The title of the final story comes from an old folk song. It goes, “The bear came over the mountain to see what he could see. And all that he could see was the other side of the mountain.”
How do you think this relates to the story?
Tuesday, June 26, 2007
Friday, June 22, 2007
Marriage and escape
Mr. Vorguilla is probably the most despicable husband we've seen in this collection of terrible husbands. And Munro gives us another heartening vision of marriage:
"Well, of course he was wrong. Men are not normal, Chrissy. That's one thing you'll learn if you ever get married."
And again we have a wife running away, this time literally, from the marriage. What's different about Queenie? When she's talking to Chrissy, she seems resigned to her situation, so why doesn't she continue to suffer quietly like the other wives?
"Well, of course he was wrong. Men are not normal, Chrissy. That's one thing you'll learn if you ever get married."
And again we have a wife running away, this time literally, from the marriage. What's different about Queenie? When she's talking to Chrissy, she seems resigned to her situation, so why doesn't she continue to suffer quietly like the other wives?
Wednesday, June 20, 2007
What is not remembered
Meriel tries to remember everything about her romantic encounter --"and by 'remember' she meant experience it in her mind, one more time -- then store it away forever." And for years to come, she continues to remember things about that day, each time being jolted by the memory. It's not until after her husband dies, however, that she remembers perhaps the most important moment: The doctor refused to kiss her goodbye. And she realizes that if she had remembered it earlier, she might not have stayed with her husband. She might have left her marriage in response to her lover's denial even though nothing else had made her do so, not even the fact that she didn't seem to particularly like her husband. What do you make of that?
Young husbands
This was a remarkable paragraph, I thought, that seemed to sum up the predicament of marriage that Munro writes about.
Young husbands were stern, in those days. Just a short time before, they had been suitors, almost figures of fun, knock-kneed and desperate in their sexual agonies. Now, bedded down, they turned resolute and disapproving. Off to work every morning, clean-shaven, youthful necks in knotted ties, days spent in unknown labors, home again at suppertime to take a critical glance at the evening meal and to shake out the newspaper, hold it up between themselves and the muddle of the kitchen, the ailments and emotions, the babies. What a lot they had to learn, so quickly. How to kowtow to bosses and how to manage wives. How to be authoritative about mortgages, retaining walls, lawn grass, drains, politics, as well as the jobs that had to maintain their families for the next quarter of a century. It was the women, then, who could slip back -- during the daytime hours, and always allowing for the stunning responsibility that had been landed on them, in the matter of the children -- into a kind of second adolescence. A lightening of spirits when the husbands departed. Dreamy rebellion, subversive get-togethers, laughing fits that were a throwback to high school, mushrooming between the walls that the husband was paying for, in the hours when he wasn't there.
This, in particular, may be what drives most of Munro's men: How to kowtow to bosses and how to manage wives. The feeling of loss of control at work makes the men compensate as ogres at home.
Young husbands were stern, in those days. Just a short time before, they had been suitors, almost figures of fun, knock-kneed and desperate in their sexual agonies. Now, bedded down, they turned resolute and disapproving. Off to work every morning, clean-shaven, youthful necks in knotted ties, days spent in unknown labors, home again at suppertime to take a critical glance at the evening meal and to shake out the newspaper, hold it up between themselves and the muddle of the kitchen, the ailments and emotions, the babies. What a lot they had to learn, so quickly. How to kowtow to bosses and how to manage wives. How to be authoritative about mortgages, retaining walls, lawn grass, drains, politics, as well as the jobs that had to maintain their families for the next quarter of a century. It was the women, then, who could slip back -- during the daytime hours, and always allowing for the stunning responsibility that had been landed on them, in the matter of the children -- into a kind of second adolescence. A lightening of spirits when the husbands departed. Dreamy rebellion, subversive get-togethers, laughing fits that were a throwback to high school, mushrooming between the walls that the husband was paying for, in the hours when he wasn't there.
This, in particular, may be what drives most of Munro's men: How to kowtow to bosses and how to manage wives. The feeling of loss of control at work makes the men compensate as ogres at home.
Remembering
"What Is Remembered" gives us the first real sexual infidelity in this story collection. Rather than a wife who pines her whole married life for something exciting to happen, fantasizing about some imagined love affair, we have Meriel, who has her moment of excitement and then spends her whole married life clutching the memory like a life preserver. Do you think she's happier for having taken that plunge than the wives who only long for it?
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
timelessness
Something about the description in the first story (the descriptions of dress, maybe, or the use of trains) made me visualize that the setting was supposed to be at least a few decades ago, maybe the '60s. As I keep reading, I have that sense of timelessness, that these stories could be set almost any time since the early 20th century. Do you visualize the stories in terms of today or otherwise?
Saturday, June 16, 2007
Bargains
"Post and Beam" is another story with a tagged on disclaimer.
It was a long time ago that this happened. In North Vancouver, when they lived in the Post and Beam house. When she was twenty-four years old, and new to bargaining.
Lorna had tried to make a bargain with God, that if Polly was still alive when they returned home, Lorna would do whatever she had to do. She comes to realize later that "the bargain was already in force." Her promise was to accept that her life wouldn't change. The children would grow up and "she and Brendan would grow older and then old."
The Publisher's Weekly review that I quoted when I picked this book said, "Munro has few peers in her understanding of the bargains women make with life and the measureless price they pay."
What's your take on this idea of bargaining with life?
It was a long time ago that this happened. In North Vancouver, when they lived in the Post and Beam house. When she was twenty-four years old, and new to bargaining.
Lorna had tried to make a bargain with God, that if Polly was still alive when they returned home, Lorna would do whatever she had to do. She comes to realize later that "the bargain was already in force." Her promise was to accept that her life wouldn't change. The children would grow up and "she and Brendan would grow older and then old."
The Publisher's Weekly review that I quoted when I picked this book said, "Munro has few peers in her understanding of the bargains women make with life and the measureless price they pay."
What's your take on this idea of bargaining with life?
Wives
"Post and Beam" gives us another example of a prison of a marriage.
Think about the marriages in "Floating Bridge" and "Comfort."
In "Nettles," the narrator talks about the enchantment she feels in leaving behind her marriage and its domesticity. In "Family Furnishings," Alfrida says that the narrator will soon be a married woman: By her tone, this could mean either 'I have to allow that you're grown up now' or 'Pretty soon you'll have to toe the line.'
And now we have Lorna, who's married to Brendan (another older man, another academic), but who has odd, seemingly platonic fantasies about one of his former students. I loved this paragraph:
She did not love him enough. She would say she loved him, and mean it to a certain extent, and she wanted to be loved by him, but there was a little hum of hate running along beside her love, nearly all the time.
There's no high drama here, or in any of the stories, really. There's no domestic violence, there's not even infidelity that we know about. But these women are unhappy, unfulfilled and desperate to escape.
Think about the marriages in "Floating Bridge" and "Comfort."
In "Nettles," the narrator talks about the enchantment she feels in leaving behind her marriage and its domesticity. In "Family Furnishings," Alfrida says that the narrator will soon be a married woman: By her tone, this could mean either 'I have to allow that you're grown up now' or 'Pretty soon you'll have to toe the line.'
And now we have Lorna, who's married to Brendan (another older man, another academic), but who has odd, seemingly platonic fantasies about one of his former students. I loved this paragraph:
She did not love him enough. She would say she loved him, and mean it to a certain extent, and she wanted to be loved by him, but there was a little hum of hate running along beside her love, nearly all the time.
There's no high drama here, or in any of the stories, really. There's no domestic violence, there's not even infidelity that we know about. But these women are unhappy, unfulfilled and desperate to escape.
Death
I really appreciated how Munro juxtaposed the experiences of death in this story as a way of highlighting the difference between childhood and adulthood. The prime difference is how we understand mortality. When you are a kid, you generally have little grasp of death, or the brevity of life, or the fragility of life. You may have witnessed death; but you don't really accept your own mortality until you get older. Death is something you can play at, something that's romantic, like soldiers dying on a battlefield with women wailing lamentations, and it's reversible. When you are tired of being dead, you get back up and rejoin the game. And then of course when you grow up, you discover that death is not a game, it's not romantic, and it's not reversible. It's ugly and haunting and tragic and it's with you forever and ever — until you yourself die. It's something that — even with all the power and richness of a young imagination — cannot really be imagined by the young.
And I think we are to understand that as a blessing of youth. And it seems like some of the "awakenings" people have in Munro's stories have something to do with feeling blessed again, even for a moment.
And I think we are to understand that as a blessing of youth. And it seems like some of the "awakenings" people have in Munro's stories have something to do with feeling blessed again, even for a moment.
Friday, June 15, 2007
The unthinkable
If you think this collection contains some sad, screwed-up relationships, read "Dimension," the story I linked to in an earlier post.
"Nettles" has a dad who killed his child accidentally. "Dimension" has a dad who did it on purpose. There are really interesting questions in both about survival and pain and self-worth in the aftermath of an unthinkable act.
"Nettles" has a dad who killed his child accidentally. "Dimension" has a dad who did it on purpose. There are really interesting questions in both about survival and pain and self-worth in the aftermath of an unthinkable act.
Love
I think that Mike's tragedy with his child is a bigger impediment to an adult relationship with the narrator than his being married. Did you have that feeling?
Theirs — this broke my heart — is described as a "love that was not usable, that knew its place."
Do you think that would be true if they had just met, if they didn't have the weight of their shared childhood between them?
Theirs — this broke my heart — is described as a "love that was not usable, that knew its place."
Do you think that would be true if they had just met, if they didn't have the weight of their shared childhood between them?
Oh wait
What do you make of the fact that the "nettles" they were in were not really nettles but the less common joe-pye weed? The narrator ends the story with this "correction."
And another kiss!
What did you make of this one in the "nettles"?
The narrator describes the kiss as more a matter of survival than their "bodies' inclinations."
And yet she has been desiring him heatedly before then: a pounding heart, lust with "shooting pains."
The narrator describes the kiss as more a matter of survival than their "bodies' inclinations."
And yet she has been desiring him heatedly before then: a pounding heart, lust with "shooting pains."
Nettles
I think my favorite image from this story is of the kids washing the feet of Mike and the narrator after their golf-course outing.
Claire especially was delighted with the sight of our naked, foolish, adult feet.
It's fantastic because it's an image of humility and also because it harkens back to their own childhood when their friendship began. Only now they are the adults in someone else's Kid World.
The narrator says of her own childhood: It doesn't seem likely that such account would be taken of children's feelings, in those days. They were our business, to suffer or suppress.
It seems, though, that the same is true in adulthood, isn't it? Doesn't the narrator find that her feelings are still her business to suffer or suppress?
