Hello Gentle Readers
Well it’s happening as promised. It is the first short story review. Now some of you may remember that on August 25 2010 I had reviewed the short story collection by the literary recluse and cult figure Thomas Ligotti’s short story collection, “Teatro Grottesco.” But that was reviewing the entire collection, not the stories necessarily individually. Also we may not have seen the last of Thomas Ligotti’s “Teatro Grottesco,” seeing as it is also a short story collection it may also participate on each stories individual level. That way each story can be examined individually. This is what “The Short Story Review,” is to do. It is to review, a collection of short stories by some authors. One from each of their collections. Lets introduce shall we the players in this experimentation of mine.
There is the Edwardian Era Oscar Wilde author who satirised the “Golden Afternoon,” (the slow and peaceful years in England’s history before the break out of World War I) H.H. Munro or also known as: Saki. His comical are reminiscent of the early Russian master of the short story Anton Chekhov. I look forward to reading these stories.
The next author is a writer who in my limited knowledge picks up the mantle of the realism short stories of the 1980’s short story renaissance in America. This minimalist short story writer or as she prefers to be called miniaturist short story writer constructs very precise and detailed sentences in order to create a touching and moving story. Perhaps one of the most famous short story writers in America of the last three decades is Amy Hempel.
The next author is back in the twentieth century. But not as far back as Saki. The first Japanese author to win the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1968 is Yasunari Kawabata, whose subtle prose delicate descriptions, ethereal comparisons with beautiful similes and metaphors; and his mastery of the psychological novel and art form, and also a practitioner of the modernist style of the early twentieth century, in a Japanese setting has earned him the Nobel Prize as well as my readership and from the stories that I have read so far, my admiration.
Where is Canada’s literary scene today without this hushed quiet whispered name of this author? The grandmother of Canadian short fiction, with her warm and heart, gentle laugh, and sweet honesty and always compassionate wisdom. Cynthia Ozick has called her “our Chekhov.” Yes dear gentle reader it is Alice Munro.
Will Self, the satirical humorous and absurd bad boy author of English Literature, is also a formidable author, of short stories. Known for taking an ordinary aspect of the modern world, and then pushing it to its extreme, of absurdity and insanity. Will Self is known for his comical voice, and but I am interested to see his work, and their “bizarre,” style and also to see his comic style and voice.
The last author of short stories is the granddame of psychological thriller, and known as a dark psychological novelist, who is seen in the tradition of authors like Albert Camus, Joseph Conard, Franz Kafka, Andre Gide, and I think probably the most influential author on this authors career Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Yes it is the one and only author Patricia Highsmith.
Here is hoping that the short story collections that have been picked are good. Already I can’t help but think who else would be really good to read. Part of me screams that “The Collected Stories,” of Ivan Bunin would have been lovely to read – and part of me agrees. Ivan Bunin was the first Russian author to win the Nobel Prize in Literature way back in the year of 1933. Then there was the late discovery of the contemporary Russian novelist and short story writer Victor Pelevin who is more of an enigma and abstract now then he was when I had first discovered him. Then there were other authors we are well known for their short stories. Authors like Franz Kafka’s absurd and darkly comic bleak stories of the human struggle. Anton Chekhov probably one of the most renowned short story authors. I considered the practitioner of American “Dirty Realism,” and the head of the American 1980’s short story renaissance Raymond Carver. The cantankerous Charles Bukowski was also a person considered. The Irish man by the name of William Trevor, short stories were also considered. The stories of the mentally ill the madness, and its warped reality in “You Are Not a Stranger Here,” by Adam Haslett. I also considered “Cold Snap,” by Thom Jones – but it was sold out.
One can see there were not a lot of woman writers coming to the top of my mind, and many feminists or woman or anyone really would say that in this particular list the penis is certainly being favoured. However, the entirely ignorant notion that as a reader of fiction (and now in a few cases non-fiction) and also being a man, I do prefer the work of men. The reason why? A lot of woman writers, are sexist and make the divide between their male and female characters quite clear. The gender divide is clearly shown. That the male characters are usually underdeveloped, and that the female characters and their experience are more developed and are given much more attention than that of the men. Now as a male reader, that can become quite a bore after a while, and be seen as rather sexist. But heaven forbid that a man, use the word sexist in any case. However the discovery of the three above authors – Alice Munro, Amy Hempel, and Patricia Highsmith; will be of course great authors of the short story fiction.
Well Gentle Reader here is hoping that this blog experiment goes well. Here is hoping that all the stories are enjoyable. That the success of it, brings in more short story collections from authors from different time periods, different spectrums, different viewpoints, different status as authors, and brings them all together in their love for literature, and hopefully the mastery of the short form. But most importantly, the experience is most important for you Dear Gentle Reader. Hopefully you enjoy reading these reviews of the short stories that are reviewed. Maybe they will prompt you to buy them from your local book store, or down load them on to your kindle or e-reader or electronic book (thing). I personally am excited to see how this turns out. For tomorrow the first of the reviews begin!
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally Thievery and Wrong*
Wednesday, 27 April 2011
Thursday, 21 April 2011
The Glass Cell
Hello Gentle Reader
Patricia Highsmith the granddame of the psychological thriller wrote the novel that I have just finished called “The Glass Cell.” Patricia Highsmith never gained any real recognition or real readership in her life time, in her homeland or native country of the Unite States of America. Partly because this author did not write thriller fiction, to show how justice prevails. In fact, Patricia Highsmith broke all the rules of the suspense fiction in genre of books. In fact here was an author who said:
“I find the public passion for justice quite boring and artificial.” – Patricia Highsmith
Patricia Highsmith did not look around the world, and see crime being done, then justice being served. Patricia Highsmith saw crime being committed, and a good portion of the criminals getting away with their slimy deeds. She even saw some of the people, committing the crimes where really those that were part of the supposed “justice,” system. The world was terribly flawed to Patricia Highsmith. A place of such flaws, and human indecencies that it was hard for anyone to live in the world without some form of mental damage to be have been done to anyone. Patricia Highsmith herself even lived with the ideal thought of murder. Her father abandoned her, and her mother before Patricia Highsmith was born. She utterly hated her stepfather Stanley, and she had a very (to put it lightly) relationship with her mother Mary Highsmith – a relationship that Patricia could never quite sever entirely and yet hated keeping.
Patricia Highsmith is a complicated psychological character, much like her characters in her stories and books – or that is what I presume. She was an entirely original writer in the twentieth century for her prose that scoffed at the idea of justice, and found the entire idea of being passionate about the justice system artificial and a complete bore. Her murderous anti-hero or criminal-hero Tom Ripley (“The Talented Mr. Ripley,” and the other books in the “Ripliad.”) got away with all his crimes, and showed just how much crime paid. For Patricia Highsmith the world really was built on the foundation of crime. So and so stole or legally swindled the land from the other so and so; John’s wife has been having an affair with Mr. Jones, and so on. All this was natural and quite normal to Patricia Highsmith.
Graham Greene (an author I don’t plan on reading for his over catholic zealotry quite boring and trite) had even described this underrated and horrifying author as a:
"Writer who has created a world of her own - a world claustrophobic and irrational which we enter each time with a sense of personal danger." – Graham Greene.
