FilmLit: Shakespeare in Love (1998)

Film Review: Shakespeare in Love, Academy Award winner, is the perfect definition of what literature in film should be. Set in London of 1593, the star-bedazzled cast presents Will Shakespeare as he desperately seeks love, his muse, and to complete his latest work, Romeo and Ethel the Pirate's Daughter. The script is full of in-jokes: the more you know of Shakespeare and his time, the more you'll get the movie. Lines from his great plays are strewn throughout the dialog. We meet (an uncredited) Kit Marlowe, a young and vicious John Webster, a Lord Wessex (Thomas Hardy, anyone?). We see the immortal playwright, a skull on his shelf, practicing his signature, writing sonnets, visiting his shrink. Since we know so little of him, the comedic imagining of Shakespeare rings true with only a little suspension of disbelief. He is humanized in Shakespeare in Love, given a credible life and personality that compels the viewer to keep watching, even while knowing how it all must come out. The audience roots him on. Shakespeare writes his great romantic tragedy scene by scene, even as the play is being rehearsed, the rehearsal of the growing play mirroring the budding romance between Shakespeare and Viola, his love and muse. There is ample humor, adequate swashbuckling, and just enough bawdiness to fit the times. The film's sets, score, and costumes are immaculate, the whole generously textured with perfect detail. The actors, both leads and supporting, are uniformly brilliant, and Judi Dench even more so as Queen Elizabeth. In the end this romantic comedy and tragedy reveals the power and beauty to be found in Shakespeare, and convincingly argues why we continue to read and watch his work after so many centuries. Shakespeare in Love is a vital film for anyone who appreciates, or wants to appreciate, the genius of William Shakespeare. How did they make this virtually perfect movie? I don't know. It's a mystery.  🐢

Frantumaglia by Elena Ferrante (2003)

The author of the Neapolitan Quartet shares her letters, interviews, drafts, papers, memories, and thoughts from a quarter century of writing.

Book Review: Frantumaglia takes the reader inside a writer's mind like nothing I've ever seen before. Elena Ferrante thinks so deeply, cares so passionately, works so diligently at her craft that the reader can only sit open-mouthed. This book is like a PhD course in writing. There is so much here, almost too much. She shares everything that goes into her writing, and I couldn't help but be impressed at how profound is her dedication. She writes and remembers deeply the city of Naples (and Italy itself), which is so important to and is so strongly felt in her books. Her commitment to truth in writing is inspiring for any would be author: "when one writes one must never lie. In literary fiction you have to be sincere to the point where it's unbearable, where you suffer the emptiness of the pages." For Ferrante there is a great divide between verisimilitude and authenticity in literature. She also provides draft pages cut from the final versions of her books, and lengthy explanations of why the pages were deleted. Multilayered interpretations of her plots and characters are given.

She discusses in depth her themes of the mother-daughter relationship, friendships between women, and feminism (especially her interest in difference feminism). She writes of her own parents, her mother, and her own friendships, and the dangers of friendships. She candidly admits that initially she was more attracted to female characters written by men, than such written by women, and it took her time to "to learn to love women writers." She also notes how problematic it is that some women prefer "the worst male characters" in her books. Ferrante sees numerous difficulties for women in our not yet adequately redefined modern age, and that despite the advances of feminism, women cannot "lower our guard." Addressing women in writing, she states, "Every woman novelist ... should aim at being not only the best women novelist but the best of the most skilled practitioners of literature, whether male or female. To do so we have to avoid every ideological conformity, every false show of thought, every adherence to a party line or canon." She writes of the deep significance that feminism and post-feminism have had on her writing, though not overtly included in her work, and the fragility of the gains that have been won.

Ferrante is known for writing under a pseudonym and keeping her private life to herself, in her belief "that books, once they are written, have no need of their authors." Her thoughts and writing on this issue are some of the most profound of Frantumaglia (and there's a whole section on that word), taking a razor to the concept of fandom and author as celebrity. She thinks that "for real readers, who wrote it isn't important," and that even Tolstoy "is an insignificant shadow if he takes a stroll with Anna Karenina." "I believe that the true reader shouldn't be confused with the fan." She regrets that in many cases the name of the writer is "better known than his works." Ferrante notes that we know little about Shakespeare and other great writers, that knowledge of the writer is unnecessary for understanding an author's books. "A story is truly alive not because the author is photogenic."