Claire especially was delighted with the sight of our naked, foolish, adult feet.
It's fantastic because it's an image of humility and also because it harkens back to their own childhood when their friendship began. Only now they are the adults in someone else's Kid World.
The narrator says of her own childhood: It doesn't seem likely that such account would be taken of children's feelings, in those days. They were our business, to suffer or suppress.
It seems, though, that the same is true in adulthood, isn't it? Doesn't the narrator find that her feelings are still her business to suffer or suppress?
Wednesday, June 13, 2007
Had sex. Have sex with.
He was an athletic and inventive partner and in a physical sense, not unaware of her. Not inconsiderate. But he was on guard against anything that verged on sentimentality, and from his point of view, much did. She came to be very sensitive to this distaste, almost to share it.
What does it mean to be "on guard against anything that verged on sentimentality?" What is sentimentality with regards to sex?
And how sad is it that she came "almost to share" his distaste of sentimentality? That sentence speaks volumes about a woman who gave up too much in order to make her husband comfortable.
What does it mean to be "on guard against anything that verged on sentimentality?" What is sentimentality with regards to sex?
And how sad is it that she came "almost to share" his distaste of sentimentality? That sentence speaks volumes about a woman who gave up too much in order to make her husband comfortable.
Tuesday, June 12, 2007
Domestic details
I love how Munro, in "Family Furnishings" and other stories, captures the spirit of being a young person immersed in and on the cusp of understanding the "adult world," particularly one's own family dynamics.
On dinner talk: There was hardly any idea of a general conversation, and in fact there was a feeling that conversation that passed beyond certain understood limits might be a disruption, a showing-off.
It was improper somehow to pay attention to anything that was not close at hand. (talking about books instead of the weather, for instance).
Alfrida not only accepted second helpings, she asked for them.
...she (Alfrida) was really there to talk, and make other people talk, and anything you wanted to talk about — almost anything — would be fine.
The aunts' husbands had opinions too, but theirs were brief and unvaried and expressed an everlasting distrust of all public figures and particularly all foreigners...
...and the aunts themselves seemed fairly proud of how much they didn't know or didn't have to pay attention to.
How like them, I thought, to toss aside Alfrida's wit and style and turn her teeth into a sorry problem.
flourishing under the banner of my own personality
And when Alfrida makes fun of the book in their house (and the narrator pretends to be less smart and bookish than she really is): That was the kind of lie that I hoped never to have to tell again, the contempt I hoped never to have to show, about the things that really mattered to me. And in order not to have to do that, I would pretty well have to stay clear of the people I used to know.
...usually I was affronted when people had anything to say about my appearance. Particularly when it was somebody like Alfrida — somebody who had lost all importance in my life. I believed that such people had no right to be looking at me, or forming any opinions about me, let alone stating them.
There too you could come upon a shabby male hideaway with its furtive yet insistent odors, its shamefaced but stubborn look of contradicting the female domain.
he did seem to carry around a history of defeat
The reason that I had nothing to say was not that I was rude or bored ... but that I did not understand that I should ask questions.
And in this description of her fiance, you can almost tell that their marriage will not last forever, that she will outgrow him: He admired opera and Laurence Olivier's Hamlet, but he had no time for tragedy — for the squalor of tragedy — in ordinary life.
the wearing out of attachments, that I understood so well in my own life but did not expect to happen in the lives of older people.
On dinner talk: There was hardly any idea of a general conversation, and in fact there was a feeling that conversation that passed beyond certain understood limits might be a disruption, a showing-off.
It was improper somehow to pay attention to anything that was not close at hand. (talking about books instead of the weather, for instance).
Alfrida not only accepted second helpings, she asked for them.
...she (Alfrida) was really there to talk, and make other people talk, and anything you wanted to talk about — almost anything — would be fine.
The aunts' husbands had opinions too, but theirs were brief and unvaried and expressed an everlasting distrust of all public figures and particularly all foreigners...
...and the aunts themselves seemed fairly proud of how much they didn't know or didn't have to pay attention to.
How like them, I thought, to toss aside Alfrida's wit and style and turn her teeth into a sorry problem.
flourishing under the banner of my own personality
And when Alfrida makes fun of the book in their house (and the narrator pretends to be less smart and bookish than she really is): That was the kind of lie that I hoped never to have to tell again, the contempt I hoped never to have to show, about the things that really mattered to me. And in order not to have to do that, I would pretty well have to stay clear of the people I used to know.
...usually I was affronted when people had anything to say about my appearance. Particularly when it was somebody like Alfrida — somebody who had lost all importance in my life. I believed that such people had no right to be looking at me, or forming any opinions about me, let alone stating them.
There too you could come upon a shabby male hideaway with its furtive yet insistent odors, its shamefaced but stubborn look of contradicting the female domain.
he did seem to carry around a history of defeat
The reason that I had nothing to say was not that I was rude or bored ... but that I did not understand that I should ask questions.
And in this description of her fiance, you can almost tell that their marriage will not last forever, that she will outgrow him: He admired opera and Laurence Olivier's Hamlet, but he had no time for tragedy — for the squalor of tragedy — in ordinary life.
the wearing out of attachments, that I understood so well in my own life but did not expect to happen in the lives of older people.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
Aunt Alfrida
From a review in Atlantic Monthly:
There is a long line of idolized women in Munro's stories, usually independent and childless, living emotionally extravagant, artistic lives, admired by shyer, more cautious, and often younger women. The very real suffering and squalor endured by these idols is sometimes glimpsed in flashes, with the troubling suggestion that their more colorful ways may not all have been a matter of choice. But usually the younger woman is too much in the thick of her own life to pause long to consider the implications of these hardships for herself or her future.
"Family Furnishings" is apparently at least partially autobiographical. What did you think of the narrator's reactions to Alfrida as an adult? Did you find her callous for using Alfrida's private recollections as material for her writing, or for being annoyed when she found out Alfrida had been upset by it?
There is a long line of idolized women in Munro's stories, usually independent and childless, living emotionally extravagant, artistic lives, admired by shyer, more cautious, and often younger women. The very real suffering and squalor endured by these idols is sometimes glimpsed in flashes, with the troubling suggestion that their more colorful ways may not all have been a matter of choice. But usually the younger woman is too much in the thick of her own life to pause long to consider the implications of these hardships for herself or her future.
"Family Furnishings" is apparently at least partially autobiographical. What did you think of the narrator's reactions to Alfrida as an adult? Did you find her callous for using Alfrida's private recollections as material for her writing, or for being annoyed when she found out Alfrida had been upset by it?
Escape
With "Family Furnishings," I began to notice Munro's recurring theme of escape.
In "Hateship," we have Johanna fleeing her dreary, loveless life for the possibility of companionship. In "Floating Bridge," Jinny had tried to escape before but never got farther than the bus stop; she eventually finds the release she had been seeking in a kiss with a teenage boy. And in "Family Furnishings," the narrator escapes into urban anonymity, surrounded by "people I did not know and who did not know me. What a blessing."
"Such happiness, to be alone."
Any thoughts on this theme? Is it depressing that everyone wants to get away from their lives?
In "Hateship," we have Johanna fleeing her dreary, loveless life for the possibility of companionship. In "Floating Bridge," Jinny had tried to escape before but never got farther than the bus stop; she eventually finds the release she had been seeking in a kiss with a teenage boy. And in "Family Furnishings," the narrator escapes into urban anonymity, surrounded by "people I did not know and who did not know me. What a blessing."
"Such happiness, to be alone."
Any thoughts on this theme? Is it depressing that everyone wants to get away from their lives?
Furnishings
I think in "Family Furnishings," Munro is really talking about family baggage. And I think she pretty well described how a lot of people feel about their families and hometowns.
This line particularly resonated with me: "There was a danger whenever I was on home ground. It was the danger of seeing my life through other eyes than my own."
Probably we've all felt that sense of danger at some point, of seeing our lives through our parents' eyes.
This line particularly resonated with me: "There was a danger whenever I was on home ground. It was the danger of seeing my life through other eyes than my own."
Probably we've all felt that sense of danger at some point, of seeing our lives through our parents' eyes.
Tuesday, June 05, 2007
Monday, June 04, 2007
Surprises
In "Floating Bridge," Munro once again explores life's twists, the idea that things often don't turn out the way you expected. I enjoyed her description of how even good news can throw you out of whack.
"It removed a certain low-grade freedom. A dull, protecting membrane that she had not even known was there had been pulled away and left her raw."
And then, when she is unexpectedly kissed by the young waiter, she feels ''a swish of tender hilarity, getting the better of all her sores and hollows, for the time given.''
She recognizes that this is perhaps just a momentary relief, but also that perhaps she has been given more time.
"It removed a certain low-grade freedom. A dull, protecting membrane that she had not even known was there had been pulled away and left her raw."
And then, when she is unexpectedly kissed by the young waiter, she feels ''a swish of tender hilarity, getting the better of all her sores and hollows, for the time given.''
She recognizes that this is perhaps just a momentary relief, but also that perhaps she has been given more time.
all for you, Sabitha
I not only thought Sabitha was a minor character, but belatedly, it occurs to me that she drives everything that happens in the first story. Edith's desire to first outwit and then please and entertain her friend is what sets the adults -- the pawns -- in motion.
Munro understands adolescent girls so well to make Edith loathing to impress Sabitha not because she is a good friend or an intellectual peer, but because Sabitha came back from Uncle Clark's with an impressive rack. "However they came, they seemed to indicate a completely unearned and unfair advantage."
And while Munro ends with Edith contemplating how in the world Johanna had triumphed in the machinations she set forth for her, I would bet it stung more that "she had taken the precaution of not speaking to Sabitha first, before Sabitha could not speak to her."
God, I love that line. Dear Edith -- the Sabithas are not worthy of your clever ruses!
Munro understands adolescent girls so well to make Edith loathing to impress Sabitha not because she is a good friend or an intellectual peer, but because Sabitha came back from Uncle Clark's with an impressive rack. "However they came, they seemed to indicate a completely unearned and unfair advantage."
And while Munro ends with Edith contemplating how in the world Johanna had triumphed in the machinations she set forth for her, I would bet it stung more that "she had taken the precaution of not speaking to Sabitha first, before Sabitha could not speak to her."
God, I love that line. Dear Edith -- the Sabithas are not worthy of your clever ruses!
Sunday, June 03, 2007
More Munro
If you need something to read at work, Alice Munro has a story called "Dimension" in the New Yorker that's available online.
I'm reading it now while waiting for the press to run. It's great.
I'm reading it now while waiting for the press to run. It's great.