Mr. Greene was not far off either. The world was full of dangers. Children could murder their parents, by leaving a roller skate decisively hidden at the top of the stairs and the unknowing victim could fall down the stairs and break his or her neck. Husbands could discover that their wives are having an affair and one night in a fit of rage, just murderer the lover of the wife.
Patricia Highsmith though not as popular in her homeland of the United States o America, was immensely popular in her soon adopted homeland of Europe. The very place she died was also in Europe. To be exact Locarno Switzerland. Exact details are something that Patricia Highsmith’s novel “The Glass Cell,” can be riddled with at times, and at other times lacking.
“The Glass Cell,” is a character study of a man sent to prison. Presumably innocent. And for all we know Phillip Carter may be innocent. In fact for the purpose of this blog we’ll take the assumption that Phillip Carter is innocent – but incredibly naïve, which explains how he got into his present predicament of six years of prison. When we first meet Mr. Philip Carter, he is in prison. We are given a very faint backstory of how he got into his present predicament. Something to do with a fraud, which our main character Phillip Carter, is blamed for. The trail follows after the blame is pinned on him, and then Philip Carter is sent to jail.
Ms. Highsmith wastes no time in showing the very dark and disgusting nature of human beings, and their deficiencies and the abuse of power that people, often show when placed in a position of considerable power. Right away Philip Carter, is doing a simple task. His cell mate a man by the name of “Hanky,” who we know is on quite good terms with the prison guards. Philip Carter and Hanky do not have the best of relationships that one would have in prison. Philip Carter, at first we find out has great faith in the justice system. He expects that after a few days (if memory serves correct ninety days) that he will get his retrial, and soon be leaving the state penitentiary and the real convicts like “Hanky,” behind. If only Carter were to be so lucky.
Carter is denied retrial. His lawyer and friend David Sullivan and his wife Hazel have yet to give up hope however. Hazel hires another lawyer – a criminal lawyer; who I seem to have forgotten the name of (apparently he did not have much of a big part in this book – upon quick scanning of the book the lawyers name is M agran) and decides to help Carter help, him to ask the Supreme Court for help on his wrongly justified case.
But before even all that happens, Carter experiences, a painful lesson in Prison, in the first chapter. He is strung up in the prison in the “hole,” by his thumbs – for forty eight hours. Every time he comes close to passing out, the sadistic guards laugh and jeer at his pain, and throw cold water on him to keep him awake. This is just the first step into the metamorphosis that Carter will undergo. His thumbs are out of their joints, and are forever swollen and enlarge. There is nothing that the prison doctor – Doctor Cassini; can do expect administer morphine for the pain, for Carters thumbs. So begins another step in Carters metamorphosis and so degradation into becoming just like the other prisoners and convicts that he once thought he was not one of them.
The novel then continues. Things start to look up for Carter, now that he works in the medical wing of the state penitentiary. He has access to morphine now on a constant basis – it is not only hinted by quite openly stated that Doctor Cassini is also a morphine addict. Though Carter did try to get off the “dope,” once but failed. Carter starts to read more often, he also starts to take judo lessons from another inmate by the name of Alex, but his grossly large thumbs hinder him from doing a lot of throws and tosses and joint holds.
It should be stated that in all of Patricia Highsmith’s works there are homosexual undertones. Those undertones however did get to be openly stated in one of Patricia Highsmith’s other novels “The Price of Salt,” – which she wrote under the pseudonym of Claire Morgan. “The Price of Salt,” was once again (in Patricia Highsmith fashion) quite original and broke the rules of Lesbian fiction, for its happy ending. Patricia Highsmith herself was also a lesbian. However according to research Patricia Highsmith’s posthumous novel “Small g: a Summer Idyll,” also dealt directly with themes of homosexuality.
This can also plainly be seen in the novel “The Glass Cell,” Carter meets another inmate by the name of Max – Max Samson I think. He’s a man who speaks French, and this what first gets the two inmates together. Max and Carter both speak French, and for twenty-five minutes a day they meet, and speak to each other. Hazel Carter’s wife is ironically resentful of this new friend that Carter has. Carter is also quite suspicious of the relationship that David Sullivan and Hazel have.
When Carter is denied a second time for a request by the Supreme Court, he immediately tells his friend Max about this. Carter even openly shows his emotions about this and weeps in front of Max. Max does push his shoulder on Max’s bed, and tells him to lie down or get some rest. One of the two. This act of homosexual tension is what is known in Patricia Highsmith’s work, but other than the words exchanged, and the gesture exchanged, no feelings or actions were made upon the two.
The last part of Carter’s prison metamorphosis is when a prison riot happens, and for three days the prisoners, take hold of the state penitentiary for three days. Max is killed in this ensuring riot. Before that, Max and his cellmate a large “Negro,” as described, are given another cell mate by the name of “Squib,” or something like that (I do confess the names are so abnormal for the most part that I have a bit of trouble remembering the names.) who has made it clear that he dislikes Max and Carter. Carter suspects the new cell mate was the one that killed Max. Upon finding Max’s dead body, lifeless, and covered in blood, Carter loses control and kills another man while in prison. Eventually things fall into natural order for Carter once again. Max is gone – his salvation had easily come and had easily gone.
Weaning himself off of morphine, and soon released from prison Carter is now forced to come to terms with the concept that faces his life now: “what now?” – he goes home, his son is cold and distant to him – though that is to be suspected; finding a job becomes difficult though they are well off (Carter is an engineer); and the suspicions of David Sullivan and Hazel having an affair while Carter was in the “clink,” becomes ever present on the mind the new Carter. A man, who pops pills, craves morphine and lost weight and has a general cold demeanour to him.
Though Patricia Highsmith was a lesbian herself, she experienced emotions in a rather two spectrum of extremes. As much as she loved woman, she could only handle them for such periods of times; that were considerably short. It is no wonder that woman are often presented in vicious and not so positive and flattering light in her works of fiction.
We learn that Hazel has been having an affair with David Sullivan. At first she claims it was for three or four weeks. It becomes apparent that she lied. When David Sullivan is confronted he only gives the same speech that Hazel gave. Carter learns that Hazel and David Sullivan have been having an affair (possibly) before he was incarcerated, and definitely after his release, that continued on.
Carter is a man who has just got out of prison. The world is a bit strange and alien to him. His wife has been sleeping another man. He’s suffering from a morphine addiction – a disease that lurks around the edges of his psyche like a shark on the prowls by shallow water; his son is more fond of David Sullivan then he is of his own father (Carter); and to top it all off, when Hazel was confronted by the fact that Carter knew she was having an intimate affair with David Sullivan, and when asked if she was going to stop – all she could do is reply with a “I don’t know.”
Things really change for Carter however when the affair business gets to him after a while, and he commits his second act of murder on David Sullivan. David Sullivan however has helped Carter find a job, seems to have taken care of his household, and wife. Yet in some ways or another there is such bent up anger towards David Sullivan that Carter just cannot control himself and kills him. So begins the classic Highsmith game of cat and mouse, and the showing that not all criminals really do pay – and sometimes the innocent and naïve do pay, and become the criminals themselves.