For anyone who has read Ferrante's books and wants to know more about the stories behind the stories, this is a perfect book. For potential writers who wish to see the process of an expert, this is a great opportunity. Apparently this book was published in part to satisfy the interest in information about Ferrante, and to placate and accommodate her very patient publishers desire for more publicity for her books. Frantumaglia was first published in Italian, and came out greatly expanded in English and updated to this year (2016). Goodreads lists it at 224 pages, but my edition had 384 pages of text. [4★]

Just Kids by Patti Smith (2010)

Patti Smith's memoir of the summer she arrived in New York and the Chelsea Hotel to conquer the world.

Book Review: Just Kids is a wonderful memoir, and I don't even like memoirs (but it also has a great title, so ...). Patti Smith, former music reviewer, poet, and punk rock princess, shows she's also a qualified writer in relating her early life up to the time she was first crowned rock royalty. A seasoned and wiser self engages the reader in her tales of scrabbling to survive (including selling serendipitously found rare books) while sinking into the chaos that was the seedier side of New York and developing the magical creativity that guided her unique contribution to rock music. She was a visual artist, a lover of music, a book lover, in love with Robert Mapplethorpe, so much was going on there in the Chelsea Hotel and elsewhere, as she began her career in fits and starts, living poor, that gradually coalesced into something that would last. Ostensibly Just Kids focuses on Smith reminiscing about her unique friendship with Mapplethorpe (and many odd, interesting, and to-be-famous others), but there is much else of value here. This is a great book for anyone interested in a role model for burgeoning creativity in all its forms, poetry, art, music, life. Smith's was (and is, I'm sure) a creative life, and she constantly worked hard to infuse her life with creation and magic. Watching her first tentative steps and slow growth, her dedication to the artist's life, is inspiring. Just Kids is valuable and riveting for anyone interested in the avant-garde, making your own way, finding the creativity within you. Personally, I liked it more than M Street, her subsequent, but quite different, memoir. A wonderful and useful book. [5★]

Fates and Furies by Lauren Groff (2015)

Two people in a life-long marriage, told from the perspective of each, to try to make a whole of the story.

Book Review: Fates and Furies was all the rage about a year ago, compared to Gone Girl, enjoyed by President Obama, reviewed everywhere. I'm a little late, waiting to read it after it came out in paperback, but still glad I did because there is so much to say. I've seen some comments about it as a commentary on marriage, but it's not, it's a commentary on a marriage. And an unlikely one at that. Fates and Furies didn't even feel like a book about a marriage, but about two people that somehow got married. The comparison to Gone Girl is inapposite and meaningless -- the only similarity is that the first half of the book is told from the husband's point of view and the second half from the wife's. But because of the chatter I was somewhat misled: don't trust the hype, it's a red herring. The story is of two "unlikeable" people (I liked both) who marry relatively young, are opposites, idealize each other and try to make it succeed. The couple fit together intricately, as do their satellites of family and friends. The husband is charismatic, larger than life, born wealthy, just wants to be loved and is, struggles as an actor, but loves to work and will never stop his attempts. The wife, born poor, is withdrawn, distant with hidden depths, whose interior life is richly and definitively drawn by Lauren Groff. The writing in Fates and Furies is the first thing I noticed. It's detailed, intricate, angular, unusual, but striking. The author worked long and hard over her sentences and it shows; there are incredible passages worth the price of the book. It took some getting used to, sometimes I had to go back and re-read a section, sometimes there were new words, but the sentences are brilliant and worth the effort. She sees all and deep with her ice pick words. Fates and Furies is a literary novel, with numerous literary references for the literature majors, but doesn't detract for everyone else, and it's a compelling read. What's worthwhile here is that Groff threw everything into this book, she aimed high, made a diligent concerted effort to write something great, and almost did. Very, very good, but not great. Not quite good enough, not a failure, not as brilliant as it often seemed. I can't fault her for that. The effort shows and the wonderful writing glows. She didn't miss by much. I want to read her previous, Arcadia, and Groff has the ability to make her next a classic. What didn't work was some pandering to correctness for no apparent reason, some overly sensational plot points to conform to current trends, characters so far from the norm as to seem unreal -- these are not people I'll ever read about except in fiction. I'll never meet Gatsby, yet somehow that book seemed more believable. But I like the comparison to Fitzgerald, and would love to see Groff tone it down just a little and write something more of the world. I think she can write deep within reality, and make it sensational. [4★]

The Year of Reading Dangerously by Andy Miller (2012)

An author decides to start a year of reading the books he's been lying about having read.