Saturday, June 02, 2007
Edith
One thing, among many, that really intrigues me about Munro is that she acknowledges that life is about loose ends — and that's where a lot of suffering and angst come from, but also a lot of opportunity and growth. She doesn't try to artificially tie up all the loose ends at the end of a story — stories don't really end, do they, until we die? — but she does give a satisfying accounting of where characters are at that particular point and she usually intimates or outright states that even that point of view or situation will change. No emotion is the final one, to borrow from T.S. Eliot. A number of these stories span a major part of a girl's life, and we get a glimpse of her change in perspective from Point A to Point B, and often there's an implication that the hard-won wisdom of today will be even different down the road. In this first story, the action per se really concerns Johanna, but Johanna is this molded personality already — almost out of the author's (Munro's) hands in her determination, just as she defies the attempted manipulations of the girls who wish to be the author of her fate — so Munro narrates how Johanna plowed ahead into a new life, and it's lovely to behold, but I think what really concerns her are the girls who see themselves as puppetmasters, the girls who, like many writers vis-a-vis their characters, don't know who the hell they're dealing with. That's, I think, why in the end she comes back to Edith (one of many clever young women in this book whom Munro seems to identify with) and shows that she is stung by the knowledge of Johanna's fate, dismayed, insulted, but also bored and wondering why the "antics of her former self" should be connected with her present self. Who hasn't felt that way as a young person — a disconnect between the things you do and who you are? And Munro leaves us with an image of Edith's "real self that she expected would take over once she got out of this town and away from all the people who thought they knew her." This, I think, is an ironic nod to Johanna because that's exactly what she did, thanks in part to the girls' manipulations: She became the mistress of her own affairs, and got out of the town, surprising all the people who thought they knew her. At the end, it's like Munro is assessing Edith, with all her youthful dynamism and haughtiness and room for growth, and asking: Will you fare as well, my dear?
Friday, June 01, 2007
What fate has in store
What were your thoughts on the ending of the story? I've read a couple of reviews that called the Latin translation bit "heavy-handed."
And what did you think of Edith and her reaction to the way her little game turned out?
And what did you think of Edith and her reaction to the way her little game turned out?
Writing style
I adore Munro's language, the rather plain but artistic descriptions that paint such a clear image of the characters and setting. What were some of your favorite descriptions? Here are a few lines that I made note of:
Her teeth were all crowded to the front of her mouth as if they were ready for an argument.
It looked glamorous to her, like satin bedspreads and blond hair.
Since her own operation -- for gallstones -- she spoke knowledgeably and with a placid satisfaction about the afflictions of other people.
The sound of her activity would be like a net beneath him, heaven-sent, a bounty not to be questioned.
After Mrs. Willets her heart had been dry, and she had considered it might always be so. And now such a warm commotion, such busy love.
Her teeth were all crowded to the front of her mouth as if they were ready for an argument.
It looked glamorous to her, like satin bedspreads and blond hair.
Since her own operation -- for gallstones -- she spoke knowledgeably and with a placid satisfaction about the afflictions of other people.
The sound of her activity would be like a net beneath him, heaven-sent, a bounty not to be questioned.
After Mrs. Willets her heart had been dry, and she had considered it might always be so. And now such a warm commotion, such busy love.
Wednesday, May 23, 2007
T, revisited just once
A thanks, friends, for picking up my slack. Good discussion.
I'll be ready to dish about Erin's selection June 1.
KC has suggested we reprise a Fisher recipe at some point (please ... not the borscht). Cast your votes on any possibilities?
I'll be ready to dish about Erin's selection June 1.
KC has suggested we reprise a Fisher recipe at some point (please ... not the borscht). Cast your votes on any possibilities?
Saturday, May 19, 2007
From A to Z: The Perfect Dinner
Do you agree that six people at a home can produce the best possible dinner?
Z is for Zakuski
What do you think about appetizers? With my unrefined palate and background, I don’t have a lot of experience with them. Probably the most common first course for me (when I have more than one course) is chips and salsa, although I’ll get the occasional Caesar salad.
Y is for Yak
And other strange animals. Have any of you eaten any strange meat? The strangest I have eaten was fried alligator sausage, in New Orleans in 1996.
And what did you think of the Christian pretending to eat what he thought was stewed newborn baby? I could have lived without that anecdote.
And what did you think of the Christian pretending to eat what he thought was stewed newborn baby? I could have lived without that anecdote.
Friday, May 18, 2007
X is for Xanthippe
Hmmm. X is always hard to come up with in these alphabet games, so I admire the choice of Socrates' wife. Again, I was turned off a bit by Fisher's analysis of gender differences as a function of gender rather than culture. I mean, I sense that she sees through bullshit — she understands that a lot of so-called gender differences are learned, not innate — but I wish she'd be more explicit about that. I've come to think of her as sort of an intellectual Helen Gurley Brown — where the point is not so much to question or diminish sex role stereotypes as to get on the winning end of them!
If Xanthippe had been the typical Greek wife — meek, servile, unassuming — we wouldn't even know her name today, and Fisher wouldn't have her X.
Having said that, though, I do admire her notion that dinner conversation should be upbeat and polite. Sour talk spoils the food. The dinner table should be sacred, like the bed. You wouldn't offer up a bunch of complaints about your day while you're having sex, and you shouldn't while you're eating either.
Her idea of separating the kids from the adults periodically at first rubbed me the wrong way, but then I became more sympathetic, and I identified with her wish that her parents had spoken more naturally about certain adult matters in front of the children.
I want to try her scrambled egg recipe. I saw on a show long ago that you really shouldn't beat the eggs as is so often done and that they should be cooked very slowly. That's exactly how she does it.
If Xanthippe had been the typical Greek wife — meek, servile, unassuming — we wouldn't even know her name today, and Fisher wouldn't have her X.
Having said that, though, I do admire her notion that dinner conversation should be upbeat and polite. Sour talk spoils the food. The dinner table should be sacred, like the bed. You wouldn't offer up a bunch of complaints about your day while you're having sex, and you shouldn't while you're eating either.
Her idea of separating the kids from the adults periodically at first rubbed me the wrong way, but then I became more sympathetic, and I identified with her wish that her parents had spoken more naturally about certain adult matters in front of the children.
I want to try her scrambled egg recipe. I saw on a show long ago that you really shouldn't beat the eggs as is so often done and that they should be cooked very slowly. That's exactly how she does it.
Thursday, May 17, 2007
W is for Wanton
This was an interesting one. I'm again surprised by Fisher's openness, given the time period she was writing in.
I don't quite understand the seductiveness of food. Generally, when I'm eating, it's all about the food. And if I have really enjoyed the food, I have probably eaten just a bit too much to feel very seductive right afterwards.
Pardon me if this is too much information, but I generally prefer the reverse order. First I'm wanton, then I'm hungry.
I don't quite understand the seductiveness of food. Generally, when I'm eating, it's all about the food. And if I have really enjoyed the food, I have probably eaten just a bit too much to feel very seductive right afterwards.
Pardon me if this is too much information, but I generally prefer the reverse order. First I'm wanton, then I'm hungry.
Wednesday, May 16, 2007
V is for Venality
I loved Fisher's descriptions of the restaurant's seedy Hollywood deal-making. I was also reminded of all the deal-making that takes place in restaurants on "The Sopranos." There's something intriguing and romantic about it.
Tuesday, May 15, 2007
U is for Universal
Mmmmmm, salt and bread. Two of my favorite things.
KC and I were talking just the other day about a former roommate of hers who forgot the salt in her homemade bread. She didn't find the result as charming as Fisher describes here.
I love salt. I salt my vegetables, my fruit, my orange juice. But like Fisher, I was raised to believe it is rude to salt food before you've even tasted it. And I agree that food is commonly oversalted, in restaurants especially. After eating in certain restaurants, I find myself completely parched a few hours later. And that does not give me a warm feeling about those restaurants.
My dad had high blood pressure, and his doctor recommended a salt substitute called NoSalt. We kept it in a special shaker by the stove. It tasted terrible. Poor Dad, he should have just eaten the salt.
"Good bread will forever send out its own mysterious and magical goodness, to all the senses, and quite aside from all the cookbooks, perhaps the best way to learn how to make it is to ask an old, wise, and, above all, good woman."
Amen, sister.
KC and I were talking just the other day about a former roommate of hers who forgot the salt in her homemade bread. She didn't find the result as charming as Fisher describes here.
I love salt. I salt my vegetables, my fruit, my orange juice. But like Fisher, I was raised to believe it is rude to salt food before you've even tasted it. And I agree that food is commonly oversalted, in restaurants especially. After eating in certain restaurants, I find myself completely parched a few hours later. And that does not give me a warm feeling about those restaurants.
My dad had high blood pressure, and his doctor recommended a salt substitute called NoSalt. We kept it in a special shaker by the stove. It tasted terrible. Poor Dad, he should have just eaten the salt.
"Good bread will forever send out its own mysterious and magical goodness, to all the senses, and quite aside from all the cookbooks, perhaps the best way to learn how to make it is to ask an old, wise, and, above all, good woman."
Amen, sister.
T is for Turbot
... which I had never heard of before this. I'm happy to hear that it's "esteemed as food." Hehe
I have a pressure cooker, but I've never used it. What am I missing?
Fisher's trout recipe sounds quite good -- except for the gelatin, which I find horrifying.
I have a pressure cooker, but I've never used it. What am I missing?
Fisher's trout recipe sounds quite good -- except for the gelatin, which I find horrifying.
Wednesday, May 09, 2007
Q also is for pâté, quacking
KC suggested we try Sole Veronique sometime, which has a heavy sauce with grapes. Yum. I was going to suggest we have it on a cold winter night and, like Hercule Poirot, precede it with pâté on hot toast by the fire. Except the idea of pâté has really turned me off since I read an article in Gourmet about the whole process (basically force-feeding ducks) and how inhumane it is. On the other hand, because I've never had it, I wish I'd tried it.
Has anyone had pâté before? What was it like?
Has anyone had pâté before? What was it like?
Monday, May 07, 2007
S is for Sad
As you all know, I have bipolar disorder and I've been through several clinical depressions in my life. Depression leaves an emptiness inside of me that I often try to fill with food. I always gain weight when suffering from a long depressive episode.
Does sadness, depression, or death have that effect on any of you? I thought the anecdote about the man who ate all the steaks after his love died was quite strange. I suppose it is understandable, but it still is strange.
Does sadness, depression, or death have that effect on any of you? I thought the anecdote about the man who ate all the steaks after his love died was quite strange. I suppose it is understandable, but it still is strange.
R is for Romantic
Romance and sex are recurring themes in this book. What do you think of her using 8-year-old Red as an example of romance? She clearly (from all of her hints in other chapters) had other incidents she could have chosen. Why did she choose Red?