There are a few things that I would change about this personally. I would make it longer. Part of me cannot help but wonder, what kind of book Patricia Highsmith could have created if she wrote a bit more on it. If she would have shown the reader the life of Philip Carter beforehand, then the jail then his release. It would have been a lot more interesting in my opinion, to see the complete change and control of the character, from naivety to incarceration, to his sudden and slow pit fall into the depths of depression, drug abuse, and murder.
The other thing that I find personally is that, some of the book just look like a bunch of coincidental events, all smashed and placed together in the chapters, and the paragraphs. It was hard to decipher personally what day it was (Sundays were the easiest because that is when Hazel would visit) what month, season, et cetera – this in my own personal opinion would help make the novel kind of come along, as the reader counts the days off, the holidays and the seasons along with Carter. Some slight deeper characterizations would not hurt either.
Patricia Highsmith wrote an interesting psychological thriller with “The Glass Cell.” Even though it was published back in ninety-sixty four, the concept and its plot, and the dark metamorphosis of an innocent man into a cold shell of someone else, is still something that people, I think are interested in to this day but also fear.
Michael Dirda a critic had observed that: Europeans honoured her as a psychological novelist, part of an existentialist tradition represented by her own favourite writers, in particular Dostoevsky, Conrad, Kafka, Gide, and Camus."
Which to me is true. Patricia Highsmith was a psychological novelist and thriller writer. She was more than interested in psychology, and enjoyed filling her stories with murder and death. She probed the dark abscess of the world around us. She went deep into the minds of her characters, no matter how dark. Wherever she went she saw murder, and murderous events just waiting around the corner – from preschools to suburbia to the city; murder was lurking in the corners of everyone’s mind. Her novel “The Glass Cell,” is an expert example of her psychological study skills rather than her thriller skills really. She trains her microscope to watch the slow unfolding of the metamorphosis of a very dark and mutated moth.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Reader
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and wrong.*
M. Mary
Patricia Highsmith the granddame of the psychological thriller wrote the novel that I have just finished called “The Glass Cell.” Patricia Highsmith never gained any real recognition or real readership in her life time, in her homeland or native country of the Unite States of America. Partly because this author did not write thriller fiction, to show how justice prevails. In fact, Patricia Highsmith broke all the rules of the suspense fiction in genre of books. In fact here was an author who said:
“I find the public passion for justice quite boring and artificial.” – Patricia Highsmith
Patricia Highsmith did not look around the world, and see crime being done, then justice being served. Patricia Highsmith saw crime being committed, and a good portion of the criminals getting away with their slimy deeds. She even saw some of the people, committing the crimes where really those that were part of the supposed “justice,” system. The world was terribly flawed to Patricia Highsmith. A place of such flaws, and human indecencies that it was hard for anyone to live in the world without some form of mental damage to be have been done to anyone. Patricia Highsmith herself even lived with the ideal thought of murder. Her father abandoned her, and her mother before Patricia Highsmith was born. She utterly hated her stepfather Stanley, and she had a very (to put it lightly) relationship with her mother Mary Highsmith – a relationship that Patricia could never quite sever entirely and yet hated keeping.
Patricia Highsmith is a complicated psychological character, much like her characters in her stories and books – or that is what I presume. She was an entirely original writer in the twentieth century for her prose that scoffed at the idea of justice, and found the entire idea of being passionate about the justice system artificial and a complete bore. Her murderous anti-hero or criminal-hero Tom Ripley (“The Talented Mr. Ripley,” and the other books in the “Ripliad.”) got away with all his crimes, and showed just how much crime paid. For Patricia Highsmith the world really was built on the foundation of crime. So and so stole or legally swindled the land from the other so and so; John’s wife has been having an affair with Mr. Jones, and so on. All this was natural and quite normal to Patricia Highsmith.
Graham Greene (an author I don’t plan on reading for his over catholic zealotry quite boring and trite) had even described this underrated and horrifying author as a:
"Writer who has created a world of her own - a world claustrophobic and irrational which we enter each time with a sense of personal danger." – Graham Greene.
Mr. Greene was not far off either. The world was full of dangers. Children could murder their parents, by leaving a roller skate decisively hidden at the top of the stairs and the unknowing victim could fall down the stairs and break his or her neck. Husbands could discover that their wives are having an affair and one night in a fit of rage, just murderer the lover of the wife.
Patricia Highsmith though not as popular in her homeland of the United States o America, was immensely popular in her soon adopted homeland of Europe. The very place she died was also in Europe. To be exact Locarno Switzerland. Exact details are something that Patricia Highsmith’s novel “The Glass Cell,” can be riddled with at times, and at other times lacking.
“The Glass Cell,” is a character study of a man sent to prison. Presumably innocent. And for all we know Phillip Carter may be innocent. In fact for the purpose of this blog we’ll take the assumption that Phillip Carter is innocent – but incredibly naïve, which explains how he got into his present predicament of six years of prison. When we first meet Mr. Philip Carter, he is in prison. We are given a very faint backstory of how he got into his present predicament. Something to do with a fraud, which our main character Phillip Carter, is blamed for. The trail follows after the blame is pinned on him, and then Philip Carter is sent to jail.
Ms. Highsmith wastes no time in showing the very dark and disgusting nature of human beings, and their deficiencies and the abuse of power that people, often show when placed in a position of considerable power. Right away Philip Carter, is doing a simple task. His cell mate a man by the name of “Hanky,” who we know is on quite good terms with the prison guards. Philip Carter and Hanky do not have the best of relationships that one would have in prison. Philip Carter, at first we find out has great faith in the justice system. He expects that after a few days (if memory serves correct ninety days) that he will get his retrial, and soon be leaving the state penitentiary and the real convicts like “Hanky,” behind. If only Carter were to be so lucky.
Carter is denied retrial. His lawyer and friend David Sullivan and his wife Hazel have yet to give up hope however. Hazel hires another lawyer – a criminal lawyer; who I seem to have forgotten the name of (apparently he did not have much of a big part in this book – upon quick scanning of the book the lawyers name is M agran) and decides to help Carter help, him to ask the Supreme Court for help on his wrongly justified case.
But before even all that happens, Carter experiences, a painful lesson in Prison, in the first chapter. He is strung up in the prison in the “hole,” by his thumbs – for forty eight hours. Every time he comes close to passing out, the sadistic guards laugh and jeer at his pain, and throw cold water on him to keep him awake. This is just the first step into the metamorphosis that Carter will undergo. His thumbs are out of their joints, and are forever swollen and enlarge. There is nothing that the prison doctor – Doctor Cassini; can do expect administer morphine for the pain, for Carters thumbs. So begins another step in Carters metamorphosis and so degradation into becoming just like the other prisoners and convicts that he once thought he was not one of them.
The novel then continues. Things start to look up for Carter, now that he works in the medical wing of the state penitentiary. He has access to morphine now on a constant basis – it is not only hinted by quite openly stated that Doctor Cassini is also a morphine addict. Though Carter did try to get off the “dope,” once but failed. Carter starts to read more often, he also starts to take judo lessons from another inmate by the name of Alex, but his grossly large thumbs hinder him from doing a lot of throws and tosses and joint holds.