Book Review: The Year of Reading Dangerously is the (great) title, with a handy subtitle of How Fifty Great Books (and Two Not-So-Great Ones) Saved My Life. Unfortunately the reading wasn't all that dangerous, and this was not the book I expected or wanted to read. So ... disappointing ... and it's just me. Andy Miller wrote the book he wanted to write, and fair play to him, sadly, because The Year of Reading Dangerously should have been right up my street. Of the 50 books he planned to read, I've read, or have on my shelf to read, exactly half of them. And he started his year of reading because he was tired of lying to people about the books he'd read. When he saw Salman Rushdie caught out on a chat show as not having read Middlemarch by George Eliot, he decided to read the books other people expected him to have read. And I too had started a year (now almost at the end of year 2) of reading the books I need to have read to know what people are talking about. So what didn't work? Andy Miller wanted to write more about his life than about the books (which is fair), and I was reading his book to read about the books (also fair), though in fact he doesn't cover all the books on his list. So, in short, The Year of Reading Dangerously is an okay book, innocuous, humorous in parts (he works hard at being funny), nothing special but nothing bad, and when he was writing about books I was right there with him, even when we might have disagreed about one or two. But overall it's not going to change your life, or even add much to it. But I did get a tip on a book to read, Absolute Beginners by Colin MacInnes, a favorite of Miller's from his youth that he did convince me to find. Thanks, Andy. [2½★]

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen (1813)

The story of the five Bennet sisters, seeking marriage, love, and happiness, not necessarily in that order.

Book Review: Pride and Prejudice is a brilliant example of reading diversely; I don't know of any world like this, but I enjoy it. Much more than reading about the sex trade or natural disasters. Maybe this is what it's like for people who enjoy reading fantasy, about magic and fanciful kingdoms. Jane Austen describes a very insular world (not necessarily her own), where the characters come into contact with a limited number of people who are mostly just like them, generally stay, or are made to stay, within their class, and do little work, which also shrinks their world. This narrow life makes the smallest issues large, and maintaining the way of life is all consuming. Everything is rules and codes of conduct, people know what is expected of them and what they should say or do in any situation. Except in Pride and Prejudice one daughter willingly flouts the rules in a way that would have been scandalous to the middle class in early 1960's America. But all the rules, codes, and predictability are a reassuring blanket for those of us in the chaotic 21st Century. I enjoy fiction written in earlier times as a kind of time machine, here showing us an early feminism for women of a certain class in a certain place, making their own choices when they can. Here are women doing, or not doing, what they need to do to survive and maintain. The aging Charlotte Lucas makes a choice that will enable her to survive; the fearless Elizabeth and Lydia make choices that should've led to disaster. Later Elizabeth can joke that her love for Darcy began upon seeing the magnificence of his estate; which is Austen enjoying herself. Although Austen's defenders point to her as a satirist, long stretches of Pride and Prejudice are not satirical, showing genuine efforts to hold onto one's place, and genuine emotions understandable to anyone anywhere. Although the classism is strong (servants are barely seen and rarely named), Lady Catherine is just as silly in her way as Mrs. Bennet, and Wickham is just as silly as Mr. Collins. To a degree Austen invented the rom com and modern romance: how many times have these themes and plots been repeated in any number of novels and films? Even something as current as Gail Carriger's steampunk Parasol Protectorate series owes a debt to Austen's wit and humor. In this well-plotted and surprisingly complex book, Austen created rounded, flawed characters, most caught being unkind at some point (except Jane, of course), and all just like someone you might meet or know, though perhaps not of the 19th Century, white, hetero, or English. For those capable of reading diversely, Pride and Prejudice is an enjoyable escape to another place and time, whether it truly existed or not. [5★]

James Joyce: Portrait of a Dubliner - A Graphic Biography by Alfonso Zapico (2011)

A wonderfully drawn "graphic biography" of groundbreaking and controversial Irish writer, James Joyce.

