I seem to remember from music history class in college that the list song is a time-honored tradition. Probably some Mozart aria or whatever, maybe Verdi, you could look it up. Or from the new school, take We Didn't Start the Fire by Billy Joel, pretty much a recitation of names and events from the moderan era...50 Ways to Leave Your Lover by Paul Simon...or for extra credit, Van Lingle Mungo by the eccentric and gifted songwriter Dave Frishberg, in which the title and every word of the lyric is the name of a true-life major league baseball player.
In a meta-reference I cherish, some newspaper article pointed out what should have been obvious, but what I had never noticed on my own - how writers love lists, especially when deadline looms. 19 Ways to Give Him Ridiculous Pleasure, The 14 Things Your Cat Knows, you get the idea.
So when the Palm Beach Post responded to that crazy list of 100 movies from the American Film Institute by asking readers to submit lists of their own, this was meta-reference heaven. Meta, if I understand it as it applies to the digital age means description not present in the item itself, but somehow referencing it. So the idea of a list of movies referencing another list of movies sounded, well, pretty cool.
Submissions by Post readers generated a list of novels as well as one of movies. At least, that's the way my imperfect memory renders it. Or to put it another way, that's my story and I'm sticking to it. After finding lots of books I could agree with, but never seem to find acknowledged in "official" lists (all right! one for the reg'lar folks!), I noticed Continental Divide by Russell Banks. I'd read his Affliction and seen the movie, so I crossed the divide (read the book, that is) and as usual went on to devour more of his oeuvre. I seem to remember a lot of it having to do with the Caribbean, and people of color finding their way in a world of voudun, and human trafficking, and perceptions of glory in these United States. Hey, if I'm wrong, sue me, but we're off to the races on a list and these will be snapshots only, pursuing philological progress, not bibliographic perfection.
Next!
Feb 10, 2010
Jane Smiley
The breadcrumb trail is elusive. Sometimes it's an echo of itself, so faint that I wonder if it's there at all. Then something happens and a part of it comes shining through (book title!) and down the trail I happily go, like Dorothy following the yellow brick road, or Alice down the rabbit hole.
Why did this particular memory come back to me? I think it was around 1990. Sitting at a favorite restaurant with the mother of a high school friend, talking about his peculair situation, when the conversation turns to reading. Seems we share the inescapable love of purusing the printed word, and for some reason she mentions the author Jane Smiley.
Always one to follow a breadcrumb, off I scamper to the library and next thing you know I'm awash in Jane Smiley books. A Thousand Acres is her most famous, a modern take on King Lear, but I must have read a dozen or more Jane Smileys before being attracted to the next shiny object, like Gollum and that damned ring.
To refresh my memory, I Googled her and came across this wonderful list of books. It seems after 9/11 she took time off from writing to pursue 100 novels, not necessarily the greatest, but a representative sampling according to her preferences. You know what? Sounds like a fellow traveler on the breadcrumb trail to me.
But what I can't remember, at least right now, is which book left its tendrils in my mind so strongly that it resonates to this day, and my cursory Googlization bore no fruit. Can you help me out here? Her protagonist is a middle-age woman who one day walks away from her life and settles in a small town maybe an hour away from home. She takes a Joe job, starts a new life, simply starts over sans husband or kids or anything else. And finds something resembling contentment. Not an evil woman, she lets her past know she's okay, but what an exhilarating and oddball journey.
Please help me find this breadcrumb, and meanwhile enjoy Jane Smiley.
Why did this particular memory come back to me? I think it was around 1990. Sitting at a favorite restaurant with the mother of a high school friend, talking about his peculair situation, when the conversation turns to reading. Seems we share the inescapable love of purusing the printed word, and for some reason she mentions the author Jane Smiley.
Always one to follow a breadcrumb, off I scamper to the library and next thing you know I'm awash in Jane Smiley books. A Thousand Acres is her most famous, a modern take on King Lear, but I must have read a dozen or more Jane Smileys before being attracted to the next shiny object, like Gollum and that damned ring.
To refresh my memory, I Googled her and came across this wonderful list of books. It seems after 9/11 she took time off from writing to pursue 100 novels, not necessarily the greatest, but a representative sampling according to her preferences. You know what? Sounds like a fellow traveler on the breadcrumb trail to me.
But what I can't remember, at least right now, is which book left its tendrils in my mind so strongly that it resonates to this day, and my cursory Googlization bore no fruit. Can you help me out here? Her protagonist is a middle-age woman who one day walks away from her life and settles in a small town maybe an hour away from home. She takes a Joe job, starts a new life, simply starts over sans husband or kids or anything else. And finds something resembling contentment. Not an evil woman, she lets her past know she's okay, but what an exhilarating and oddball journey.