It should be stated that in all of Patricia Highsmith’s works there are homosexual undertones. Those undertones however did get to be openly stated in one of Patricia Highsmith’s other novels “The Price of Salt,” – which she wrote under the pseudonym of Claire Morgan. “The Price of Salt,” was once again (in Patricia Highsmith fashion) quite original and broke the rules of Lesbian fiction, for its happy ending. Patricia Highsmith herself was also a lesbian. However according to research Patricia Highsmith’s posthumous novel “Small g: a Summer Idyll,” also dealt directly with themes of homosexuality.
This can also plainly be seen in the novel “The Glass Cell,” Carter meets another inmate by the name of Max – Max Samson I think. He’s a man who speaks French, and this what first gets the two inmates together. Max and Carter both speak French, and for twenty-five minutes a day they meet, and speak to each other. Hazel Carter’s wife is ironically resentful of this new friend that Carter has. Carter is also quite suspicious of the relationship that David Sullivan and Hazel have.
When Carter is denied a second time for a request by the Supreme Court, he immediately tells his friend Max about this. Carter even openly shows his emotions about this and weeps in front of Max. Max does push his shoulder on Max’s bed, and tells him to lie down or get some rest. One of the two. This act of homosexual tension is what is known in Patricia Highsmith’s work, but other than the words exchanged, and the gesture exchanged, no feelings or actions were made upon the two.
The last part of Carter’s prison metamorphosis is when a prison riot happens, and for three days the prisoners, take hold of the state penitentiary for three days. Max is killed in this ensuring riot. Before that, Max and his cellmate a large “Negro,” as described, are given another cell mate by the name of “Squib,” or something like that (I do confess the names are so abnormal for the most part that I have a bit of trouble remembering the names.) who has made it clear that he dislikes Max and Carter. Carter suspects the new cell mate was the one that killed Max. Upon finding Max’s dead body, lifeless, and covered in blood, Carter loses control and kills another man while in prison. Eventually things fall into natural order for Carter once again. Max is gone – his salvation had easily come and had easily gone.
Weaning himself off of morphine, and soon released from prison Carter is now forced to come to terms with the concept that faces his life now: “what now?” – he goes home, his son is cold and distant to him – though that is to be suspected; finding a job becomes difficult though they are well off (Carter is an engineer); and the suspicions of David Sullivan and Hazel having an affair while Carter was in the “clink,” becomes ever present on the mind the new Carter. A man, who pops pills, craves morphine and lost weight and has a general cold demeanour to him.
Though Patricia Highsmith was a lesbian herself, she experienced emotions in a rather two spectrum of extremes. As much as she loved woman, she could only handle them for such periods of times; that were considerably short. It is no wonder that woman are often presented in vicious and not so positive and flattering light in her works of fiction.
We learn that Hazel has been having an affair with David Sullivan. At first she claims it was for three or four weeks. It becomes apparent that she lied. When David Sullivan is confronted he only gives the same speech that Hazel gave. Carter learns that Hazel and David Sullivan have been having an affair (possibly) before he was incarcerated, and definitely after his release, that continued on.
Carter is a man who has just got out of prison. The world is a bit strange and alien to him. His wife has been sleeping another man. He’s suffering from a morphine addiction – a disease that lurks around the edges of his psyche like a shark on the prowls by shallow water; his son is more fond of David Sullivan then he is of his own father (Carter); and to top it all off, when Hazel was confronted by the fact that Carter knew she was having an intimate affair with David Sullivan, and when asked if she was going to stop – all she could do is reply with a “I don’t know.”
Things really change for Carter however when the affair business gets to him after a while, and he commits his second act of murder on David Sullivan. David Sullivan however has helped Carter find a job, seems to have taken care of his household, and wife. Yet in some ways or another there is such bent up anger towards David Sullivan that Carter just cannot control himself and kills him. So begins the classic Highsmith game of cat and mouse, and the showing that not all criminals really do pay – and sometimes the innocent and naïve do pay, and become the criminals themselves.
There are a few things that I would change about this personally. I would make it longer. Part of me cannot help but wonder, what kind of book Patricia Highsmith could have created if she wrote a bit more on it. If she would have shown the reader the life of Philip Carter beforehand, then the jail then his release. It would have been a lot more interesting in my opinion, to see the complete change and control of the character, from naivety to incarceration, to his sudden and slow pit fall into the depths of depression, drug abuse, and murder.
The other thing that I find personally is that, some of the book just look like a bunch of coincidental events, all smashed and placed together in the chapters, and the paragraphs. It was hard to decipher personally what day it was (Sundays were the easiest because that is when Hazel would visit) what month, season, et cetera – this in my own personal opinion would help make the novel kind of come along, as the reader counts the days off, the holidays and the seasons along with Carter. Some slight deeper characterizations would not hurt either.
Patricia Highsmith wrote an interesting psychological thriller with “The Glass Cell.” Even though it was published back in ninety-sixty four, the concept and its plot, and the dark metamorphosis of an innocent man into a cold shell of someone else, is still something that people, I think are interested in to this day but also fear.
Michael Dirda a critic had observed that: Europeans honoured her as a psychological novelist, part of an existentialist tradition represented by her own favourite writers, in particular Dostoevsky, Conrad, Kafka, Gide, and Camus."
Which to me is true. Patricia Highsmith was a psychological novelist and thriller writer. She was more than interested in psychology, and enjoyed filling her stories with murder and death. She probed the dark abscess of the world around us. She went deep into the minds of her characters, no matter how dark. Wherever she went she saw murder, and murderous events just waiting around the corner – from preschools to suburbia to the city; murder was lurking in the corners of everyone’s mind. Her novel “The Glass Cell,” is an expert example of her psychological study skills rather than her thriller skills really. She trains her microscope to watch the slow unfolding of the metamorphosis of a very dark and mutated moth.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Reader
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and wrong.*
M. Mary
Friday, 15 April 2011
April is The Cruelst Month and Gates of Hell
Hello Gentle Reader
My apologies for not blogging yesterday. I had nothing really to blog about, so I had decided not to blog at all. When there is nothing to write then there is no need to make something up. Who really would want to hear the very mundane, the very uninteresting, the very personal, and pathetic details of a mundane nobodies life? Personally I would not. I mean what is one such as myself supposed to say, like a day like yesterday. Am I supposed to report, how many items of food I had consumed? How many times I had to use the lavatory? My observations on the weather? My study on my animals behaviours? Tell quirky stories of no real literary merit? Talk about my people watching and the thoughts that I had about other people? – Quite frankly I find all that to be quite a bore really, and would rather not talk about any of those things, because well I either did not do one of those things, or do not record them. However, I do have something to write about in the early hours of Friday morning. Why am I up so late? Who can say, all I know is I will most likely be up early the next day regardless of if I want to be or not. That’s a fact of life – or at least a fact of my life.
I watched an interesting program on the television. Believe it or not; as much as I spew hatred and nasty comments at the junk that people watch on television these days, I do still watch some television, though I much prefer to read or watch a movie, or better yet sleep (that’s right I don’t live much of a life!). Nonetheless tonight on the history channel, there was a documentary program about hell. The program was called “Gates of Hell,” fitting I know. It’s more or less about six locations on earth that are believed and rumoured to be portals or gates into the very vast, dismal, abyss like space or void, where torment, torture, suffering, and the most grisly kind of pain is experienced. I decided that I would write a blog about what I thought not about the program, but rather what I thought about the entire concept of “hell,” or “hades,” or “the underworld,” or “the afterlife,” and so and so forth. I have decided to turn my cynical eye and vicious tongue to this paranormal phenomenon and cultural icon, and to give my own opinion on it.