Book Review: The art in James Joyce: Portrait of a Dubliner, consists of lovely "ink-wash" drawings that both tenderly evoke landscapes and lightly capture the characters involved in Joyce's tumultuous life. It's a quick and informative read with the art well documenting the story line. One bit of new information for me was that, ironically, when no printer in England would accept Joyce's play Exiles, it was published in New York; later the States, however, would be the site of the notorious Ulysses obscenity trial (for more see The Most Dangerous Book: The Battle for James Joyce's Ulysses by Kevin Birmingham). The narration in James Joyce: Portrait of a Dubliner is well written, though it occasionally goes off on a puzzling tangent, and could have used some editing, e.g., H.G. Wells is not an "American author." Although the translation by David Prendergast is transparent and well done, there were a few bumps (e.g., "took a decision" instead of "made a decision"?). My only real quibble with the book is that I'm not sure of the target audience. The narrative seems aimed at students of high school age or younger, but the art is a touch more adult. James Joyce: Portrait of a Dubliner is fine as a quick intro to Joyce in an easy to digest format, and should be good tool for English language learners. Enjoyable and fun to read. [3★]

Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (1981)

A novella about an honor killing, which almost everyone in town knew would happen, but almost no one tried to keep from occurring.

Book Review: Chronicle of a Death Foretold takes us back to the world of One Hundred Years of Solitude, written in a similar tone, with a few similar events, and the legend of Colonel Aureliano Buendia. The main plot points in Chronicle of a Death Foretold are quickly revealed: 27 years ago there was a wedding, that night the bride was returned to her family for lack of virginity, and early the next morning the bride's twin brothers intended to kill the man who had deflowered their sister and shamed their family. Gabriel Garcia Marquez apparently based this story on real life, included some actual incidents, and then spun the events of these few hours into a confusion of facts, time, morals, friendship, responsibility, culpability. Just as in a real crime, witness versions vary wildly, so the characters in Chronicle of a Death Foretold dispute what occurred 27 years before, can't even agree whether there it was raining or sunny that morning. Similarly (this is the mastery of Marquez), the book's readers themselves see many false facts, tell the story different ways, express details that do not occur in the book. These 118 pages (Spanish version; the English version ably translated by Gregory Rabassa) are a confusion of religion, twitches of time, old hatreds, families, customs, change, those who didn't do enough, those who did more than they wanted to, chance, coincidences, fatal irony. Garcia Marquez describes a willingness to stand, watch and be silent as violent death approaches. There is no hero in Chronicle of a Death Foretold, no one with clean hands, no one to save the day. Much of the crime consisted of sins of omission, failure to act. The bride decided not to feign virginity as she'd been taught, the groom decided not to ignore a common wedding night surprise, the townspeople know but do little. The brothers don't even question whether they have the right man, although Garcia Marquez answers that question three times in the book, by my reading. There is so much here to ponder that this book could be taught in an Ethics class, a criminal justice course, a seminary. Friends could go through many pots of coffee discussing, perfect for a book club. Chronicle of a Death Foretold is short, simply and quietly told, with depths upon depths, well worth reading, and re-reading. [4½★]

So We Read On: How The Great Gatsby Came to Be & Why it Endures by Maureen Corrigan (2014)

An appreciation and defense of The Great Gatsby by the book critic of NPR's "Fresh Air."

Book Review: So We Read On is one of the most valuable books ever written. Really. This book has the voodoo to enrich, maybe even save, countless lives. Do I exaggerate? Maybe. A little. If you love The Great Gatsby, or, like me, both love it and believe it's the Great American Novel (but first I must digress, why the GAN? Is there a Great Scottish, Spanish, or German novel?), you must have cringed many, many times as people told you how much they hated it when they read it in high school. Perhaps you mounted a defense, futilely argued, and ended up getting nowhere and convincing no one. Then So We Read On is for you, as this is the ammunition you needed in your feeble clash of minds. Maureen Corrigan makes the point that since Gatsby is so short, it is routinely assigned in school, when we are too young, know too little about America, or simply resent it as a book assigned to interfere with our teen-aged lives. So it is less appreciated than it should be -- read as an adult it is brilliant and irresistible. In her advocacy for Gatsby as the GAN (a small part of the book, but quite welcome as a comrade-in-arms), Corrigan claims it addresses who we want to be as Americans, reaching for the green light. That it not only says something big about America, but is also beautifully written. Her energy, enthusiasm, and love for Gatsby is infectious. She examines all of the book's elements to the smallest of details: social class, water imagery, New York City, cars, the intricate patterns, and much more. This is also a book for writers. Corrigan writes of the writing and publishing of the book, the classic cover, film adaptations, noir, the Fitzgeralds' lives -- it's all here. One point she makes is this is Fitzgerald's one completely successful novel. I agree again! We think his greatest strength was the short story, not the novel, and 50,000 words was the longest he could stretch the short story and still make it work, which was Gatsby. If you hate The Great Gatsby, are over 30 (mentally or chronologically), and have a shred of decency left in you, race to your local library and confront So We Read On, and then re-read The Great Gatsby. This is a challenge you shouldn't refuse. For all Gatsby fans and writers-to-be, an invaluable, informative, and enjoyable read. [5★]

A Gambler's Anatomy by Jonathan Lethem (2016)

A professional backgammon player confronts a medical challenge that changes his life.

