolers read if the curriculum were up to her, and has decided that she would limit the Shakespeare:

Why should students be forced to read Shakespeare every year of high school? I mean, it has to be translated for them (“OK y’all, so this is why Sampson biting his thumb was so badass…“) and as anyone who’s ever paraphrased Willy S will know, changing the language pretty much ruins the play.

You know what ruins anything? Being forced to listen to the entire class taking turns reading every line out loud. This is the required reading from high-school that stuck with me:

Grade 6: Hatchet – Awesome. Only downside? That it made us all secretly wish we were lucky enough to be in plane crash in which the pilot is tragically killed. Also, I drew a sweet hatchet on my book report cover.

Grade 7: Nada – I was busy hating everyone and wishing I had cooler jeans.

Grade 8: I think we just read short stories arranged around themes like “family” and “courage.” Then we’d talk about these themes in “literature circles,” my worst memory of high-school English. We pushed our desks into clumps and asked pre-set questions like, “Do you think a family has to have two parents to be a real family?”

Grade 9: Of Mice and Men – I always got George and Lennie mixed up, because Lennie is a smart, skinny name and George is a big, dumb name. The Pearl – I just kept hoping, over and over again, that maybe everything would turn out ok in the end. I’m not sure if we were really supposed to read two Steinbecks in a row, but I had a just-about-retired teacher that year and he probably thought, to hell with it, The Pearl is really short.  

Grade 10: The Chrysalids – Humans evolve, with extra digits and telepathy. I liked it. Flowers for Algernon – Miss Randell’s right to add some funnier picks to her reading list. It’s a good story, but, at risk of being spoilery, a real downer. Macbeth – Ditto.

A-levels: (I moved to a Brit school in Warsaw). Great Expectations – I wrote essays about Miss Havisham and thought I was a genius. Macbeth again – I dusted off my old “witch voice” routine to use during all class discussions. Genius. Lots of William Blake – My friend Vic and I used cell phones to compose music for The Lamb. Genius. 

More A-levels: (Moved to Worcester here in the UK). Wuthering Heights – I didn’t enjoy it, and having to read it five or six times didn’t help much. I just didn’t buy the whole dying of a broken heart thing. Antony and Cleopatra – We got to go to Stratford-upon-Avon. Before I moved, my Warsaw class was about to do A Clockwork Orange, Nineteen Eighty-Four, and Death of a Salesman. I remember because I kept the books.

If it were up to me, I would add some juicier Young Adult Fiction to junior high, to ease the transition between poems about family and tomes about Society. A little Lois Lowry, perhaps? Some Mixed Up Files or Selected Works of T.S. Spivet? And why not let them go to town on The Catcher in the Rye? Hell, they might even think it’s grand, or swell, and not goddamn phony at all.

Teachers out there (or other people who think those darn kids need some good literature!) – what’s on your dream syllabus? Think about it – some of these kids may never open a book again.

Every time I have the opportunity to take a trip – big, small, exotic, mundane, work-related, totally frivolous, near, far – I am grateful. I am grateful for the opportunity, the variety and the inherent surprises that come even when you think for sure they will not. And I am grateful for the chance to share my experiences with others. Whether or not they are grateful is something that apparently very few travelers actually consider, but I would like to consider it.

Since I have been living in Asia and traveling in Asia I have found, in sharing my experiences, I rely heavily on words like myriad and juxtaposition. But these words do so little to actually communicate what I mean. Or at least they seem ineffective in comparison to what I see around me. How can I really demonstrate what I mean when I say there are myriad subtleties in the art of multilingual (or non-lingual) communication in Asia, or that Asia is replete with the most incongruously wonderful juxtapositions I have ever seen? Just saying it seems limited.