First and foremost, seeing as every culture, every religion, every civilization had a different name or title for the (parallel) world called “Hell,” you’ll noticed that their maybe a single letter in italics in brackets such as (G) Underworld – that means Greek Underworld – as in the Greek’s view of the world of the underworld; or (E) Afterlife – this means Egyptian Afterlife. This will help differentiate the different views and different interpretations and perceptions of the idea and the supposed existing “world,” of hell.
Even in today’s modern world – a world of technological advances, medical development, scientific progressions, general life upgrading; anyone would be surprised to learn that in today’s day and age, that mythology and faith are still quite evident in daily life; that is with some people. There has always been a need or desire for human beings – who are sentient beings; to have a reason to life or to have something to look forward to after life is over and death begins; that is to say if death begins at all. The idea that the suffering of life and the desire to do good deeds has always prompted people to make sure that there is something to look forward to after life itself. There must be a reason that good people suffer alongside the wicked and the evil. There must be a reason, why the terrible tyrants, the infidelity of heretics, the diabolical dictators, the crooked bankers, the slithery snakes of thieves (!) why is it they all get away with their crimes. So it is the human need and the human desire that there must be some form of retribution for the injustice of the world. If not what is the point of believing in doing the good and doing justice, and living a righteous and courteous way of living? If crime is what really is going to make life’s most material needs be met, then wouldn’t everyone be committing some act of crime? Would the streets not be running red with the foul smell of murder lingering in the air over past transgressions? Would the houses not be filled with people hoarding and greedily holding on to their treasures from others, and the people they once considered “friends,” – even family? Would there no longer be food for all to eat, only those with the money – or the very strong willed form of persuasion that just happens to involve violence? My thoughts of this matter would be yes.
Yet people need the idea – even if it is utopian and so overly rose coloured with optimism; that the wicked people of the world will pay for their transgressions. The good will repent, they will be given rewards (72 virgins being one of the perks as someone happened to state), they will live in an eternity of happiness, peace and good fortune. While the real people who lived impure and infidel lives, will suffer and they will burn in the eternities of hell and will forever pay for their sins, and all that they have to answer for.
This idea is not new by any means. In ancient times, a civilization really cannot thrive without law. Law is necessary. Law is what keeps everyone and everything intact. The law is what makes sure that everyone is doing their part at making life an respectable place. However what point is it in having a law if there is no real punishments for the crimes done. But the earthly crime’s and punishment’s is just one thing is it not? Why not scare people (and children) into the absolute good behaviour (and if they mess up then they can repent and confess). This way they will forever fear of doing something really bad, for the sake of their eternal souls and the damnation it could bring.
In (G) Underworld for instance, there were many forms of how one would live the rest of their eternal life. In the pit of Tartarus – which originally housed or better put was the prison of the Titans (the Greek gods before the Olympian Gods); is now a place where the damned souls of the evil souls are damned. Erebus or the land of the dead is where everyday people (or neutral souls) are sent – there they are ruled over by Hades (the Olympian God of the Underworld). The Elysium Islands/Fields is where the truly heroic and vitreous people go. Reading this, there is a pretty easy set of a way to place it. In Greek mythology there are three levels (depending on which source, or website or book or what historians, classical literature and mythologists say) where the three (general) levels of human nature are split up: The virtuous/.heroic, the natural or common man, and the evil and dastardly people.
The (E) Afterlife is much the same way. The Ancient Egyptians had elaborate and complex views and beliefs in death – I have yet (personally) to hear a culture that does not have that same trait. Mummification, a term that is known quiet well. The pulp years come to my mind when I think of world mummification and Egypt. The idea of curses, searing hot sands brutal and barbaric sun, and a landscape so desolate and pointless, only fools would bother living there. Well not to mention cures of mummies, ancient tombs of booby traps, riches beyond one’s wildest dreams, and well preserved people that resemble beef jerky – or rather jerky in general.
(E) Afterlife originally thought of two life forces: the Ka and the Ba were part of every human being. Well the later (Ba) was actually thought to be only to belong to the pharaoh. However over time everyone learned that they had these two spiritual and religious soul(s) that would allow them to travel into the lush (E) Afterlife. Before that however (I mean before the aspect that everyone had the two requirements to enter that lush paradise and pastors of the land of the dead) people (the commoners) died they went into a bleak non-existent state – basically their life was meaningless, and their death was meaningless, and they were made simply to serve the pharaoh, until it was agreed upon that they all had the necessary souls to move into the (E) Afterlife. However in order for a common person to make it into the lush pastoral fields of the (E) Afterlife, they needed to pass a few tests. The famous test, as everyone knows it to be is, the test of the heart of the person being weighted to that of a feather of Ma’at (an Egyptian goddess of justice, order, law, morality/ethics et cetera) if the person’s heart was heavier than the feather, the demon/deity Ammit consumes the heart and the persons soul becomes restless forever.
What do these two ancient cultures and their beliefs in death, the soul, and heaven and hell have to do with modern times? Simple they are the general view that all cultures and religions, ancient and modern, all have views on death and the eternal salvation and damnation of the souls. Part of it is the human desire and expectation to have justice served on those that deserve to rot in hell, and others deserve the eternal paradise that is promised to all. This however, is more or less uninteresting to me. People’s desire for justice I find personally is artificial and boring. Something of a complete bore, and a waste of my time. For I think personally, the desire for justice for many is a desire for legal vengeance, and retribution.
However the world even today is riddled with aspects of hell. In the book or poem or whatever it is Dantes: “Inferno,” or rather “The Divine Comedy,” is the depiction of hell. Dante Alighieri split hell up into nine circles or spheres. Those circles or spheres each corresponded to some form of sin or transgression. Circle one: Limbo (more or less a very soft place. Unbaptized and virtuous pagans. Basically these people didn’t accept god or Jesus Christ in their lives. God hates them, but instead of burning them and ripping them apart because they lived good lives, and pulling their intestines out of their anus’s God makes them stay in a world between heaven and hell.) The next circle is the second circle corresponding to: Lust (this place is where all the bad bitches and whores and concubines who are blown about to and fro in a violent storm). The Third Circle is: Gluttony (this is where the gluttonous pigs will forever be drenched in rain, stuck in mud and filth. A life consumed by sustenance and a need for it, and refusal to share with all Gods people pissed God off, so he decided to throw them into the third circle of hell.) The Fourth Circle’s sin is: Greed (These are the people that desired to achieve more out of life and enjoy that to themselves. These people are punished for wanting more or only the best out of life. They are bound face down. Apparently God does not appreciate ambition). The fifth circle; can you believe there are nine of these (?) is: Anger (here those that experience the natural feeling of anger, are condemned in the river of Styx – which should be noted is a river in the (G) Underworld – which is a boiling river of blood.) The sixth circle is for: Heretics (People who speak their minds are not welcome in heaven or paradise. They are destroyed encased in tombs of flames!)
