Looking for Love in all the Wrong Times

Every now and again one of those stories comes along that just grab ya, and The Time Traveler's Wife is one. Nonlinear is the word that bounces around in my mind, for as I read, the story pings from one lobe to another 'til it finally finds that little bit of gray matter (or is it the white that matters?) that begins organizing the vignettes presented in this book.

Beyond the mind-bending physics, this is one of those love stories that sucks you in, grabs hold and makes you wish the author could somehow do that same time-travel thing into your life with these characters. I found myself wanting to know Claire and Henry, maybe just sit around and smoke a cigar together and just get to know each other a bit. Maybe they should start a blog - you know, just keep us filled in on their chance rendezvous. Aubrey Niffennegger's characters are so richly drawn, that the characters come to life, right there on the page. And, as I hinted at as a possible future post, these characters are introduced to us in a way that would be so foreign to the great Victorian authors, yet every bit as effectively!

I recently saw the movie and, no spoilers here, but I will say this - the movie will definitely bring a tear to the eye, but the book will just break down every ounce of machismo and leave you bawling!

Wilkie Collins and Me -OR - Where Have I Been?

Ever since the first time I saw Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol when I was a little kid (probably about 8 LOL-inside joke) I have loved the great British writers; Dickens (the spirit who haunts these walls), Keats, Wilde, and I always loved reading the sermons of Charles Spurgeon. Now let me say this before I come across as a complete idiot - I have heard of Wilkie Collins. Probably as long as I have known of Dickens, I have known the name. Over the years I could easily spout off at least a few of his works and what they are about. Given context and a line-up of mugshots I could even point out his picture! But this summer I had an epiphany, ok, epiphany's a little strong, but this ranks pretty high on the wake-up-and-smell-the-roses scale, - I realized I have never actually READ any of Collins' stuff! Fo' shame! Yikes! Ugh! Where have I been? I mean really! I read A LOT, no really, trust me on this one - I read A LOT, but I have never read a single work written by a contemporary, nay, a friend of Charles Dickens!

So, long story short - I have finally read some Wilkie Collins!! I started out with The Dream Woman and Other Stories. Like any author, I didn't care for every story, but a few were really outstanding: The Dream Woman, Nine O'Clock, and others. I liked these stories so much that I just had to run down to my library (another post for another time) and pick up a copy of The Woman in White, which is at the bedside right now.

I have just started The Woman in White, and I'm not sure yet what it's all about, but so far I am loving it! There's just something about the vintage authors that grab me and keep me coming back for more! So, when I finish this book I think we will have to discuss the Victorian writers and see what makes them different from emergent literature... nothing too heavy, I promise! 'Til then...

Good as Bad, or Bad as Good as Bad as ...

This was one of those books. I started it, put it down, started it... I don't know - somehow I had a hard time getting started. The title of this book is the tale of the book also! The story is disguised as a pretty chick story, maybe even a story for teenagers, but Rajeev Balasubramanyam weaves a poignant tale that left me thinking about the turns my own life has taken, and left me wanting to know how our heroine's life turned out! In my mind's eye, I see Balasubramanyam sitting in his study reading Frost's The Road Less Taken and finding himself writing a story of a young girl following her own roads. Hmmm, sounds a little corney, but I suppose it works. Anyway...

In Beautiful Disguises is an odd, open-ended book. The narrator describes events and conversations, but she remains mystified by most of what goes on around her. She lets herself be carried along, come what may. Only with the first arranged marriage does she put her foot down, refusing to accept what others have decided for her. (Given what is later learned about her intended it proves to be a very wise choice, though she gets little credit for that.)

The narrator experiences life almost by happenstance. Guileless, she is also peculiarly empty. Her longings are unclear, and rarely does she act purposefully or with much determination. Her first attempt to run away is feeble, and only when everything is done for her (by the kindly grandfather) is there any hope of at least short-lived success. Even becoming an actress seems only a hazy dream, not a true ambition.

The tone of the novel is also an odd one, as she recounts almost whatever seems to come to mind. Ultimately, however, it does ring true as the voice of this peculiar character.

In Beautiful Disguises also presents an odd picture of India. It is, in part, satire. The overbearing Mrs. Marceau is almost entirely a caricature, while some of the other characters are finely drawn and sympathetic. Some of the things that happen are too exaggerated, but by and large Balasubramanyam can get away with them. Still, In Beautiful Disguises seems largely the work of someone not intimately familiar with India -- a book by an outsider, with only a selective experience of it. Which actually doesn't work all that badly, given the narrator, who also is not quite grounded in the reality of that particular (or any) world.