Q is for quantity
Do you suffer from the ill that she talks about in this chapter: Increasing certain ingredients in your cooking beyond all good taste? I'm afraid I've done that. When I was a boy, I always thought that more of whatever made something good would make it better. I found out that this was not true when I put way too much garlic powder on buttered toast!
But I still put too much of stuff on meals I make for myself. Too much Miracle Whip or peanut butter on sandwiches, too much sugar in or on anything sweet, too much ketchup on my fries, too much sauce on anything saucy. I think I've learned from my mistakes in putting too much flavoring into dishes, but you never know when my boyish stupidity might return and we find out just what it tastes like to have too much basil in a red sauce.
But I still put too much of stuff on meals I make for myself. Too much Miracle Whip or peanut butter on sandwiches, too much sugar in or on anything sweet, too much ketchup on my fries, too much sauce on anything saucy. I think I've learned from my mistakes in putting too much flavoring into dishes, but you never know when my boyish stupidity might return and we find out just what it tastes like to have too much basil in a red sauce.
P is for peas
Have you ever had peas that fulfill her three requirements: Very green, freshly gathered, shelled at the last moment? I wonder how much better they can be than the best peas I've had. I quite like good peas, but without having had fresh ones, I wonder how much better they might be!
O is for Ostentation
Have you ever served certain food, or eaten at a certain restaurant, to impress someone?
N is for Nautical
As I mentioned in a comment on cl's blog, I don't enjoy boats or ships. I have an irrational fear of being on the water, so I would probably be unable to enjoy meals on a cruise. Those of you who suffer from motion sickness, would you be able to enjoy meals on board? Are cruiseships large and stable enough to prevent seasickness?
And for further discussion, see cl's blog.
And for further discussion, see cl's blog.
M is for Monastic
This is related to the first chapter, as it is on dining alone, but it is now restricted to men. What are the differences between Monk's stew followed by licking the plate clean and the author's dinner of Ry Crisp, tomato soup, and California sherry surrounded by pocket detective stories?
Friday, May 04, 2007
L is for Literature
I remember the Boeuf en Daube from Virginia Woolf's "To the Lighthouse."
"It was rich; it was tender. It was perfectly cooked. It was a triumph." In fact, when I took an interest in cooking in fall 2005, the first Bon Appetit I purchased included this recipe, except I subbed beef instead of venison.
It was not a triumph, but still, I like authors who trouble to tell you what their characters are eating. It's just as important to mood as where they're at and what song is on the radio.
Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot is a gourmand, and as I tried to remember great meals he has eaten, I pulled out "Funerals are Fatal." He is host to the elderly Mr. Entwhistle, a retired attorney who has met with the survivors of a rich client and suspects that one of them did the client in.
To stimulate Entwhistle's storytelling and soothe his palate, Poirot serves:
Pate de Foie Gras on hot toast by the fire
Sole Veronique
Escalope de Veau Milanaise
Poire Flambee with ice cream
Served with Pouilly Foisse, followed by "Corton and a good port."
(Poirot, "who did not care for port, sipped Creme de Cacao.")
Any sources of literature ever whet your appetite?
"It was rich; it was tender. It was perfectly cooked. It was a triumph." In fact, when I took an interest in cooking in fall 2005, the first Bon Appetit I purchased included this recipe, except I subbed beef instead of venison.
It was not a triumph, but still, I like authors who trouble to tell you what their characters are eating. It's just as important to mood as where they're at and what song is on the radio.
Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot is a gourmand, and as I tried to remember great meals he has eaten, I pulled out "Funerals are Fatal." He is host to the elderly Mr. Entwhistle, a retired attorney who has met with the survivors of a rich client and suspects that one of them did the client in.
To stimulate Entwhistle's storytelling and soothe his palate, Poirot serves:
Pate de Foie Gras on hot toast by the fire
Sole Veronique
Escalope de Veau Milanaise
Poire Flambee with ice cream
Served with Pouilly Foisse, followed by "Corton and a good port."
(Poirot, "who did not care for port, sipped Creme de Cacao.")
Any sources of literature ever whet your appetite?
K is for Christy hates borscht
And I have little to say about the Kosher chapter. I did like this:
"It is an astonishing and moving thing that after so many flights of terror, after so many vigils in strange lands, many Jews still feast as Moses told them to do."
"It is an astonishing and moving thing that after so many flights of terror, after so many vigils in strange lands, many Jews still feast as Moses told them to do."
Thursday, May 03, 2007
"J is for Juvenile Dining"
It must be frustrating for an author of Fischer's taste to succumb to her child's mealtime preferences the way all parents eventually must do. Toddlers are tyrants at the table. You cannot make them eat anything, and they can outwait their masters for days, with no apparent consequences, until a jittery parent succumbs and gives them their cut-up Jenos pizza or a generous serving of Shrimp Poppers in lieu of taking them to the doctor for intravenous caloric support.
And to accept that TV commercials and peers' tastes will sway the child to a preference for sugary cereals, pizza and soda pop. I guess it's a precursor to when those forces will direct a child how to dress and act, and what she will read and watch and listen to. And a parent has to stand by and accept it.
My nephew Alex, 3, was eating Shrimp Poppers at Thanksgiving while the rest of us laid into various homemade hors d' oeuvres, and my grandparents began stealing them off his plate, and now they get the fried little snacks as appetizers to go with their daily "happy hour." (Which they have at 4 o'clock.)
Usually there's a link between Fischer's storytelling and the recipe that ends that essay. If you can place the context of snails in "J," do tell.
Has anyone eaten snails before?
And to accept that TV commercials and peers' tastes will sway the child to a preference for sugary cereals, pizza and soda pop. I guess it's a precursor to when those forces will direct a child how to dress and act, and what she will read and watch and listen to. And a parent has to stand by and accept it.
My nephew Alex, 3, was eating Shrimp Poppers at Thanksgiving while the rest of us laid into various homemade hors d' oeuvres, and my grandparents began stealing them off his plate, and now they get the fried little snacks as appetizers to go with their daily "happy hour." (Which they have at 4 o'clock.)
Usually there's a link between Fischer's storytelling and the recipe that ends that essay. If you can place the context of snails in "J," do tell.
Has anyone eaten snails before?
I is for "Innocent"
The Innocent can, "with a child's bland happiness, do the most God-awful things with his meals and manage, by some alchemy of warmth and understanding, to make an honest gourmet pleased and easy at table."
This was more than an essay about a cook who prefers recipes with gelatin or Miracle Whip. The Innocent built meals in memory of his late wife and observed all the rites from their time together -- the music, the types of food, the place at table. Through that he elevated his belching beloved's preferences into something more grand than they were. Don't you think of people no longer in your life (alive or not) and romanticize any of their habits, tastes and mannerisms? Is there a person you would immortalize at table or elsewhere because sentiment would sway you to do things "their" way?
Fischer had more than a meal; she participated in a ceremony to honor the departed.
This was more than an essay about a cook who prefers recipes with gelatin or Miracle Whip. The Innocent built meals in memory of his late wife and observed all the rites from their time together -- the music, the types of food, the place at table. Through that he elevated his belching beloved's preferences into something more grand than they were. Don't you think of people no longer in your life (alive or not) and romanticize any of their habits, tastes and mannerisms? Is there a person you would immortalize at table or elsewhere because sentiment would sway you to do things "their" way?
Fischer had more than a meal; she participated in a ceremony to honor the departed.
Tuesday, May 01, 2007
"H is for Happy"
My favorite in the series, I think.
Fischer makes me feel like I'm accompanying her through all of her memories in this essay. First I'm climbing the hills with Aunt Gwen, an unsanctioned fried egg sandwich in my pocket, and then I'm singing with her family in Berne, sipping cognac while road construction debris falls around the car in a kind of enchantment. Maybe they were representative of two dining experiences, too -- the homey and simple treat for an afternoon walk and a luxurious meal at an elegant hotel. In both cases, and as she's covered before, it's the company who makes the meal.
My first go-round with these essays, more of the recipes sounded appetizing, and upon re-reading, I'm a little turned off. But don't those fried egg sandwiches sound kind of naughty and good?
Fischer makes me feel like I'm accompanying her through all of her memories in this essay. First I'm climbing the hills with Aunt Gwen, an unsanctioned fried egg sandwich in my pocket, and then I'm singing with her family in Berne, sipping cognac while road construction debris falls around the car in a kind of enchantment. Maybe they were representative of two dining experiences, too -- the homey and simple treat for an afternoon walk and a luxurious meal at an elegant hotel. In both cases, and as she's covered before, it's the company who makes the meal.
My first go-round with these essays, more of the recipes sounded appetizing, and upon re-reading, I'm a little turned off. But don't those fried egg sandwiches sound kind of naughty and good?
"G is for glutton"
"I cannot believe that there exists a single coherent human being who will not confess, at least to himself, that once or twice he has stuffed himself to the bursting point, on anything from quail financiere to flapjacks, for no other reason than the beastlike satisfaction of his belly."
Fischer later exposites about why there is shame tied with gluttony, that important people no longer stuff themselves in public, and I found that ironic considering she wrote "Alphabet for Gourmets" at a time when the average woman was a size 12. Today a state of gluttony might best be characterized by a cafeteria table of high school girls, drinking Diet Coke or water, critiquing their peers for consuming solids.
Anyway ...
Don't you think there are different stages and circumstances of gluttony? Like special-occasion gluttony, when you eat a lot because the circumstance won't be repeated (eating on vacation at a fine restaurant). Wedding or anniversary or party gluttony.
Mood gluttony (one day a month, I feed my PMS and feel much better, quality of meal notwithstanding).
Love gluttony. Continuing a meal with someone because you don't want the date to end, and eating too much as a result.
I even had a case of jingoistic gluttony. I traveled with my youth group to Mexico for two weeks of mission work, of which we seemed to do little, and had no problem with the local cuisine, but we did become homesick, especially spending the Fourth of July out of the country. So when we crossed the border two weeks later and stopped at a South Texas Pizza Hut, we went crazy for American food. Greasy, salty, all-American Pizza Hut pizza, served by English=speaking workers. I still remember pillaging a cheese pizza. Isn't that awful?
Any gluttony experiences you'd like to share?
Fischer later exposites about why there is shame tied with gluttony, that important people no longer stuff themselves in public, and I found that ironic considering she wrote "Alphabet for Gourmets" at a time when the average woman was a size 12. Today a state of gluttony might best be characterized by a cafeteria table of high school girls, drinking Diet Coke or water, critiquing their peers for consuming solids.
Anyway ...