The seventh ring (along with the following ones) is an interesting circle of hell from the looks of it. According to Dante the seventh circle is the circle of violence. However this circle of violence is split up into three rings. The first ring is for the circle of the violent against others and property. The second ring is the ring against those who have committed suicide (violent against themselves) – poor bastards are turned into thorny bushes and trees and are fed on by the Harpies (another bit of Greek mythology in their). The last ring is the ring against God or nature which for the purpose of this we shall say sodomy! Basically you have sex with the same sex, or oral sex, or sex with an animal, you are impure and boy oh boy is God really pissed off at you! The land is a scolding and sweltering desert, where one is forced to wander, sit, and roam – for eternity!
The eight circle is another interesting circle. Much like the seventh circle of violence the eighth circle of fraud is split into ten different rings. Instead of going into details will make a quick list.
The First Ring: pimps and seducers – these poor damned souls, are marched in two lines and whipped by demons.
The Second Ring: Flatters – These poor damned souls, are placed in human feces – Dante has resorted to toilet humour and he did so well!
The Third Ring: Simony – for those who do not know what simony is (I confess I didn’t) it is paying for a clerical or church position. These naughty people, are placed in holes in the ground and have flames placed on their soles of their feat.
The Fourth Ring: Deals with false prophets – these people have their heads twisted around, because they can’t look forwards towards God.
The Fifth Ring: This is a place for corrupt politicians – these deserving bastards, are placed in a pit of pitch or tar or something that is sticky and dark like their deals.
The Sixth Ring: Hypocrites – these people are the people who are forced in lead cloaks. Personally God should be amongst these people.
The Seventh Ring: Thieves – These criminals are chased and bitten by snakes and lizards.
The Eighth Ring: Is for those that give false advice or false counsellors. Not sure what this punishment is here. Obviously Dante is getting tired of writing this poem.
The Ninth Ring: Is for those that create discord – basically they are all chopped up and regenerate before being chopped up again.
The Tenth Ring: For the false people as in impersonators counterfeiters – these people are given every disease imaginable.
Finally once and for all we meet the final circle of hell. What could be so bad, that one would end up here? Apparently treachery. Personally myself I thought violence was a good one – at least in the murder sense; but God disagrees – or rather Dante does. It appears that in this circle of hell which is split up into four more rings which are split into: treachery of kindred; traits of political reasons; traitors to their guests; and traitors to their lords. It is here that all the traitors are locked in ice not fire, but ice – but that is according to Dante’s “Divine Comedy.” Which I don’t find Divine or really all that funny – but ironic that a loving god would create evil, and a free will, and throw people he created into the dark world below.
My opinion on the abstract belief in hell is quite simple. Hell has been around for years, as long as people have been around, the desire and need to have something to believe in after we die, to reward us for our righteous and often painful lives, is what we hope for. While we also hope for those that live unrighteous lives, will be punished. That is all that hell is. It is the artificial need and desire for people, to have justice both in life and in death. As I had stated personally I find this desire for justice quite boring and utopian and wishful thinking. But some people really need it to pacify them, and to make their lives have some form of meaning, rather than accepting the inevitable fact that there is no meaning to life – well at least no divine one. However people can always create some form of meaning to their lives. But others choose to have some other meaning to life. A sense that it cannot be happening that death truly is the period to the run on sentence to life or the last chapter the novel of a life. How cliché of me to say. Seeing a this blog was all about civilizations (or mankind’s civilizations) obsession with death, justice, hell, morality, and all that fun stuff, I thought the following quote from the poem “The Wasteland,” by T.S. Elliot was fitting for not only this Blog but this month:
“April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.”
T. S. Elliot Nobel Prize Laureate in Literature 1948, poem “The Wasteland,”
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Reader
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and wrong.*
M. Mary
My apologies for not blogging yesterday. I had nothing really to blog about, so I had decided not to blog at all. When there is nothing to write then there is no need to make something up. Who really would want to hear the very mundane, the very uninteresting, the very personal, and pathetic details of a mundane nobodies life? Personally I would not. I mean what is one such as myself supposed to say, like a day like yesterday. Am I supposed to report, how many items of food I had consumed? How many times I had to use the lavatory? My observations on the weather? My study on my animals behaviours? Tell quirky stories of no real literary merit? Talk about my people watching and the thoughts that I had about other people? – Quite frankly I find all that to be quite a bore really, and would rather not talk about any of those things, because well I either did not do one of those things, or do not record them. However, I do have something to write about in the early hours of Friday morning. Why am I up so late? Who can say, all I know is I will most likely be up early the next day regardless of if I want to be or not. That’s a fact of life – or at least a fact of my life.
I watched an interesting program on the television. Believe it or not; as much as I spew hatred and nasty comments at the junk that people watch on television these days, I do still watch some television, though I much prefer to read or watch a movie, or better yet sleep (that’s right I don’t live much of a life!). Nonetheless tonight on the history channel, there was a documentary program about hell. The program was called “Gates of Hell,” fitting I know. It’s more or less about six locations on earth that are believed and rumoured to be portals or gates into the very vast, dismal, abyss like space or void, where torment, torture, suffering, and the most grisly kind of pain is experienced. I decided that I would write a blog about what I thought not about the program, but rather what I thought about the entire concept of “hell,” or “hades,” or “the underworld,” or “the afterlife,” and so and so forth. I have decided to turn my cynical eye and vicious tongue to this paranormal phenomenon and cultural icon, and to give my own opinion on it.
First and foremost, seeing as every culture, every religion, every civilization had a different name or title for the (parallel) world called “Hell,” you’ll noticed that their maybe a single letter in italics in brackets such as (G) Underworld – that means Greek Underworld – as in the Greek’s view of the world of the underworld; or (E) Afterlife – this means Egyptian Afterlife. This will help differentiate the different views and different interpretations and perceptions of the idea and the supposed existing “world,” of hell.
Even in today’s modern world – a world of technological advances, medical development, scientific progressions, general life upgrading; anyone would be surprised to learn that in today’s day and age, that mythology and faith are still quite evident in daily life; that is with some people. There has always been a need or desire for human beings – who are sentient beings; to have a reason to life or to have something to look forward to after life is over and death begins; that is to say if death begins at all. The idea that the suffering of life and the desire to do good deeds has always prompted people to make sure that there is something to look forward to after life itself. There must be a reason that good people suffer alongside the wicked and the evil. There must be a reason, why the terrible tyrants, the infidelity of heretics, the diabolical dictators, the crooked bankers, the slithery snakes of thieves (!) why is it they all get away with their crimes. So it is the human need and the human desire that there must be some form of retribution for the injustice of the world. If not what is the point of believing in doing the good and doing justice, and living a righteous and courteous way of living? If crime is what really is going to make life’s most material needs be met, then wouldn’t everyone be committing some act of crime? Would the streets not be running red with the foul smell of murder lingering in the air over past transgressions? Would the houses not be filled with people hoarding and greedily holding on to their treasures from others, and the people they once considered “friends,” – even family? Would there no longer be food for all to eat, only those with the money – or the very strong willed form of persuasion that just happens to involve violence? My thoughts of this matter would be yes.
Yet people need the idea – even if it is utopian and so overly rose coloured with optimism; that the wicked people of the world will pay for their transgressions. The good will repent, they will be given rewards (72 virgins being one of the perks as someone happened to state), they will live in an eternity of happiness, peace and good fortune. While the real people who lived impure and infidel lives, will suffer and they will burn in the eternities of hell and will forever pay for their sins, and all that they have to answer for.