And why would it matter? Because, of course, with traveling comes the requisite sharing of said experiences, either with other travelers, or maybe with those who would, but can’t and those who could, but don’t. Ihave a great audience in my classroom for sharing, though I was reluctant to share my trips with my students in the US at first, a result of scars from having to endure my own Freshman English teacher’s every vacation to Hawaii (Mark Reischling I know you loved it, but us? Not so much.) Eventually I did begin to share and whether or not it had the Reischling effect on the kids, it totally changed how I traveled. I began to look around the world in a wholly new way; trying to see everything through the eyes of my students gave my trips a completely new focus. I brought back Vegemite and didgeridoos and boomerangs from Australia and let my students try all of them when we studied the region in Geography. I shared my photo essay of the street people and permanent protesters from D.C. when we covered Civil Rights and Liberties in Government class. I brought in albums from Italy when we studied the Renaissance in World History and the photos for my graduate thesis on Area 51 when we covered the Cold War in US History. Photos of the Ancient Agora and the Theater of Dionysus were passed around when we covered mythology and Ancient Greece. From Russia to Alaska to the Baltic States to Mexico and Jamaica – I wondered: What would my students find interesting, or surprising or bizarre… what might shock them? How could I impart what it was like to be in all these places… How could I create the sense of place in a way that they could relate to and provide context for what they were studying?

I read somewhere recently that the abundance of travel writing was getting simply ridiculous. Something to the effect that people live under the misconception that everyone wants to read about their every trial and tribulation on the road and that somehow a well-inked passport makes one the next great… well, you know, travel writer.  And I had to admit, it is kind of true. There are more travel blogs out there everyday, and in some ways, this might kind of be one. I do not read many of the travel blogs that profess to be the “key” to any sort of wisdom, and I love the idea that something one reads on the internet could in any way be “off the beaten track…” [Sorry Lonely Planet, I still love you and I turn to you often, but yo, you are way mainstream.]

Still, I have a certain love for travel literature.

I think my love for the genre has more to do with my innate nosiness. And my geographic inclinations. I like to read about the experiences that people have and see if I can relate/imagine/comprehend/covet/sigh-with-relief over their experiences. And I love to contemplate the complete sense of a place. My favorite travel authors include Hunter S. Thompson, John Steinbeck, Wendy Dale, Elizabeth Gilbert, selected works of Bill Bryson and one particular book by Michael Crichton.

Didn’t think those were all “travel writers”? HST’s Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas and Fear and Loathing on the Campaign Trail, ‘72 are two of the most effective pieces of literature to capture to flavor of a region and a nation, respectively, ever written. Thompson was completely aware of the significance of creating a sense of place in his writing in order to offer a unique context that would contribute to the story in a way that dialog or description never could. John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley is brilliant in it’s ability to convey the vernacular geography of America and the attendant topophilia during the 1960s as he made his way around the country in his camper (named for Quixote’s horse, Rocinante) and his standard poodle, Charley. The themes in all three of these books are still completely relevant today – and totally worth reading if you have not.

Wendy Dale wrote a novel called Avoiding Prison and Other Noble Vacation Goals that I read while on a cruise in the Caribbean back in 2004, I think. Yes, I said cruise. And to that end I was with the least adventurous person I have ever known, bless his rigid cotton socks. That book saved me from myself on that trip and reminded me of my own adventures during a particular summer in Guadalajara. Most people are now familiar with Liz Gilbert, and those same people all seem to have very clear opinions on her work, specifically Eat, Pray, Love. I adored this book and found that, in many ways, Gilbert shared parts of the travel experience that others have overlooked, though I am sure that I fall into her target demographic so maybe that is why I liked it so much. I find Bill Bryson a bit much on times, I could not get through his book on Australia – while I was planning and traveling through Australia – but I love, love, loved The Lost Continent: Travels in Small Town America, detailing a 14,000 mile trip around the US in the late 1980s. Again, for the reasons that I have found particular travel literature so alluring, I like this book because it points out the little things that might go unnoticed, but make all of the difference. No one misses the Statue of Liberty or the Grand Canyon, but there is so much in between that really gives those experiences meaning…

So, when I write about share my travel experiences it is in a constant effort to impart the unseen, to share the texture and feel of the place through the less obvious experiences: it is the intention of communicating the sense of the place. ‘Sense of place’ has been defined a million ways. If you look to Wiki you get this as an introduction:

To some, it is a characteristic that some geographic places have and some do not, while to others it is a feeling or perception held by people (not by the place itself). It is often used in relation to those characteristics that make a place special or unique, as well as to those that foster a sense of authentic human attachment and belonging.