Please help me find this breadcrumb, and meanwhile enjoy Jane Smiley.
Feb 1, 2010
Book of Marvels
Until I lost my job at the real estate office, I was blessed to enjoy the company of a co-worker's grandson, call him Bill, when she would bring him in for a visit. Age 6 or so, little Bill loved to work the old typewriter we still had. (Amazing to call an IBM Selectric "old," but that's how far we've come, I guess.) We would enjoy conversation and he even made me little presents, so I would say we had become friends across the generations.
One day his grandmother, call her Mary, asked me about reading material for Bill. In a flash I was transported back to my own childhood, remembering my enchantment with a book called Richard Halliburton's Book of Marvels. As I remembered it, he was an independent soul who traveled and wrote about places he had been. For some reason the Blue Grotto stuck in my memory, but other specifics escaped me. His writing was the thing, more matter-of-fact than breathless, but the places he visited and wrote about were so amazing that the book was an eye-opener for a boy of 7 or 8. That's how old I suppose I was when I found it on the school library shelves, and devoured it eagerly. Oh, it was illustrated with photographs, too.
At any rate, Mary found a copy of it on eBay or Amazon and picked it up for less than $20. It was heavily used, so she repaired the binding with some heavy black tape and gave it to Bill, who loved it.
Isn't it something? A book from 1941 enters the imagination of a boy in 1959 thanks to a well-run school library. Forty years later the digital age makes it possible for a a grandmother to find the book at a reasonable cost, and spur the imagination of her grandson. Reading is a legacy we can pass on, if we only take the time to do it.
By the way, a quick visit to Amazon just now showed "four copies (used) from $89.50." Ulp.
One day his grandmother, call her Mary, asked me about reading material for Bill. In a flash I was transported back to my own childhood, remembering my enchantment with a book called Richard Halliburton's Book of Marvels. As I remembered it, he was an independent soul who traveled and wrote about places he had been. For some reason the Blue Grotto stuck in my memory, but other specifics escaped me. His writing was the thing, more matter-of-fact than breathless, but the places he visited and wrote about were so amazing that the book was an eye-opener for a boy of 7 or 8. That's how old I suppose I was when I found it on the school library shelves, and devoured it eagerly. Oh, it was illustrated with photographs, too.
At any rate, Mary found a copy of it on eBay or Amazon and picked it up for less than $20. It was heavily used, so she repaired the binding with some heavy black tape and gave it to Bill, who loved it.
Isn't it something? A book from 1941 enters the imagination of a boy in 1959 thanks to a well-run school library. Forty years later the digital age makes it possible for a a grandmother to find the book at a reasonable cost, and spur the imagination of her grandson. Reading is a legacy we can pass on, if we only take the time to do it.
By the way, a quick visit to Amazon just now showed "four copies (used) from $89.50." Ulp.
E. L. Doctorow
Homer and Langley was a gift from my wife. Marie, the amazing woman who takes the plunge in giving me books and music I haven't even asked for, is my muse. Sure, I love getting a gift card but Marie is the one willing to look for stuff on her own, and I am forever grateful.
Homer and Langley are brothers living in Manhattan. This is a story that is both warm and chilling at the same time, wonderfully written and wonderful to read, but with an ending that left me filled with reflections on our fleeting lives.
No spoiler from me. I'll just mention that Homer's descent, if that is what it is, begins with the gradual disappearance of his hearing as a youngster, while Langley's is brought on by the traumas of World War I combat, and its subtle development as full-blown mental illness. The two are lifelong friends and companions who try to fend off isolation in their big old house.
I recommend the book and plan to re-read Doctorow's Ragtime, followed by investigation of his other work. Thanks again to my muse, my own friend and companion, my lifelong lover Marie for such an incredible gift. How does she do it?
Homer and Langley are brothers living in Manhattan. This is a story that is both warm and chilling at the same time, wonderfully written and wonderful to read, but with an ending that left me filled with reflections on our fleeting lives.
No spoiler from me. I'll just mention that Homer's descent, if that is what it is, begins with the gradual disappearance of his hearing as a youngster, while Langley's is brought on by the traumas of World War I combat, and its subtle development as full-blown mental illness. The two are lifelong friends and companions who try to fend off isolation in their big old house.
I recommend the book and plan to re-read Doctorow's Ragtime, followed by investigation of his other work. Thanks again to my muse, my own friend and companion, my lifelong lover Marie for such an incredible gift. How does she do it?
Jan 3, 2010
Back in the saddle
Or, Ride Captain Ride...
Alas, gentle reader, it's been too long since I dented your brain with any kind of message. But read and remember I do, and write I must.