This idea is not new by any means. In ancient times, a civilization really cannot thrive without law. Law is necessary. Law is what keeps everyone and everything intact. The law is what makes sure that everyone is doing their part at making life an respectable place. However what point is it in having a law if there is no real punishments for the crimes done. But the earthly crime’s and punishment’s is just one thing is it not? Why not scare people (and children) into the absolute good behaviour (and if they mess up then they can repent and confess). This way they will forever fear of doing something really bad, for the sake of their eternal souls and the damnation it could bring.
In (G) Underworld for instance, there were many forms of how one would live the rest of their eternal life. In the pit of Tartarus – which originally housed or better put was the prison of the Titans (the Greek gods before the Olympian Gods); is now a place where the damned souls of the evil souls are damned. Erebus or the land of the dead is where everyday people (or neutral souls) are sent – there they are ruled over by Hades (the Olympian God of the Underworld). The Elysium Islands/Fields is where the truly heroic and vitreous people go. Reading this, there is a pretty easy set of a way to place it. In Greek mythology there are three levels (depending on which source, or website or book or what historians, classical literature and mythologists say) where the three (general) levels of human nature are split up: The virtuous/.heroic, the natural or common man, and the evil and dastardly people.
The (E) Afterlife is much the same way. The Ancient Egyptians had elaborate and complex views and beliefs in death – I have yet (personally) to hear a culture that does not have that same trait. Mummification, a term that is known quiet well. The pulp years come to my mind when I think of world mummification and Egypt. The idea of curses, searing hot sands brutal and barbaric sun, and a landscape so desolate and pointless, only fools would bother living there. Well not to mention cures of mummies, ancient tombs of booby traps, riches beyond one’s wildest dreams, and well preserved people that resemble beef jerky – or rather jerky in general.
(E) Afterlife originally thought of two life forces: the Ka and the Ba were part of every human being. Well the later (Ba) was actually thought to be only to belong to the pharaoh. However over time everyone learned that they had these two spiritual and religious soul(s) that would allow them to travel into the lush (E) Afterlife. Before that however (I mean before the aspect that everyone had the two requirements to enter that lush paradise and pastors of the land of the dead) people (the commoners) died they went into a bleak non-existent state – basically their life was meaningless, and their death was meaningless, and they were made simply to serve the pharaoh, until it was agreed upon that they all had the necessary souls to move into the (E) Afterlife. However in order for a common person to make it into the lush pastoral fields of the (E) Afterlife, they needed to pass a few tests. The famous test, as everyone knows it to be is, the test of the heart of the person being weighted to that of a feather of Ma’at (an Egyptian goddess of justice, order, law, morality/ethics et cetera) if the person’s heart was heavier than the feather, the demon/deity Ammit consumes the heart and the persons soul becomes restless forever.
What do these two ancient cultures and their beliefs in death, the soul, and heaven and hell have to do with modern times? Simple they are the general view that all cultures and religions, ancient and modern, all have views on death and the eternal salvation and damnation of the souls. Part of it is the human desire and expectation to have justice served on those that deserve to rot in hell, and others deserve the eternal paradise that is promised to all. This however, is more or less uninteresting to me. People’s desire for justice I find personally is artificial and boring. Something of a complete bore, and a waste of my time. For I think personally, the desire for justice for many is a desire for legal vengeance, and retribution.
However the world even today is riddled with aspects of hell. In the book or poem or whatever it is Dantes: “Inferno,” or rather “The Divine Comedy,” is the depiction of hell. Dante Alighieri split hell up into nine circles or spheres. Those circles or spheres each corresponded to some form of sin or transgression. Circle one: Limbo (more or less a very soft place. Unbaptized and virtuous pagans. Basically these people didn’t accept god or Jesus Christ in their lives. God hates them, but instead of burning them and ripping them apart because they lived good lives, and pulling their intestines out of their anus’s God makes them stay in a world between heaven and hell.) The next circle is the second circle corresponding to: Lust (this place is where all the bad bitches and whores and concubines who are blown about to and fro in a violent storm). The Third Circle is: Gluttony (this is where the gluttonous pigs will forever be drenched in rain, stuck in mud and filth. A life consumed by sustenance and a need for it, and refusal to share with all Gods people pissed God off, so he decided to throw them into the third circle of hell.) The Fourth Circle’s sin is: Greed (These are the people that desired to achieve more out of life and enjoy that to themselves. These people are punished for wanting more or only the best out of life. They are bound face down. Apparently God does not appreciate ambition). The fifth circle; can you believe there are nine of these (?) is: Anger (here those that experience the natural feeling of anger, are condemned in the river of Styx – which should be noted is a river in the (G) Underworld – which is a boiling river of blood.) The sixth circle is for: Heretics (People who speak their minds are not welcome in heaven or paradise. They are destroyed encased in tombs of flames!)
The seventh ring (along with the following ones) is an interesting circle of hell from the looks of it. According to Dante the seventh circle is the circle of violence. However this circle of violence is split up into three rings. The first ring is for the circle of the violent against others and property. The second ring is the ring against those who have committed suicide (violent against themselves) – poor bastards are turned into thorny bushes and trees and are fed on by the Harpies (another bit of Greek mythology in their). The last ring is the ring against God or nature which for the purpose of this we shall say sodomy! Basically you have sex with the same sex, or oral sex, or sex with an animal, you are impure and boy oh boy is God really pissed off at you! The land is a scolding and sweltering desert, where one is forced to wander, sit, and roam – for eternity!
The eight circle is another interesting circle. Much like the seventh circle of violence the eighth circle of fraud is split into ten different rings. Instead of going into details will make a quick list.
The First Ring: pimps and seducers – these poor damned souls, are marched in two lines and whipped by demons.
The Second Ring: Flatters – These poor damned souls, are placed in human feces – Dante has resorted to toilet humour and he did so well!
The Third Ring: Simony – for those who do not know what simony is (I confess I didn’t) it is paying for a clerical or church position. These naughty people, are placed in holes in the ground and have flames placed on their soles of their feat.
The Fourth Ring: Deals with false prophets – these people have their heads twisted around, because they can’t look forwards towards God.
The Fifth Ring: This is a place for corrupt politicians – these deserving bastards, are placed in a pit of pitch or tar or something that is sticky and dark like their deals.
The Sixth Ring: Hypocrites – these people are the people who are forced in lead cloaks. Personally God should be amongst these people.
The Seventh Ring: Thieves – These criminals are chased and bitten by snakes and lizards.
The Eighth Ring: Is for those that give false advice or false counsellors. Not sure what this punishment is here. Obviously Dante is getting tired of writing this poem.
The Ninth Ring: Is for those that create discord – basically they are all chopped up and regenerate before being chopped up again.
The Tenth Ring: For the false people as in impersonators counterfeiters – these people are given every disease imaginable.