I just read what I wrote above and it may sound like I didn't care too much for the book, but that just isn't the case. SEE! Even my review is a disguise! This book is artfully deceptive and is a curious and an oddly winning fiction, frustrating at times - especially in its aimlessness (culminating in a wide open ending) -- but seen simply as a novel (and not, say, specifically as a commentary on life in India) it is an interesting, thought-provoking effort - or is it?

Aaaand - We're Back!

You know how life just has that funny way of blindsiding you? One day you're going along just fine; good people in your life, good job, you know - everything is going well. While you're in the midst of it, you don't even notice it. Sure, maybe you're one of those people who live consciously, savoring the good times and even appreciating the bad times because you know it will just make the halcyon days even sweeter! I'm kinda like that - but not entirely. I can appreciate what a great life I have, but I tend to muddle when things are going badly... but I wander here.

The truth is, nothing serious, nothing bad or grand happened. I haven't posted anything in a long time because:

1. I changed jobs, and much like the high school kid that forsakes all his friends because he has a new girlfriend, I did that with this job change. I got so into it that all but the necessities fell by the wayside. But. All work and no writing...

2. I forgot my password. I used to try to use the same password for all my accounts, but over the years, well - that fell by the wayside too. So when it came time to start writing again, it was a major task to get into my account. I forgot the answer to my security question even! The PDA I once-upon-a-time used to store all that info went by the wayside too (in favor of my new favorite gadget, Blackberry Curve).

Hmm, I'm detecting a pattern - stuff falls by the wayside.

And finally,
3. I had writer's block. OK not really, but it feels kinda cool to say that.

So, I'm back. For now. I suppose until something else sends all the non-necessities to to the wayside. Wonder where the wayside is - can you imagine all the cool stuff that can be found there?

Dickinson's "Ample Make this Bed"

Here's a poem that I love. I first heard it in the movie "Sophie's Choice" and found it powerfully moving. Just thought I'd share it here.



AMPLE make this bed.
Make this bed with awe;
In it wait till judgment break
Excellent and fair.

Be its mattress straight,
Be its pillow round;
Let no sunrise' yellow noise
Interrupt this ground.

Emily Dickinson

Some Thoughts on Langston Hughes' "Dream Deferred" - GB Shaw

What happens to dreams deferred?

Do they fester inside? Boil up with anger and resentment? Do dreams deferred, left alone and dead by the side of the road of life begin to rot from the maggots and stink; 'til we can't stand the very thought of these dreams? Awww, have you ever had a dream that you strove for, worked hard for, desired with the very essence of your being, only to find that it wasn't attainable - at least not now? Then you wake up one day to realize that it's probably too late, and you look at those dreams with derision.

Click Here to continue

An Irony of Life and Death - GB Shaw

There reside two personae, the public and the private, within each and every person. It is likely that in most cases the public person, the person that is seen walking down the street, interacting with colleagues, friends and family is nearly the same as the private person, the person alone, either in his own head or alone at home in bed. Most people are probably pretty consistent with who they represent themselves to be to others and who they are with themselves. However, because there are certain social norms that we as a society are expected to live by, we may behave in a particular way in public that may not be consistent with how we are feeling on the inside. To that casual friend that asks how we’re doing we may respond with a stock answer, such as “Good, how are you?” when inside we may not be doing well at all; this is just a part of meeting social norms.

Click Here to continue

Creature or Creator: Who's the Monster? - GB Shaw

I recently finished reading Mary Shelley's Frankenstein and I have to say I was awestruck. Previous to the reading, likely because of a lifetime of movie-watching, I was a torch-carrying, pitchfork-yeilding villager. All I ever knew of Frankenstein's monster was his savage, murdering ways; which could only be arrested by burning. I suppose this is the trap we fall into when we watch rather than read.

Shelley's novel does indeed show a violent, murdering monster but as the story develops I found myself tearful over the tenderness and lonliness of this involuntary being. I would even go so far as to say that by the end of the story I felt more compassion for the "monster" than for Dr. Frankenstein. I put quotation marks around monster for this reason: as I read this story I began to wonder who the real monster was - creature or creator.

Click Here to continue

Love, Guilt and Death in "The Things They Carried"

In the inconceivable concept of war struggles occur on a moment-to-moment, place-to-place level and across many planes within each combatant. Beyond the obvious and often glamorized physical struggles of one soldier attempting to dispatch another soldier into the great beyond, soldiers deal with other forms of struggle be they mental, emotional or perhaps even spiritual. In his short story, “The Things they Carried” Tim O’Brien paints a picture of soldiers burdened with these pan-human struggles. From the physical accoutrements of battle to the emotional struggles of friends and family left behind at home, comrades left dead on the field of battle, the mental struggles of remaining sane amidst the insanity of battle, to the attempts to maintain rank and order in front of other men, O’Brien deftly describes the Herculean efforts of these common men. Men carrying much more than their battlefield gear.

Click Here to continue