News flash - I seem to keep misplacing jobs. While looking for them, I feel distracted from this pleasant duty. Still looking, but refusing any longer to stay away.
(Flash sideways - I don't know this Yoda-speak from where it comes, but addictive it strangely is when begins it once does, er, do.)
Where to begin? Reverse chronological order suggests itself, a nice counterpoint to some of the previous reflections, for example the one about 1969.
Currently reading South of Broad by Pat Conroy. Enjoying the plot line tremendously, and enjoyed Beach Music and maybe one other of his before, but funny, I don't remember his writing being quite so ripe, the flow being quite so, well, Southern. But as Conroy is a guy who references Tennessee Williams from time to time, it seems somehow "fittin'," as Butterfly McQueen might have said.
Before that, just finished That Old Cape Magic by Richard Russo. I became a confirmed fan after my daughter suggested one of his and I read it. Thanks, Jen! Russo is one of my faves and this one rang the bell for me yet again. Halfway through, I commented to my wife Marie that good fiction still teaches me more about our human relationships than I can explain or express. Russo's characters live up to that billing big-time, at least to this happily addicted reader. For those not lucky enough to have had a Russo recommendation before this, I'll mention that the new one pits a male protagonist against his upbringing by intellectucally snobbish parents, and the way it affects his cooling marriage. Good stuff and yes, occasional comic relief.
Paul Newman was wonderful in Nobody's Fool. I read the Russo novel after seeing the movie (and reading the one Jen started me on, might have been Empire Falls) and could easily see why Newman optioned several of his novels. I seem to remember it took ten years before Newman, even with his clout, could get Nobody's Fool to the screen, but the wait was worth it. Meanwhile Empire Falls was made into a very good mini-series, I think for HBO. All are recommended highly.
The new Russo and the new Conroy were both Christmas presents from my dear wife. Although things have been tight since those jobs went astray, and I asked for just one book, she couldn't stop short of four instead. Once I finish South of Broad, it's on to Homer & Langley by E. L. Doctorow. Wow. I read his Ragtime many years ago and thoroughly enjoyed the movie (with a wonderful Randy Newman score) but feel sure I've been missing out on one of our great writers. Thanks, Marie! This will be one to look forward to. I'll get to gift book #4 in another post, and try to trace my steps since the last post, if the birds haven't gobbled up all the breadcrumbs.
Alas, gentle reader, it's been too long since I dented your brain with any kind of message. But read and remember I do, and write I must.
News flash - I seem to keep misplacing jobs. While looking for them, I feel distracted from this pleasant duty. Still looking, but refusing any longer to stay away.
(Flash sideways - I don't know this Yoda-speak from where it comes, but addictive it strangely is when begins it once does, er, do.)
Where to begin? Reverse chronological order suggests itself, a nice counterpoint to some of the previous reflections, for example the one about 1969.
Currently reading South of Broad by Pat Conroy. Enjoying the plot line tremendously, and enjoyed Beach Music and maybe one other of his before, but funny, I don't remember his writing being quite so ripe, the flow being quite so, well, Southern. But as Conroy is a guy who references Tennessee Williams from time to time, it seems somehow "fittin'," as Butterfly McQueen might have said.
Before that, just finished That Old Cape Magic by Richard Russo. I became a confirmed fan after my daughter suggested one of his and I read it. Thanks, Jen! Russo is one of my faves and this one rang the bell for me yet again. Halfway through, I commented to my wife Marie that good fiction still teaches me more about our human relationships than I can explain or express. Russo's characters live up to that billing big-time, at least to this happily addicted reader. For those not lucky enough to have had a Russo recommendation before this, I'll mention that the new one pits a male protagonist against his upbringing by intellectucally snobbish parents, and the way it affects his cooling marriage. Good stuff and yes, occasional comic relief.
Paul Newman was wonderful in Nobody's Fool. I read the Russo novel after seeing the movie (and reading the one Jen started me on, might have been Empire Falls) and could easily see why Newman optioned several of his novels. I seem to remember it took ten years before Newman, even with his clout, could get Nobody's Fool to the screen, but the wait was worth it. Meanwhile Empire Falls was made into a very good mini-series, I think for HBO. All are recommended highly.
The new Russo and the new Conroy were both Christmas presents from my dear wife. Although things have been tight since those jobs went astray, and I asked for just one book, she couldn't stop short of four instead. Once I finish South of Broad, it's on to Homer & Langley by E. L. Doctorow. Wow. I read his Ragtime many years ago and thoroughly enjoyed the movie (with a wonderful Randy Newman score) but feel sure I've been missing out on one of our great writers. Thanks, Marie! This will be one to look forward to. I'll get to gift book #4 in another post, and try to trace my steps since the last post, if the birds haven't gobbled up all the breadcrumbs.
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