As a teacher of Geography I have told my students it is the attempt to share the total experience of being in a place with someone who has not been there: what does it look like, smell like, sound like, feel like, even taste like… As a student of Geography I have been fascinated not only by the inherent nature of the sense of places, but also in placelessness and the love of places – topophilia. [Check out Yi-Fu Tuan.]

I have just returned from a long weekend in Saigon. If put to the task of ably communicating the sense of place in Saigon, could I? I could tell you that the texture of Saigon is tangible in every sensory way. I could tell you that the auditory experience of Saigon is immeasurable on any sort of scale I could describe. I could tell you that the juxtaposition of people, places and things cannot be enumerated. Would that be enough? I could tell you that I am constantly struck by the reality that such a great percentage of the world falls into a category easily labeled as “poor,” but they seem to take it all in stride so much more readily than I coped with my four hour delay. Would any of that give you a real sense of Saigon? If I tried to express the “emotional connections between physical environment and human beings” (Tuan’s definition of topophilia) would it be my own or those I had observed? Could I share the way that I see people around the world do the most ingenious things with what is on offer from their surroundings or is that suddenly my own emotional agenda?

More to the point, would it matter? And further… who am I to take up this endeavor?

I suppose the answers to those questions are what will indicate my status as a “Travel Writer.”

FYI: Some other notable books I consider to be brilliantly fantastic travel literature include: The Motorcycle Diaries, The Rabbit Proof Fence, Shutterbabe, and Long Way Round [I mean, Ewan McGregor in leather...?]

Puxando de memória uma biografia do Napoleão, que eu li no 3º colegial, a situação que mais se gravou em minha memória foi dos momentos anteriores a sua queda, quando ele estava a parte de tudo e todos, num estado de coisas onde soluções e possibilidades não mais existiam. Ele estava sem chances e estava sozinho. Triste, não? A gente pode chamar de fim da linha, esgotamento, punição kármica aos abusos cometidos e de derrota. De todos, derrota é  o nome mais triste, pois implica em si a idéia de luta, de tentativa, de vontade.

Livro que muito trata disso, do lutar ao máximo e perder, é o Velho e o Mar do Hemingway, onde o Santiago até que se esforça e se reencontra como pescador, mas perde, mesmo que dignamente, para as forças da natureza. Perder, perder, perder é algo terrível. Pior ainda é quando não há espaço para sentir raiva e culpar alguém, isso deixa uma sensação de cansaço que beira as portas da melancolia, da verdadeira morte do espírito.

Imagem que traduz tudo isso que estou dizendo é uma do Fernando Pessoa, em que ele faz uma comparação com um fósforo frio, que se queima todo, mas não consegue mudar o ambiente e a dinâmica da vida e do Mundo, acaba riscado, apagado e jogado no chão, sobrevivente de si mesmo. Espírito e carne, fósforo e espírito, velho e pescador, vida e natureza, duelos, sem fim.

Para uma amiga, que não foi exatamente muito bacana numa situação pessoal, expliquei um dos princípios norteadores de toda a ação da minha vida: “não fazer nada errado e quando fizer, não deixar que alguém descubra, nem deixar que a consciência te devore.”

A consciência da culpa é muito fácil de ser ignorada. A consciência do esgotamento de opções, da inacessibilidade de um tempo passado e melhor, é terrível e constante. O saudosismo não é só português… No fim, todos, uma hora ou outra, vão descobrir algo que Steinbeck já bem disse em ratos e homens:

A guy needs somebody – to be near him. A guy goes nuts if he ain’t got nobody. Don’t make no difference who the guy is, long’s he’s with you. I tell ya, I tell ya a guy gets too lonely an’ he gets sick.”