Don't you think there are different stages and circumstances of gluttony? Like special-occasion gluttony, when you eat a lot because the circumstance won't be repeated (eating on vacation at a fine restaurant). Wedding or anniversary or party gluttony.
Mood gluttony (one day a month, I feed my PMS and feel much better, quality of meal notwithstanding).
Love gluttony. Continuing a meal with someone because you don't want the date to end, and eating too much as a result.
I even had a case of jingoistic gluttony. I traveled with my youth group to Mexico for two weeks of mission work, of which we seemed to do little, and had no problem with the local cuisine, but we did become homesick, especially spending the Fourth of July out of the country. So when we crossed the border two weeks later and stopped at a South Texas Pizza Hut, we went crazy for American food. Greasy, salty, all-American Pizza Hut pizza, served by English=speaking workers. I still remember pillaging a cheese pizza. Isn't that awful?
Any gluttony experiences you'd like to share?
Monday, April 30, 2007
Erin's pick for May
"Hateship, Friendship, Courtship, Loveship, Marriage" by Alice Munro, her 10th collection of short stories.
From Publisher's Weekly: "All of the stories share Munro's characteristic style, looping gracefully from the present to the past, interpolating vignettes that seem extraneous and bringing the strands together in a deceptively gentle windup whose impact takes the breath away. Munro has few peers in her understanding of the bargains women make with life and the measureless price they pay."
I suggest that we begin discussion on June 1. Because it is a story collection, we may be able to read along as we discuss, as we are with Christy's pick.
Friday, April 27, 2007
"F is for family"
One of my favorite quotes from the series:
"The cold truth is that family dinners are more often than not an ordeal of nervous indigestion, preceded by hidden resentment and ennui and accompanied by psychosomatic jitters."
"The cold truth is that family dinners are more often than not an ordeal of nervous indigestion, preceded by hidden resentment and ennui and accompanied by psychosomatic jitters."
Thursday, April 26, 2007
"E is for Exquisite"
Fisher writes: "In my private lexicon of gastronomy, I continue to see the word 'exquisite' ringed with subtle vapors of perversion."
What is the difference between exquisite and debauchery in the sense of eating? Or entertaining?
Also, does exquisite eating, as Fisher suggests, require the outlay of a lot of money?
Have you eaten an exquisite meal you can recall? Or what would be on the menu?
What is the difference between exquisite and debauchery in the sense of eating? Or entertaining?
Also, does exquisite eating, as Fisher suggests, require the outlay of a lot of money?
Have you eaten an exquisite meal you can recall? Or what would be on the menu?
"D": Dining out
It's not my favorite essay, but I liked what Fisher had in this segment. She continues to link dining with celebration and sensual pleasure, and she frowns upon those who see "dining out" as a chore or routine habit.
"Dining out" is usually special to me just because it's too costly. I wonder how it would be different to work in an industry with regular business lunches and dinners. Just combining work and business etiquette with eating would, I think, steal away the sense of anything special.
She goes on to recount how she entertained a bigwig by choosing just the right restaurant, ordering the meal and arranging for the bill and tips in advance.
I found this a trifle braggy and wondered what everyone else thought. I suppose she was seen as a leading figure in entertaining, and so her personal anecdotes were welcome advice. And ordering for others in a dining-out scenario seemed archaic.
On the other hand, as a woman, she may have been displaying her own power, as the host who could commandeer the best table, service, pick the food and wine -- traditional men's roles in the time she speaks of.
"Dining out" is usually special to me just because it's too costly. I wonder how it would be different to work in an industry with regular business lunches and dinners. Just combining work and business etiquette with eating would, I think, steal away the sense of anything special.
She goes on to recount how she entertained a bigwig by choosing just the right restaurant, ordering the meal and arranging for the bill and tips in advance.
I found this a trifle braggy and wondered what everyone else thought. I suppose she was seen as a leading figure in entertaining, and so her personal anecdotes were welcome advice. And ordering for others in a dining-out scenario seemed archaic.
On the other hand, as a woman, she may have been displaying her own power, as the host who could commandeer the best table, service, pick the food and wine -- traditional men's roles in the time she speaks of.
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
"C" correct vs. careless
Fisher also uses “C” to point out that cook with the right books and references, whose sauces follow a reputable recipe to a science, and assigns them the dubious title of “Cautious.” Don’t you think that’s applicable to people in a lot of arts and skills? They take a mechanical approach to learning about art or music or another subject like they’re studying for a final exam where there are only some “right” answers, which don’t take their own tastes into account.
Or you have people who profess an interest in a subject but learn nothing about it. Did anybody see Woody Allen’s “Hannah and her Sisters” and remember the artist who was irate that some rock musician wanted to buy something to complement his furniture?
Ben is a great example of how not to be either. He knows a tremendous amount about music but will tell people exactly what he likes or doesn’t like without worrying about what they think, because he’s confident in his own taste. I could envision him critiquing Beethoven or Bach when most people would be too cowed by what they’re told is “good” to speak up. And if he didn’t know much about another subject, he would just say so rather than bluff his way through a conversation.
I’m getting away from the book, here, but think it’s applicable -- a “correct” host just isn’t as much fun. They have their own party but don't trust their own tastes to please friends.
Or you have people who profess an interest in a subject but learn nothing about it. Did anybody see Woody Allen’s “Hannah and her Sisters” and remember the artist who was irate that some rock musician wanted to buy something to complement his furniture?
Ben is a great example of how not to be either. He knows a tremendous amount about music but will tell people exactly what he likes or doesn’t like without worrying about what they think, because he’s confident in his own taste. I could envision him critiquing Beethoven or Bach when most people would be too cowed by what they’re told is “good” to speak up. And if he didn’t know much about another subject, he would just say so rather than bluff his way through a conversation.
I’m getting away from the book, here, but think it’s applicable -- a “correct” host just isn’t as much fun. They have their own party but don't trust their own tastes to please friends.
"C": enthusiasm
I also like how Fisher critiques hosts for their enthusiasm over taste or skill.
She describes a host: “... with no innate good taste, whose meals are incredibly and coarsely and vulgurly overlaborate and rich, but present them with such high spirits that they are unfailingly delightful.”
She describes a host: “... with no innate good taste, whose meals are incredibly and coarsely and vulgurly overlaborate and rich, but present them with such high spirits that they are unfailingly delightful.”
"C is for cautious"
This essay explores the idea of how much ambience contributes to a meal -- as important as the main dish.
A host's caution can be charming, but usually it's contagious, like a tangy vinaigrette that's been indiscriminately squirted all over a meal. It makes a guest nervous for the host, unless you're impervious to the mood. (Sometimes I wish I were one of those people -- people who talk loudly and crack their gum and walk around work barefoot -- they must be happy to be so indifferent to everyone around them.)
Fisher calls it them "the inescapable vapors of timidity and insecurity," and I think they manifest themselves most strongly at bridal and baby showers. This may be because nobody ever really wants to go to one of these things, and the nervous hostess must rally the troops anyway. The women choke down frosted cakes and Sugary, Vile Punch (I contributed a Sugary, Vile Punch to the last shower I attended, on mistaken faith in my mom's recipe), but the sweet cannot overcome the sour mood stemming from the need to break into insincere applause every time the guest of honor opens another Diaper Genie.
Still, at that shower, the hostess did a great job because she was in her element -- her natural thoughtfulness, graciousness and good taste didn't make the handmade, pink and baby-blue mints seem pretentious. Yet other friends who would carouse about Westport in our younger days would, upon taking a hostess turn, turn into automotons and hand me a glass of weak sangria and dash off to the kitchen to reheat the mini-quiches. It's not growing up, it's conforming to a vague idea of what a proper hostess will do.
Maybe the difference is the motive of the hostess: Whether she wants everybody to have fun, or whether she wants everybody to approve.
A host's caution can be charming, but usually it's contagious, like a tangy vinaigrette that's been indiscriminately squirted all over a meal. It makes a guest nervous for the host, unless you're impervious to the mood. (Sometimes I wish I were one of those people -- people who talk loudly and crack their gum and walk around work barefoot -- they must be happy to be so indifferent to everyone around them.)
Fisher calls it them "the inescapable vapors of timidity and insecurity," and I think they manifest themselves most strongly at bridal and baby showers. This may be because nobody ever really wants to go to one of these things, and the nervous hostess must rally the troops anyway. The women choke down frosted cakes and Sugary, Vile Punch (I contributed a Sugary, Vile Punch to the last shower I attended, on mistaken faith in my mom's recipe), but the sweet cannot overcome the sour mood stemming from the need to break into insincere applause every time the guest of honor opens another Diaper Genie.
Still, at that shower, the hostess did a great job because she was in her element -- her natural thoughtfulness, graciousness and good taste didn't make the handmade, pink and baby-blue mints seem pretentious. Yet other friends who would carouse about Westport in our younger days would, upon taking a hostess turn, turn into automotons and hand me a glass of weak sangria and dash off to the kitchen to reheat the mini-quiches. It's not growing up, it's conforming to a vague idea of what a proper hostess will do.
Maybe the difference is the motive of the hostess: Whether she wants everybody to have fun, or whether she wants everybody to approve.
Monday, April 23, 2007
"B" and men cooking
As in the quote from the last post, Fisher regards men's cooking as synonymous with seduction and not from the pleasures of gastronomy. The idea of a man making a home-cooked meal sounds charming and antiquated to me, but that could be the company I've kept in the past.
We ran a wire story (I wish I could find the full version) on the food industry taking an interest in men who viewed cooking beyond what you could slap on the grill with a Pabst in hand. Here's the article, but note the sex element still comes into play:
http://www2.ljworld.com/news/2007/mar/21/food_industry_reaching_out_men/
We ran a wire story (I wish I could find the full version) on the food industry taking an interest in men who viewed cooking beyond what you could slap on the grill with a Pabst in hand. Here's the article, but note the sex element still comes into play:
http://www2.ljworld.com/news/2007/mar/21/food_industry_reaching_out_men/
'B is for Bachelors'
Fisher writes of bachelors .... "Their approach to gastronomy is basically sexual, since few of those under 79 will bother to produce a good meal unless it is for a pretty woman."
This was one of the most enjoyable essays in the series and represents of the reasons I like Fisher so much; she's not only knowledgeable about food, she understands the motivations that lie beneath the sum of a meal.
I love her rules for conduct in this piece, too, that she considers it her honest duty to ascertain said bachelor's "direct or indirect" approach and then let him know ahead of time of his chances at bedding her. It makes her a frankly appealing woman of the world, not the type to toy with a man's feelings through a three- or five-course courtship and then leave him cold.