Book Review: A Gambler's Anatomy was my first Jonathan Lethem, so I really don't know the tropes when it comes to his writing. There may be patterns or influences I'm unaware of, and I went into this completely blind. The main character, Alexander Bruno (also called Bruno Alexander, which I assume is a typo, among others) travels his arc as a backgammon player through three ever more controlling overseers, meets two beautiful and mysterious women, undergoes extreme (and graphically described) surgery, rediscovers a hidden ability, loses everything, and finally reaches a point of stasis. Our gambler is played by the rest of the cast as he played his backgammon opponents, and other characters are doubled in his mind as bets are doubled in backgammon. A little knowledge of backgammon will be helpful, though probably not necessary. Although the plot of A Gambler's Anatomy depended on incredible coincidences, Lethem's writing is entertaining and compelling; I read this quite quickly at thriller speed. He seems a straighter, less humorous, version of Thomas Pynchon, as he name checks Bix Beiderbecke, Flashman, Magister Ludi, Jimi Hendrix, the Big Lebowski, Abraham Polonsky, Lawrence of Arabia, the Alexander Technique, Baader-Meinhof, Bakunin (plus many more) and flashes vocabulary such as catamite, panopticon, zaftig ... the book's cast are better read and more knowledgeable than they have any right to be. I found A Gambler's Anatomy interesting and irresistible until about two thirds through when the plot began to come apart, loose ends from earlier in the book unraveled further, and I was no longer sure what or why I was reading until it wrapped up neatly, as I'd expected it to several times before. While reading I was reminded of several other books, most notably Dying Inside by Robert Silverberg. A good read, interesting (loved Lethem's descriptions of the backgammon games) and well written, but toward the end it all became careless as though the book's purpose had been lost or the author's interest had wandered. [3½★]

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel Garcia Marquez (1967)

An account of a mythical century, the magical life of the tragic Buendía family, and the fleeting town of Macondo.

Classics Review: One Hundred Years of Solitude is that kind of book. Once upon a time, at the Royal Palm Tavern, a small white, red, and green paperback was kept behind the bar, slotted neatly between the Jameson and the Bushmills, with at least a half dozen bookmarks randomly placed, one being a beer coaster and one a dollar bill. When certain of the regulars sat at the bar, at any time of day but often in the late afternoon, the bartender would bring forth both book and a beer, so the customer could return to Macondo and continue reading the irresistible story of the Buendías. One Hundred Years of Solitude has its fierce defenders and those who soon acknowledge it's not for them. A book that writers wish they had written and can find the seeds of four hundred other novels in its pages, but can't discern how it was born. A book that must be read slowly, carefully, as if deciphering an ancient text. Go back and reread a paragraph, reread a page, and consult the family tree at the front of the book often, otherwise there's no point in reading, you're just losing time. One Hundred Years of Solitude is a story like no other, a story that can't be adequately summarized. A story of those born not of love, but in solitude. We see the town of Macondo founded by a confused passion and then a century of fearful solitude, refuge in solitude, solitude unto death, a pact with solitude, the pox of solitude, a desert of solitude, until the end when the inhabitants are seeking the paradise of shared solitude, an unfathomable solitude that separates and unites at the same time, and finally are "secluded by solitude and love and by the solitude of love." The Buendía family are fated to live in the repetition of history, a family of women "with insides made of flint" and men with "the inconceivable patience of disillusionment" and an "impermeability of affection." A family for which "time was not passing" but "turning in a circle," seen even in the repetitions and permutations of the family names. A family where some have such long lives that children and grandchildren become indistinguishable. Where the centenarian matriarch asks God if He believed "people were made of iron in order to bear so many troubles." One Hundred Years of Solitude is also a history of his country and the continent by Nobel Prize laureate, Gabriel García Márquez (1927-2014). From the endless wars to the imperial banana companies, the rich and the poor, the mountains and the sea. All told in simple, slightly surreal but straightforward, alive and beautiful prose. The book is often credited as the birth of magical realism. If this is for you, it'll be a treasure that you'll remember often, from the plague of insomnia to the yellow butterflies. There are many joys and complexities to be found here, but maybe it's quite simple: "It's enough for me to be sure that you and I exist at this moment."  [5★]