Pois não importa a derrota, quando você tem alguém verdadeiramente ao seu lado.

I am reasonable enough not to believe in the liberty of a man or a group to exploit, torment or slaughter other men or groups. I believe in the despotism of human life and happiness against the liberty of money and possessions.

John Steinbeck’s statement for the League of American Writers (1937).

This piece is an illustration for the cover of The Pearl, a novel by John Steinbeck.

The story revolves around a poor Mexican family. The husband earns his meager income by diving for pearls. When his son is stung by a scorpion he searches for a pearl to pay for a doctor to heal his child. He finds a perfect pearl in the ocean that brings optimism and joy to the family but it also places a burden on the family they have a great difficulty dealing with.

You can buy a limited edition print of this painting in my Etsy shop.

I doubt anybody in my street or building would know my name, let alone scheming a party in my honour.

Reading Cannery row left me longing for a more social and friendly lifestyle. I value people, always have, but admit that engaging in small talk without yawning has never been my forte.

When learning about the simple life of the characters in the row, I was envious of the lack of stress in it.  And specially coveted Mack and the boys’ relationship. It sounds so very content, harmonious and most of all, loyal.

But it is a small book, and to console myself, I chose to believe that if the story kept going for longer, we would eventually read of anecdotes telling of how, at some point, there were ”irreconcilable differences” that might have had bad, even catastrophic endings.  

Mack’s reflections over the uncountable occasions where he had the kindest and best of intentions, but for so many reasons his plans would unmistakably go wrong and end in drama, admittedly,  made me relate to him.

It is this fear of catastrophe that grants me a tendency at work for taking one of two extreme alternatives: micromanage or detach myself of all responsibility and disengage.  A pretty tough confession to make, but one that when spit out and put in writing,  helps me to attempt a change.

I connected with the book and the authors views, expressed through his characters and their nature. It is passionate, humane and transparent. No small talk, a pleasure to have read it.

WWW

“If there is a magic in story writing, and I am convinced there is, no one has ever been able to reduce it to a recipe that can be passed from one person to another.”  — John Steinbeck.

I stumbled across this today and thought I’d share. It’s funny how different we all are but still share that strong bond in loving what we’re doing.

Check this out John Steinbeck: Advice for Beginning Writers.

After my previous post on a few things Book Group orientated and The Riverside Readers I said that I would come back with a post on my personal top Book Group reads as well as discussing my top Book Group tips. Those two things would actually make a bit of a Bible of a post and so I will do the top books today and a few tips and my own experiences for and of Book Groups on Thursday, so hopefully you are all still interested in all things Book Group related. Could I fit the words Book Groups in these previous sentences if I tried?

After seeing Novel Insights wonderful post on her personal top twelve books a group could read in a year I thought I would have a go. This isn’t plagiarism it’s simply joining in, ha. Having been in a few book groups (in fact I am currently in two though one is rather rogue and we only do one every so often when the whim takes us) I realised that I had a list of 38 books that I could choose from. Some of the books haven’t worked (Tales of the Jazz Age – we all had different editions which all featured a different selection of short stories), some have received indifference, some have been disliked and some have been loved, more on those in my list.

Though I haven’t featured the books that were indifferent or went wrong I have included one book which I didn’t care for but caused great discussion and that’s one thing I have noticed from book groups, I might not always like a book but that in itself when lots of people do can make for a great book group read as it causes debate. So what five things do I do in order to make a book group choice now, I may not have always done this in the past mind;

1. Books you wouldn’t normally read – one of the main points of a book group in my mind – but which are accessible, you don’t want to alienate your other group members.
2. Books which have been received with strong reviews/thoughts both positive and negative way when they came out, this could cause great debate.
3. Books that make you think and cause all sorts of discussions with yourself in your own head though you can’t always predict these in advance.
4. Authors you love and admire who other people might not have tried, though don’t be precious on these as they could get ripped to shreds.
5. Books that challenge and push you as a reader, if they are going to do this to you they probably will be to others.