(As in "A," she notes her ability to hold her liquor in a self-conscious manner. Did she drink a great deal in the context of a gourmet diner? Is it a postwar cocktail-hour kind of norm? Or did you get the feeling she wrestled with the bottle on a personal level?)
This was one of the most enjoyable essays in the series and represents of the reasons I like Fisher so much; she's not only knowledgeable about food, she understands the motivations that lie beneath the sum of a meal.
I love her rules for conduct in this piece, too, that she considers it her honest duty to ascertain said bachelor's "direct or indirect" approach and then let him know ahead of time of his chances at bedding her. It makes her a frankly appealing woman of the world, not the type to toy with a man's feelings through a three- or five-course courtship and then leave him cold.
(As in "A," she notes her ability to hold her liquor in a self-conscious manner. Did she drink a great deal in the context of a gourmet diner? Is it a postwar cocktail-hour kind of norm? Or did you get the feeling she wrestled with the bottle on a personal level?)
'A' continued
"It took me several years of such periods of being alone to learn how to care for myself, at least at table."
Fisher seems to come full circle with dining alone to realize that she's worth more than a meal of soup and crackers if nobody has "chosen" her as a dinner companion. Again, this may be more of an issue for women, but it seems like the norm for adults is to put their life on hold until somebody agrees to complete them. They don't buy houses, don't take vacations, don't have children, like the things that give them satisfaction and/or stability require the sanction of another human being who agrees to go along the same path.
I am guilty on all counts mentioned there, and I think my interest in cooking that began at age 31 was finally that exact sense of "care of myself, at least at table." I was worth more than a plastic Lean Cuisine entree or McValue meal even if I was eating alone. Mine may have been a case of arrested development, but it reminds me of a co-worker asking whether I'd been on a cruise before (prior to the one I took last week with my mother). And I just answered no, but thought, "Right, why would I? My friends go with their husbands, and nobody else has asked me." And that's the beginning of something new -- to strike out on new ground without somebody's invitation.
Is it harder to take care of ourselves, at table or elsewhere, without someone by our side?
I'm moving on to "B" but dont' mean to narrow the discussion to these two posts. I'm interested in what else you got from this telling first chapter.
Fisher seems to come full circle with dining alone to realize that she's worth more than a meal of soup and crackers if nobody has "chosen" her as a dinner companion. Again, this may be more of an issue for women, but it seems like the norm for adults is to put their life on hold until somebody agrees to complete them. They don't buy houses, don't take vacations, don't have children, like the things that give them satisfaction and/or stability require the sanction of another human being who agrees to go along the same path.
I am guilty on all counts mentioned there, and I think my interest in cooking that began at age 31 was finally that exact sense of "care of myself, at least at table." I was worth more than a plastic Lean Cuisine entree or McValue meal even if I was eating alone. Mine may have been a case of arrested development, but it reminds me of a co-worker asking whether I'd been on a cruise before (prior to the one I took last week with my mother). And I just answered no, but thought, "Right, why would I? My friends go with their husbands, and nobody else has asked me." And that's the beginning of something new -- to strike out on new ground without somebody's invitation.
Is it harder to take care of ourselves, at table or elsewhere, without someone by our side?
I'm moving on to "B" but dont' mean to narrow the discussion to these two posts. I'm interested in what else you got from this telling first chapter.
'A' is for Dining Alone
One of the admirable aspects of this series of essays is how much M.F.K Fisher is willing to share with her audience right off the bat -- and her loneliness and self-consciousness are vital parts to her first essay.
In the time period she spoke of in this chapter, the author seemed to be at a crossroads -- not wealthy, but successful enough with her writing that her fame also isolated her, at least from traditional social gatherings that involved food. She writes: "But, for the most part, to the lasting shame of my female vanity, they have shied away from any suggestion that we might dally, gastronomically speaking." And so her unsuspecting acquaintances send her home to a can of tomato soup and box of crackers.
So she wills herself to begin eating out alone with a complicated and self-conscious set of rules -- where she can eat, how to befriend the wait staff, how to head off misperceptions about her willingness for company or her ability to handle her liquor, to a point where she realizes her outings are more a test of self-endurance than an enjoyable treat.
Has this changed much today? Why is it difficult to go places alone, and is it tougher for women? I have experienced varying degrees of discomfort trying to go it alone, though it's lessened as I've become older.
In the time period she spoke of in this chapter, the author seemed to be at a crossroads -- not wealthy, but successful enough with her writing that her fame also isolated her, at least from traditional social gatherings that involved food. She writes: "But, for the most part, to the lasting shame of my female vanity, they have shied away from any suggestion that we might dally, gastronomically speaking." And so her unsuspecting acquaintances send her home to a can of tomato soup and box of crackers.
So she wills herself to begin eating out alone with a complicated and self-conscious set of rules -- where she can eat, how to befriend the wait staff, how to head off misperceptions about her willingness for company or her ability to handle her liquor, to a point where she realizes her outings are more a test of self-endurance than an enjoyable treat.
Has this changed much today? Why is it difficult to go places alone, and is it tougher for women? I have experienced varying degrees of discomfort trying to go it alone, though it's lessened as I've become older.
Saturday, March 31, 2007
In the news
Emmett Till's family gets autopsy report
By CARLA K. JOHNSON
Associated Press Writer
CHICAGO — A 464-page FBI report released Friday contains gruesome details from the autopsy of Emmett Till, but it is so highly redacted that it doesn't shed much light on the teen's killing, which helped galvanize the civil rights movement.
The report found that Till, killed in Mississippi for whistling at a white woman, died of a gunshot wound to the head and that he had broken wrist bones and skull and leg fractures.
When the 14-year-old's body was pulled from the Tallahatchie River in the summer of 1955, the report said, "the crown of his head was just crushed out ... and a piece of his skull just fell out."
The FBI report is part of an 8,000-page file investigators amassed during its three-year investigation into the killing, opened at the request of the district attorney in Greenwood, Miss. The local prosecutor recently announced that a grand jury had declined to return an indictment in the case.
Roy Bryant and J.W. Milam, who are deceased, were acquitted of the crime by an all-white jury. They later confessed in a 1956 interview with Look magazine.
Nearly 100,000 people visited Till's open casket during a four-day public viewing in Chicago. A graphic photo of his face appeared in Jet magazine, sparking national outrage.
One of Till's cousins, Wheeler Parker Jr., said the family had hoped more people involved in the crime would acknowledge their roles during the investigation. Parker said he was not surprised, however, that no charges were filed.
"Most of the people are dead, so I guess they did the best they could," Parker said of the FBI.
Names, photos and other identifying information about living people were redacted from the report "out of privacy considerations," according to FBI spokeswoman Denise Ballew. Autopsy photos also were redacted "to protect the privacy interests of the surviving family members," Ballew said in an e-mail to The Associated Press.
The report, available online, says investigators found no evidence of Ku Klux Klan involvement in the crime.
Federal investigators reviewed the report with the family Thursday. Parker, who was there when Till whistled at Carolyn Bryant and also when he was kidnapped, said a report of a confession by Leslie Milam, a relative of Bryant and Milam, was the most satisfying part of the newly released documents.
"I was pleased to hear that one of the gentlemen confessed on his deathbed to his pastor ... that's kind of what I wanted to hear," Parker said.
A cousin of Till, Simeon Wright, 64, was present when Till was kidnapped and said the investigation proved the family never will have closure.
"There are some things that will never be resolved about the Till case until someone comes forward. Maybe they'll just take it to the grave," Wright said.
By CARLA K. JOHNSON
Associated Press Writer
CHICAGO — A 464-page FBI report released Friday contains gruesome details from the autopsy of Emmett Till, but it is so highly redacted that it doesn't shed much light on the teen's killing, which helped galvanize the civil rights movement.
The report found that Till, killed in Mississippi for whistling at a white woman, died of a gunshot wound to the head and that he had broken wrist bones and skull and leg fractures.When the 14-year-old's body was pulled from the Tallahatchie River in the summer of 1955, the report said, "the crown of his head was just crushed out ... and a piece of his skull just fell out."
The FBI report is part of an 8,000-page file investigators amassed during its three-year investigation into the killing, opened at the request of the district attorney in Greenwood, Miss. The local prosecutor recently announced that a grand jury had declined to return an indictment in the case.
Roy Bryant and J.W. Milam, who are deceased, were acquitted of the crime by an all-white jury. They later confessed in a 1956 interview with Look magazine.
Nearly 100,000 people visited Till's open casket during a four-day public viewing in Chicago. A graphic photo of his face appeared in Jet magazine, sparking national outrage.
One of Till's cousins, Wheeler Parker Jr., said the family had hoped more people involved in the crime would acknowledge their roles during the investigation. Parker said he was not surprised, however, that no charges were filed.
"Most of the people are dead, so I guess they did the best they could," Parker said of the FBI.
Names, photos and other identifying information about living people were redacted from the report "out of privacy considerations," according to FBI spokeswoman Denise Ballew. Autopsy photos also were redacted "to protect the privacy interests of the surviving family members," Ballew said in an e-mail to The Associated Press.
The report, available online, says investigators found no evidence of Ku Klux Klan involvement in the crime.
Federal investigators reviewed the report with the family Thursday. Parker, who was there when Till whistled at Carolyn Bryant and also when he was kidnapped, said a report of a confession by Leslie Milam, a relative of Bryant and Milam, was the most satisfying part of the newly released documents.
"I was pleased to hear that one of the gentlemen confessed on his deathbed to his pastor ... that's kind of what I wanted to hear," Parker said.
A cousin of Till, Simeon Wright, 64, was present when Till was kidnapped and said the investigation proved the family never will have closure.
"There are some things that will never be resolved about the Till case until someone comes forward. Maybe they'll just take it to the grave," Wright said.
Friday, March 30, 2007
BRAVE OR CRAZY
Which was James Meredith?
The first photo is of him being escorted to class by federal marshals at Ole Miss in 1962. The second photo, which won a Pulitzer in 1967, is of him being shot by a sniper on a civil rights march in 1966.
And a separate question: What do you think of there being no photographs besides the one of the sheriffs in the whole book? Assuming the author meant that singularity to support the notion that the book is a meditation on one monumental image, did you like that strategy or did you wish to see more photos — other images from the time, images from the present? Would it have weakened or strengthened the book to have photos of each sheriff — and of Meredith — showing him as a kid, a husband, a father, a grandpa, etc.?
The first photo is of him being escorted to class by federal marshals at Ole Miss in 1962. The second photo, which won a Pulitzer in 1967, is of him being shot by a sniper on a civil rights march in 1966.