Looking back at all the book groups I have been part of in the past which book would I recommend the most? Well after some whittling of the 38 I have read with book groups I came up with the final twelve (like Novel Insights I have chosen a years worth) that I think have caused the greatest discussion in no particular order.

• Nineteen Eighty-Four – George Orwell
• The Bell – Iris Murdoch
• In Cold Blood – Truman Capote
• On Chesil Beach – Ian McEwan (close tie with Atonement to be honest)
• The Handmaid’s Tale – Margaret Atwood
• To Kill A Mockingbird – Harper Lee
• Half of a Yellow Sun – Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
• The Bell Jar – Sylvia Plath
• Animal’s People – Indra Sinha
• Grapes of Wrath – John Steinbeck (the one I didn’t like – discussion was great)
• The Book of Dave – Will Self
• Kafka on the Shore – Hariku Murakami

So there it is. You can see the full list of all 38 books now on the “new and improved” Book Group page where you can also see what the next book group read is. You may be wondering why some of the above list are in bold. Well my Gran wants a list of five books, as I mentioned on a previous post, she could put forward for her book group. I am actually going to send her a list of new books she and her group are less likely to have read along with the five above in bold. More book group musings on Thursday when I will be discussing Book Group decorum and what made me sensationally (love the drama of that word) leave a book group I started after two years! Let me know what you think of the final twelve too can you spot any themes in them? Also please do tell me of any great books you have done in a book group in the past.

P.S Sorry no picture on today’s post I am not a big fan of posts with no images, if it drives me to crazy will be the shot of The Riverside Readers again!

Published: Penguin Group Australia (2008)

First Published (USA): Covici, Friede, Inc. (1937)

First Published (Great Britian): William Heinemann (1937)

ISBN: 978 0141 03842 1

Steinbeck’s lilting writing style and flowing descriptions encase a moving and tragic theme in his novella Of Mice and Men. Set in California during the Great Depression, we read the story of two traveling farm workers who do not fit the accepted mould. Their bond of friendship in a typically lonely profession brings trouble and tragedy upon them at each farm. Juxtaposed with this is a dream both men hold in their hearts of a better life.

Of Mice and Men is a story of opposites. Ignorance versus wisdom; intelligence versus stupidity; mental cohesion versus insanity; male versus female; loneliness versus friendship. Steinbeck’s protagonists, Lennie Small and George Milton, embody these diversities in their dealings with each other and with other characters. Small-minded Lennie is fiercely protected by George until a defining moment when George is forced to choose between his innate understanding of and love for Lennie and the expectations of a bitter and hard world. Other characters such as the stable hand Crooks play an important role in the establishment of opposites. Crooks is the only black man on the ranch and holds a deep resentment within himself that contrasts with Lennie’s steadfast hope.

Intertwined with this use of opposites can be found the overriding theme of the novella, that being how important it is to perceive the true nature of others. It is a study of human nature and interaction with a tragic lesson. The ability to see through a facade, first impressions and our own prejudices brings understanding and with it wisdom and intelligence. Steinbeck speaks of this in his journal from 1983:

“In every bit of honest writing in the world there is a base theme. Try to understand men, if you understand each other you will be kind to each other. Knowing a man well never lead to hate and nearly always leads to love. There are shorter means, many of them. There is writing promoting social change, writing punishing injustice, writing in celebration of heroism, but always that base theme. Try to understand each other.”

This theme is most prominently displayed in Lennie. He is seen as dangerous and a threat to society yet he is the most gentle of all men in the book. George and perhaps Slim are the only characters who see this and the lack of understanding in all other characters pulls at the heartstrings of readers. The tragedy comes at the end of the novella when George’s intelligence and perception of Lennie’s true nature is not enough to overcome the collective ignorance of the majority of the men.

Of Mice and Men is a pleasure to read and Steinbeck offers us a valuable discussion and lesson regarding human nature and how we should treat others. It is a short novella, but a powerful one.

This weekend I have, in a chronological order which has shifted somewhat in the meantime to reflect the thought processes harbouring the things as opposed to the things in themselves,

Friday,

Cycled 2 miles, improved the financial situation of and planned a cookery night for the University Hispanic Society, read a Chilean play, studied the translations of scientific texts, watched a Coen Brothers movie from 1987, walked in the rain for ice cream at 10pm and fell asleep reading The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck in my thatched cottage.

Saturday,

Made porridge for two, enjoyed a coffee in a listed stone building near Galway’s Spanish Arch, purchased a furry tractor with wheels for my rural nephew, read a portion of Los Pasos Perdidos, a Cuban novel, prepared a presentation on the translation of scientific texts, cycled along Galway´s prom and a further 2 miles in the dark, succeeded tomato and basil soup with baked potatoes inhabited by garlic, onion and pesto adjuncted with a ginger drink with the kick of two angry mules, watched 2 episodes of family guy, watched half of a Mexican drug trafficking movie, learned part of the black velvet band on the accordion, watched a youtube video of La Bamba 12 times and attempted to play it on accordion and fell asleep reading The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck in my thatched cottage.

Sunday,

Made porridge for one, created a compost bin, cleaned a fireplace, further prepared a presentation on the translation of scientific texts, and at the time of writing have great hopes for a falafel pitta bread meal from The Farmer´s Market and an evening in an idyllic country house where I will wonder and engage with a nephew and maintain astonishingly good relations with family.

The weekend is a complete disaster, a train wreck of exploding misery and crumpled cultural collisions as I did not go for a surf which is better and more pleasing than everything.

Hier soir, Benoît Mernier, compositeur de musique « d’aujourd’hui » (dénomination qu’il préfère à « contemporaine »), a exposé au public qui avait répondu à notre invitation quelques idées heureuses et lumineuses.

Comment devient-on compositeur ? L’étiquette est pesante quand on débute, quand la mission du compositeur est de s’inscrire dans l’Histoire, rien que cela !

Benoît Mernier a eu la chance d’être toujours encouragé dans cette voie, notamment par Philippe Boesmans, qui l’aidera de manière informelle et ensuite deviendra son professeur de composition.

Pour Mernier, être compositeur, c’est être à l’écoute du monde et s’en faire l’écho. De la sorte, lorsque que l’on est à l’écoute d’un créateur, l’on est à travers lui à l’écoute du monde.

La rencontre fut aussi l’occasion d’aborder plus en détail son opéra Frühlings Erwarchen. Sa genèse se trouve dans une sollicitation de Bernard Foccroulle en 1999. Une fois l’idée digérée, Benoît Mernier est parti à la recherche d’une œuvre littéraire à adapter : ce sera l’Eveil du Printemps de Frank Wedekind, une oeuvre en langue allemande du début du XXème siècle qui traite de l’éveil d’une jeune fille à la sexualité.

Il faut également trouver un librettiste et un metteur en scène, ce seront respectivement Jacques De Decker et Vincent Boussard.

Pour le travail de composition à proprement parler, Benoît Mernier explique qu’il estime que son action dans ce cadre est de retrancher une part de l’œuvre littéraire – tout ce qui n’est pas constitué par les textes chantés –et de lui adjoindre une nouvelle composante qui transpose sous une forme musicale tout ce qui a été ôté. Il prend l’exemple de l’œuvre littéraire de John Steinbeck Of Mice And Men dont la première scène est une superbe description de paysage qui, dans une adaptation scénique, ne peut être rendue que par la musique.

La conversation, avec Noël Godts de la Médiathèque, a également abordé l’éveil musical du jeune Benoît Mernier, de l’importance dans cet éveil de Bach, de Debussy et aussi du stationnement du Discobus de la Médiathèque à Bastogne.