And a separate question: What do you think of there being no photographs besides the one of the sheriffs in the whole book? Assuming the author meant that singularity to support the notion that the book is a meditation on one monumental image, did you like that strategy or did you wish to see more photos — other images from the time, images from the present? Would it have weakened or strengthened the book to have photos of each sheriff — and of Meredith — showing him as a kid, a husband, a father, a grandpa, etc.?
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Comment on part one
By no means would I de-emphasize the physical violence that these perpetrators used against civil rights workers, blacks or other victims, and I'm not hardened to it. But sometimes what I found more shocking was the extent of efforts to keep blacks from registering to vote or voting at all, or forming or joining advocacy groups. Maybe I think of violence as the means of dumb brutes but the right to vote as a sanctity that the intelligent would revere and protect. And it's hard to understand that the justice system could essentially imprison you if you showed up to register (as was the case in Jim Middleton's jurisdiction). Withholding these rights required so much complicity through so many branches and levels of government. It required premeditation and planning. How does one consider himself an American or patriot and play the mental hopscotch required to justify these actions?
Monday, March 26, 2007
John Cothran
What do you think of John Cothran, the four-times-married manager at the Home Depot? Are there any clues in the book as to why he has such a problem with anger (we first see him destroying his car with a tire iron)? Is he going to lose his job (he seems to be losing his authority at the end of the chapter about him)? Is he racist (an all-white neighborhood was “a selling point” when he bought his house)? Sexist (one of his employees said so)? Is he any better than his grandfather, the man with his back turned? (His grandfather, John Ed Cothran, was hard to read until he said his county was the best because they didn’t even indict lynchers.)
Cleaning up the county
This topic is related to the previous topic. Could you see any actions of the characters separate from their racism? In other words, were you able to see good in what some of the sheriffs had done even though other things they had done were so bad? If you had been a black person in a segregationalist sheriff’s jurisdiction, would you be able to say that he had cleaned up the county or that he had always treated you fairly (as some of the people in the book said), or would you just see him as the wrong person to be in law enforcement?
Even though I felt somewhat sympathetic toward the sheriffs, I still had trouble thinking that they could do anything in their jobs that would deserve praise, because their racism more than made up for all the good they did.
Even though I felt somewhat sympathetic toward the sheriffs, I still had trouble thinking that they could do anything in their jobs that would deserve praise, because their racism more than made up for all the good they did.
Sympathetic characters
How did you feel about the people in the book? Could you identify with any of the segregationalists? In my opinion, the author did a good job of bringing out the humanity inherent in each character, even the Grand Dragon and his wife. It was not difficult to feel sorry for some of the characters who I think would have done greater things if they had been raised in a different environment.
The voice
At first, the narrative voice in this book really bothered me. I thought Hendrickson was injecting himself too much into the book. I wanted a book about the people in the photograph, not about the author’s search for them. But as I read, my view softened a bit as I realized how much good there still was in the book, and how strong and personable the author’s voice was.
I still think the book may have been stronger if it had been written in a more detached way, but I realize that this would have required a totally different approach, one that this author may not have been able to pull off.
Do any of you have any thoughts about the narrative voice? Is it just me, or did it bother any of you?
I still think the book may have been stronger if it had been written in a more detached way, but I realize that this would have required a totally different approach, one that this author may not have been able to pull off.
Do any of you have any thoughts about the narrative voice? Is it just me, or did it bother any of you?
The picture
What did you think of the photograph? Was it worthy of a 300-page book? Was the author’s obsession with it justified, or did he go a little over the top? Do you believe that the men really were as they were portrayed, coincidentally like they were pictured in the photograph (e.g., the man with his back turned), or did the author’s view of the picture color his view of the men?
Thursday, March 15, 2007
Christy's pick for April
"An Alphabet for Gourmets," by M.F.K Fisher, an outstanding collection of essays on food that translates into a philosophy about living well, about loved ones and memories.
A review from foliobooks.com:
"An Alphabet for Gourmets , published in 1948, is essentially a book of the most wonderful stories. No 'A is for Apple, B is for Borscht', but, in 'I is for Innocence', the touching tale of a widower's passion for fast food; in 'B is for Bachelors', recollections of the superb meals that the unattached male, bent on seduction, can pull out of his cupboard, and in 'Z is for Zakuski', a hymn to the pleasures of sharing Russian hors d'oeuvres with the famous opera singer Chaliapin. The recipes are just as exuberantly affectionate, ranging from Aunt Gwen's Fried Egg Sandwiches to Raspberries Romanov and the Perfect Martini. With wit, elegance and a sensuous turn of phrase, Fisher considers the alchemy of the perfect meal, and muses upon that eternal mystery, keenly debated by everyone from Galen to Woody Allen: do aphrodisiacs work?"
You may find this as a paperback or in a collection of Fisher's work, called "The Art of Eating." The essays are fairly quick reads and stand alone as content matter.
My plan would be to post comments for the first six essays, A-F, on April 22, and then four letters per day after that for the rest of the week. This may be a selection, then, that you can read very close to the due date, or follow along per day.
Warning: This may put you in a gourmet state of mind ...
A review from foliobooks.com:
"An Alphabet for Gourmets , published in 1948, is essentially a book of the most wonderful stories. No 'A is for Apple, B is for Borscht', but, in 'I is for Innocence', the touching tale of a widower's passion for fast food; in 'B is for Bachelors', recollections of the superb meals that the unattached male, bent on seduction, can pull out of his cupboard, and in 'Z is for Zakuski', a hymn to the pleasures of sharing Russian hors d'oeuvres with the famous opera singer Chaliapin. The recipes are just as exuberantly affectionate, ranging from Aunt Gwen's Fried Egg Sandwiches to Raspberries Romanov and the Perfect Martini. With wit, elegance and a sensuous turn of phrase, Fisher considers the alchemy of the perfect meal, and muses upon that eternal mystery, keenly debated by everyone from Galen to Woody Allen: do aphrodisiacs work?"
You may find this as a paperback or in a collection of Fisher's work, called "The Art of Eating." The essays are fairly quick reads and stand alone as content matter.
My plan would be to post comments for the first six essays, A-F, on April 22, and then four letters per day after that for the rest of the week. This may be a selection, then, that you can read very close to the due date, or follow along per day.
Warning: This may put you in a gourmet state of mind ...
Wednesday, March 07, 2007
The basic plots
The Internet Public Library has an interesting article called The “Basic” Plots in Literature. It has five different lists of basic plots, with one, three, seven, twenty, and thirty-six basic plots on the lists.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
The story of a club
Our next book, to be discussed beginning March 15, will be Sons of Mississippi: A Story of Race and Its Legacy by Paul Hendrickson. It is the true story of the men in this photograph.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Friday, February 16, 2007
Science experiment
I get the impression most of not all of you don't read a lot of sci-fi. How did this book measure to your expectations? How does it compare to other science fiction you might have read?
War, what is it good for?
What did you think Haldeman was trying to say about war? Would you call this an antiwar book? Or is it pro-war with a comment on how veterans are treated or misunderstood?
Landing on Uranus
What did you think of Haldeman's treatment of heterosexuality and homosexuality? And did the promiscuity of the soldiers seem realistic, or did it date the story as something written in the late '60s or early '70s?
'90s remix
My edition of "The Forever War" is the rerelease from 2001. Haldeman explains in the foreward that an earlier reprinting tried to change all of the dates, but it really just screwed everything up and it ended up with confusing anachronisms. He instructs readers to just think of it as an alternate reality that happened a decade ago. Were you able to do this, or were references to the '90s distracting?
Timely traveler
Joe Haldeman wrote "The Forever War" as a metaphor for his experiences as a veteran of the Vietnam War. The war was ongoing as the work was published. Having read it with the benefot of hindsight more than thirty years after the war, how successful was he? And how much do you think the book applies to today's wars and what our vets might be going through?
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Sunday, January 21, 2007
A happy ending?
This was the sort of novel where I expected it to end tragically, that all of these flawed characters would finish their storylines on a hopeless note. Instead, most of the characters get a happy, or at least hopeful, ending, from Jones to Mr. Levy to crazy Trixie to Ignatius, who may be using Myrna at the end to escape, but finishes with this:
"He stared gratefully at the back of Myrna's head, at the pigtail that swung innocently at his knee. Gratefully. How ironic, Ignatius thought. Taking the pigtail in one of his paws, he pressed it warmly to his wet moustache."
Not only is there the promise of a deeper relationship with Myrna, and a future with somebody who understands him, but it was the first moment that Ignatius seemed to be operating with any clarity. How hopeful!
"He stared gratefully at the back of Myrna's head, at the pigtail that swung innocently at his knee. Gratefully. How ironic, Ignatius thought. Taking the pigtail in one of his paws, he pressed it warmly to his wet moustache."
Not only is there the promise of a deeper relationship with Myrna, and a future with somebody who understands him, but it was the first moment that Ignatius seemed to be operating with any clarity. How hopeful!
Similarities, influences?
I told KC that "Confederacy of Dunces" reminded me of something I'd read before and finally made the connection. It's a great, absurd play called "Oh Dad, Poor Dad, Mama's Hung You in the Closet and I'm Feelin' So Sad." The protagonist, Madame Rosepettle, is a lot like Ignatius: Distorted worldview, sexually repressed and delivers snappy, pseudointellectual dialogue.
I don't know whether it's something the author would have seen (the play debuted in the early '60s), but it occurs to me now that there's a similar, sort of Oedipal strain: Ignatius depends on his mother and becomes frightened when she gains friends, then a suitor; Madame Rosepettle depends on her son and becomes threatened when he gains a friend and suitor.
But the play also has a dangerous Venus flytrap.
Anyway, I don't know whether anyone read into any other possible cultural influences, besides the book of philosophy kc was looking into.
I don't know whether it's something the author would have seen (the play debuted in the early '60s), but it occurs to me now that there's a similar, sort of Oedipal strain: Ignatius depends on his mother and becomes frightened when she gains friends, then a suitor; Madame Rosepettle depends on her son and becomes threatened when he gains a friend and suitor.
But the play also has a dangerous Venus flytrap.
Anyway, I don't know whether anyone read into any other possible cultural influences, besides the book of philosophy kc was looking into.
Friday, January 19, 2007
Dunces with Wolves
Frieda Club, Betty Bumper, and Liz Steele are portrayed as pack of hostile lesbians. The male homosexuals, such as Dorian, are much less aggressive. What do you think of how the books gay characters are portrayed?
Dunce and Sensibility
Who do you think is the most sensible character in the book? And who
is the biggest dunce?
is the biggest dunce?
If "Seinfeld" were a novel ...