Mernier terminera la rencontre en évoquant son intérêt pour d’autres compositeurs d’aujourd’hui : Magnus Lindberg, pour son travail conjoint sur le rythme et l’harmonie, George Benjamin, pour sa réinvention permanente, ou l’Argentin Oscar Strasnoy.

Jean-Grégoire Muller

]]> http://lostspook4.wordpress.com/2009/11/13/camille-f/ Fri, 13 Nov 2009 18:44:37 +0000 lostspook http://lostspook4.wordpress.com/2009/11/13/camille-f/

I used to think that was the loveliest name in the world. I knew a little girl who was named Camille, and the name fitted her. She had a skin with the softness of camellias.

(John Steinbeck, To a God unknown, 1933)

It was an absolute joy to see a cast of twenty on a set which dominated the large open stage of the West Yorkshire Playhouse. This was the grand canvas that a book like John Steinbeck’s The Grapes of Wrath deserves. It describes how the agricultural society of mid 1930’s Oklahoma was torn apart by dust storms, crop failure, illness, poverty and ruthless bankers, and this production had the scope to do it justice. The Joad family are just one of many farming families who are thrown off their land and forced to become migrants, “Okies” who nobody has any sympathy or charity left for. We follow their journey as they travel, shoehorned into an old jalopy with what is left of their previous life, hoping to find work in California. It is a tragic journey which ought to be completely without hope, they are just one more group of vulnerable, despised people, vagrants who are fair game to be abused and exploited, but this is a celebration of the dustbowl poor and their strength and courage, a hymn to the dispossessed. Sustained by the simple faith and practical love of their matriarch, Ma Joad, they face every hardship and setback with a simple determination to stay together and keep moving on. What else is there to do?

Quite a story then, and enough suffering to break your heart. There were four of the people on the journey who I particularly felt for. Granma Joad was beautifully played by Jennifer Hill. In the short time that she had she managed to paint a whole picture of a woman and her long marriage which was truthful, detailed and touching. This is something that only an excellent stage actor can do with a small part and it’s a joy when it happens. It lifts the whole ensemble onto another level and provides depth and veracity. Tom Joad is a young man who is destroyed by a single flaw. He is unable to prevent himself from fighting back against injustice, and there is enough of that around to ensure that trouble has a way of finding him very quickly. It was a strong convincing performance from Damien O’Hare, and he had a great scene with Sorcha Cusack as his mother when he is finally forced to leave the family and go on the run. Ma Joad is the beating heart of the Joad family, the still calm voice at the centre of everything, holding them together. It is a wonderful part for Sorcha Cusack and she makes the most of it, giving a great performance. She is an untiring and luminous presence who will do anything for her loved ones. Jim Casy, who tags along with the Joads, is another fascinating character, a veteran preacher who has lost his faith, no longer able to find answers in religion to help him face the suffering he is seeing. His natural sense of justice and his good heart has survived alongside his cynicism. He is the most complex and interesting character in the play and Oliver Cotton had the right presence and charisma to play him. Altogether it was a fine ensemble (one or two accents which were shaky from time to time are easily forgiven when the character is there and the acting is heartfelt) and the company showed us a believable family and a believable suffering community.

The family jalopy (which was a moving realistic car) and the background set of a large collapsing wooden slatted house were both tremendously important, filling out the picture of the journey and giving it a context. All the colours on stage were those of earth and sky, in the muted tones of the familiar photographs from the dustbowl era, and combined with the clever lighting the costumes and the set made a savage kind of beauty from decay. Advertising posters were projected onto the top of the house wall, and their blind optimism provided a bitter contrast to the reality of the lives which we were watching below them. They were a constant reminder for both us and the Joads that the American dream was well out of their reach, even if they would never stop striving for it.

The original music, which was performed live, was haunting and evoked the period beautifully. I knew that it would be very special as soon as I saw John Tams name in the programme.

The final image of the play is both hopeful and heartbreaking. I am not going to spoil it for anyone who has not read the book or seen this production, even though I would love to describe it.