One of the publishers who rejected "The Confederacy of Dunces" did so on the basis that it wasn't "about anything." What, if anything, do you think it was about? |
Thursday, January 18, 2007
George's pick
OK, I'll let kc have her pick back, so we'll go with my first choice:
This was one of my favorite science fiction books. "The Forever War" first appeared as a serial in "Analog" then was released as a novel, winning the Hugo and Nebula awards in the mid-'70s. It's considered a response to "Starship Troopers," a pro-military book by my favorite sci-fi writer, Robert Heinlein. Joe Haldeman was a Vietnam vet, and "The Forever War" was pretty topical when it came out, and maybe is still so today. I guess we'll find out.
Also, I'd suggest trying to get the one with the above cover if you can. The first novelization was a bit censored, and the update from the early '90s wasn't quite right, either. This one, released recently, is the supposedly the version the author intended.
This was one of my favorite science fiction books. "The Forever War" first appeared as a serial in "Analog" then was released as a novel, winning the Hugo and Nebula awards in the mid-'70s. It's considered a response to "Starship Troopers," a pro-military book by my favorite sci-fi writer, Robert Heinlein. Joe Haldeman was a Vietnam vet, and "The Forever War" was pretty topical when it came out, and maybe is still so today. I guess we'll find out.
Also, I'd suggest trying to get the one with the above cover if you can. The first novelization was a bit censored, and the update from the early '90s wasn't quite right, either. This one, released recently, is the supposedly the version the author intended.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Kim's pick
OK, I am going to choose a book, but consider this George's pick, and he can have my turn next month. I've been pondering what you said, G, about dropping out of the club,and here's what I concluded: If you are living a life that prohibits you from reading even one book a month, then you have to change your life. In your case, that means you'll have to quit nursing school. There. A solution. You can thank me later.
In any case, my pick is "The Bridges of Madison County."
Kidding.
I actually gave this a lot of thought. I toyed very seriously with "The Name of the Rose." I even went to Borders last night and bought it, but I decided it was too long and that its dense ramblings about the history of Catholicism and monastic orders probably would not be of general interest. It's a really fun story, though. So I'll give it more thought, and maybe it will turn up as my next pick. I also thought about a short story collection by Ellen Gilchrist or an E.M. Forster novel, but my last book was British, so I passed on that.
What I came up with is John Kennedy Toole's "A Confederacy of Dunces," which is very comic, very American, and, as you'll see, a very touching tribute to New Orleans.
In any case, my pick is "The Bridges of Madison County."
Kidding.
I actually gave this a lot of thought. I toyed very seriously with "The Name of the Rose." I even went to Borders last night and bought it, but I decided it was too long and that its dense ramblings about the history of Catholicism and monastic orders probably would not be of general interest. It's a really fun story, though. So I'll give it more thought, and maybe it will turn up as my next pick. I also thought about a short story collection by Ellen Gilchrist or an E.M. Forster novel, but my last book was British, so I passed on that.
What I came up with is John Kennedy Toole's "A Confederacy of Dunces," which is very comic, very American, and, as you'll see, a very touching tribute to New Orleans.
A fallen woman
From kc:
The scene where Evelyn tripped carrying the milk was very telling regarding her role in the family. All the bottles break. She lies injured in the shattered glass and spilled milk. And everyone either just stares or runs away. No one helps her. It's like the whole family is paralyzed by the notion that the CAREGIVER needs CARE. What are we supposed to do? Normally in a situation like this we'd go get mom. And there's even a sense that they are a bit upset with her for putting them in this predicament. Finally Evelyn ASKS for help and the family slowly (and somewhat incompetently) responds. The scene is really, really well-written, and it adds immeasurably to our understanding of the family dynamics.
Evelyn is unique in the household, and, despite the huge family, is fundamentally alone in many ways. Her husband is an unreliable contributor, both financially and emotionally. So many of the burdens that come with raising a family fall squarely and soley on her. And not only does she not get the credit she deserves, but she has to endure her husband acting like a baby because her winnings make him the object of ridicule at work; instead of feeling gratitude from him, she has to constantly soothe his self-pity.
That's why, for me, it was so damn poignant when she made some friends among the Affadaisies. It was almost like she recaptured part of her youth, and she was suddenly in a situation where she was being nurtured by others, as well as nurturing them, and she really thrived. Her connection with the woman in the iron lung was especially touching in this regard because they both were trapped by circumstances, either literally or figuratively, and that backdrop made the freedom they felt in each other's company especially sweet. Evelyn's many travails in trying to meet her friends were almost Odyssean. She was trying to get "home" (where she intellectually belonged) and kept getting thwarted by the monsters and Sirens that were needy kids, money woes, domestic emergencies and car trouble.
Another scene, one of my favorites in the book, that highlighted her uniqueness was when she won the grocery shopping spree and she was immediately drawn to a bunch of expensive, exotic food. The family was sort of horrified. Tuff writes:
No one was going to eat the caviar.
"Do you know that U.S. Army research has shown a relationship between intelligence and a willingness to eat unfamiliar foods?" Mom said.
Except for Mom, nobody would eat the lobster either — it was just too different from fish sticks.
The scene where Evelyn tripped carrying the milk was very telling regarding her role in the family. All the bottles break. She lies injured in the shattered glass and spilled milk. And everyone either just stares or runs away. No one helps her. It's like the whole family is paralyzed by the notion that the CAREGIVER needs CARE. What are we supposed to do? Normally in a situation like this we'd go get mom. And there's even a sense that they are a bit upset with her for putting them in this predicament. Finally Evelyn ASKS for help and the family slowly (and somewhat incompetently) responds. The scene is really, really well-written, and it adds immeasurably to our understanding of the family dynamics.
Evelyn is unique in the household, and, despite the huge family, is fundamentally alone in many ways. Her husband is an unreliable contributor, both financially and emotionally. So many of the burdens that come with raising a family fall squarely and soley on her. And not only does she not get the credit she deserves, but she has to endure her husband acting like a baby because her winnings make him the object of ridicule at work; instead of feeling gratitude from him, she has to constantly soothe his self-pity.
That's why, for me, it was so damn poignant when she made some friends among the Affadaisies. It was almost like she recaptured part of her youth, and she was suddenly in a situation where she was being nurtured by others, as well as nurturing them, and she really thrived. Her connection with the woman in the iron lung was especially touching in this regard because they both were trapped by circumstances, either literally or figuratively, and that backdrop made the freedom they felt in each other's company especially sweet. Evelyn's many travails in trying to meet her friends were almost Odyssean. She was trying to get "home" (where she intellectually belonged) and kept getting thwarted by the monsters and Sirens that were needy kids, money woes, domestic emergencies and car trouble.
Another scene, one of my favorites in the book, that highlighted her uniqueness was when she won the grocery shopping spree and she was immediately drawn to a bunch of expensive, exotic food. The family was sort of horrified. Tuff writes:
No one was going to eat the caviar.
"Do you know that U.S. Army research has shown a relationship between intelligence and a willingness to eat unfamiliar foods?" Mom said.
Except for Mom, nobody would eat the lobster either — it was just too different from fish sticks.
Thursday, December 21, 2006
A pregnant woman
From kc:
I was very touched by the revelation at the end that Evelyn "had" to get married, as evidenced by the grey dress and weird wedding date. The same thing happened to my mom, and to this day she has never told me that she "had" to get married. The shame that attended an unwed pregnancy stayed with her, even though she herself, like Evelyn, would never judge another woman for that. Evelyn even tells Tuff "not to judge" somewhere in the book. And I remember my mom telling me that "getting pregnant is not the worst thing" that could happen to a girl, and I think it was her way of countering all the idiots who acted like it was, of making her daughters not feel Dorrie's desperation in "A Kiss Before Dying."
I think Tuff had a persistent sadness about her mom's life, even though it was also a source of great joy and inspiration to her. She knew that in another world her mother could have been a professional writer, could have traveled all over, could have afforded new girdles, or wouldn't have felt compelled to wear a girdle at all! could have ended up with a man who was a better companion in life. And yet she has this beautiful admiration of how her mother began her married life by being trapped (by the pregnancy) and made more of her fate than most people could imagine. She lived her life.
Evelyn and Tuff in 1996
It also has struck me that Tuff grew up to be a lesbian. And I could see the generous-hearted Evelyn, if she knew, submitting a poem to the local paper: My kid is gay, and that's OK.
I was very touched by the revelation at the end that Evelyn "had" to get married, as evidenced by the grey dress and weird wedding date. The same thing happened to my mom, and to this day she has never told me that she "had" to get married. The shame that attended an unwed pregnancy stayed with her, even though she herself, like Evelyn, would never judge another woman for that. Evelyn even tells Tuff "not to judge" somewhere in the book. And I remember my mom telling me that "getting pregnant is not the worst thing" that could happen to a girl, and I think it was her way of countering all the idiots who acted like it was, of making her daughters not feel Dorrie's desperation in "A Kiss Before Dying."
I think Tuff had a persistent sadness about her mom's life, even though it was also a source of great joy and inspiration to her. She knew that in another world her mother could have been a professional writer, could have traveled all over, could have afforded new girdles, or wouldn't have felt compelled to wear a girdle at all! could have ended up with a man who was a better companion in life. And yet she has this beautiful admiration of how her mother began her married life by being trapped (by the pregnancy) and made more of her fate than most people could imagine. She lived her life.
It also has struck me that Tuff grew up to be a lesbian. And I could see the generous-hearted Evelyn, if she knew, submitting a poem to the local paper: My kid is gay, and that's OK.
A lucky woman
In addition to her witty commercial jingles that kept her family fed and clothed, Evelyn had a lot of help along the way — the grocery store manager who let her take two clerks on her shopping spree, the bank accepting written word of her contest win versus the payment due to keep her house, and I got the impression that at least one of the contest "detectives" who visited was glad to award the prize to the family in need. I couldn't decide what made her so fortunate — would she be treated so kindly today? But I also thought she had this contagious sense of benevolence, and maybe it rubbed off on other people besides her family. Sort of an "It's a Wonderful Life" kind of person.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Monday, December 18, 2006
Our turn
Let's try our hand at contesting! How are your haiku skills?
I found two good-looking haiku contests, one from ThinkGeek.com and one from SpaIndex.com. The ThinkGeek haikus must be geeky or techy, and the Spa Index haikus must be tranquil. The December theme is "ice or snow."
OK, everybody go enter. And be sure to post your entries here for our perusal.
I found two good-looking haiku contests, one from ThinkGeek.com and one from SpaIndex.com. The ThinkGeek haikus must be geeky or techy, and the Spa Index haikus must be tranquil. The December theme is "ice or snow."
OK, everybody go enter. And be sure to post your entries here for our perusal.
Kelly Ryan
What did you think about how Terry portrayed her father in the book? Was she too easy on him?
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