Finally once and for all we meet the final circle of hell. What could be so bad, that one would end up here? Apparently treachery. Personally myself I thought violence was a good one – at least in the murder sense; but God disagrees – or rather Dante does. It appears that in this circle of hell which is split up into four more rings which are split into: treachery of kindred; traits of political reasons; traitors to their guests; and traitors to their lords. It is here that all the traitors are locked in ice not fire, but ice – but that is according to Dante’s “Divine Comedy.” Which I don’t find Divine or really all that funny – but ironic that a loving god would create evil, and a free will, and throw people he created into the dark world below.
My opinion on the abstract belief in hell is quite simple. Hell has been around for years, as long as people have been around, the desire and need to have something to believe in after we die, to reward us for our righteous and often painful lives, is what we hope for. While we also hope for those that live unrighteous lives, will be punished. That is all that hell is. It is the artificial need and desire for people, to have justice both in life and in death. As I had stated personally I find this desire for justice quite boring and utopian and wishful thinking. But some people really need it to pacify them, and to make their lives have some form of meaning, rather than accepting the inevitable fact that there is no meaning to life – well at least no divine one. However people can always create some form of meaning to their lives. But others choose to have some other meaning to life. A sense that it cannot be happening that death truly is the period to the run on sentence to life or the last chapter the novel of a life. How cliché of me to say. Seeing a this blog was all about civilizations (or mankind’s civilizations) obsession with death, justice, hell, morality, and all that fun stuff, I thought the following quote from the poem “The Wasteland,” by T.S. Elliot was fitting for not only this Blog but this month:
“April is the cruellest month, breeding
Lilacs out of the dead land, mixing
Memory and desire, stirring
Dull roots with spring rain.”
T. S. Elliot Nobel Prize Laureate in Literature 1948, poem “The Wasteland,”
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Reader
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and wrong.*
M. Mary
Monday, 4 April 2011
Mondays With Mr. K (No. IV)
Hello Gentle Reader
Time for another "Mondays With Mr. K," as it appears. I decided to do one early this April, because well I haven't finished reading a novel yet. I haven't finished reading "Palace of Desire," by Naguib Mahfouz, and I am slowly and surely getting my way through "The Talented Miss Highsmith," a biography about Patricia Highsmith. So I decided to give you another "Mondays With Mr. K," in order to make up for my lack of reading of late. However I have been able to jot down aproximetly one Short Short Story, a night/day. Which is a nice acopmplishment. Maybe some time I'll post some on here. But not today. Please Enjoy this week's "Monday With Mr. K," and have yourselfa lovely week, and a great weekend ahead of you.
_____________________________________
Mr. K was a person who loved quotes. When having tea, he would often tell stories of his times, through out his life. Sometimes they could be the simple story of him on a fishing trip, or another time, it could be him telling a person about a hike he took in the woods, or a day he bought a paticullarly odd item. However most of these tales came from a Mr. K making a mistake. Which he would say: "And this why I always say 'Experience is the name every one gives to their mistakes.'" One day however a rather well read and clever child heard, Mr. K say that when his parents were having tea with Mr. K, and happilly responded to Mr. K: "But Mr. K, I'm sure Oscar Wilde said that." The child's parents were quickly alarmed at what their boy had said, and quickly chided him and apologized on his behalf to Mr. K. Mr. K however smiled to the boy and responded: "You are a clever child. And you are right, Oscar Wilde did say that at one point. But now I say it."
Time for another "Mondays With Mr. K," as it appears. I decided to do one early this April, because well I haven't finished reading a novel yet. I haven't finished reading "Palace of Desire," by Naguib Mahfouz, and I am slowly and surely getting my way through "The Talented Miss Highsmith," a biography about Patricia Highsmith. So I decided to give you another "Mondays With Mr. K," in order to make up for my lack of reading of late. However I have been able to jot down aproximetly one Short Short Story, a night/day. Which is a nice acopmplishment. Maybe some time I'll post some on here. But not today. Please Enjoy this week's "Monday With Mr. K," and have yourselfa lovely week, and a great weekend ahead of you.
_____________________________________
Mr. K was a person who loved quotes. When having tea, he would often tell stories of his times, through out his life. Sometimes they could be the simple story of him on a fishing trip, or another time, it could be him telling a person about a hike he took in the woods, or a day he bought a paticullarly odd item. However most of these tales came from a Mr. K making a mistake. Which he would say: "And this why I always say 'Experience is the name every one gives to their mistakes.'" One day however a rather well read and clever child heard, Mr. K say that when his parents were having tea with Mr. K, and happilly responded to Mr. K: "But Mr. K, I'm sure Oscar Wilde said that." The child's parents were quickly alarmed at what their boy had said, and quickly chided him and apologized on his behalf to Mr. K. Mr. K however smiled to the boy and responded: "You are a clever child. And you are right, Oscar Wilde did say that at one point. But now I say it."
Monday, 28 March 2011
Monday's With Mr. K (No. III)
Hello Gentle Reader
March has been a more chaotic month of circumstances that keep just going wrong. However I have been able to maintain the goal and the promise to keep posting "Monday's With Mr. K," once a month. I know this is probably the latest of the three now published "items," but part of that is done mostly out of the circumstances that had befallen me in March. At least its being published on a Monday is all I can say.
Please enjoy Gentle Reader
____________________________________
Tea time was Mr. K's favourite part of the day. By this time of the day he had the most visitors. People would visit him at tea time, because they knew he would be home. The guest or guests would come up the small thin stair way knock on the door, wait and sure enough Mr. K would answer. He would welcome them all in with open arms, firm handshakes and smiles. The guest or guests would take their seat or seats, and wait as Mr. K brought out tea. It was always the same kind of tea though. Peppermint or just mint. "It is the kind I love, and not at all expensive." How he made this tea, though shocked every guest that visited him. It was made in such a way that even those that do not like mint or peppermint tea, found it enjoyable. Mr. K would always smile and say: "There's no real proper way to make tea. It’s always bitter. It’s just a matter of knowing what to throw in to make it more enjoyable." When guest would ask what he put in it, Mr. K would smile affectionately. "A person of knowledge always feels compelled to reveal that knowledge. However the magician, is a person who has knowledge, and he never reveals that knowledge. So in this I am a magician and I cannot reveal my ticks." The guest would nod as if approvingly, but also wondered what was put in the tea. While Mr. K smiled like a content cat -- just like the one or two or three or four but no more, sitting at the window sill lowly purring in the sun.
March has been a more chaotic month of circumstances that keep just going wrong. However I have been able to maintain the goal and the promise to keep posting "Monday's With Mr. K," once a month. I know this is probably the latest of the three now published "items," but part of that is done mostly out of the circumstances that had befallen me in March. At least its being published on a Monday is all I can say.
Please enjoy Gentle Reader
____________________________________
Tea time was Mr. K's favourite part of the day. By this time of the day he had the most visitors. People would visit him at tea time, because they knew he would be home. The guest or guests would come up the small thin stair way knock on the door, wait and sure enough Mr. K would answer. He would welcome them all in with open arms, firm handshakes and smiles. The guest or guests would take their seat or seats, and wait as Mr. K brought out tea. It was always the same kind of tea though. Peppermint or just mint. "It is the kind I love, and not at all expensive." How he made this tea, though shocked every guest that visited him. It was made in such a way that even those that do not like mint or peppermint tea, found it enjoyable. Mr. K would always smile and say: "There's no real proper way to make tea. It’s always bitter. It’s just a matter of knowing what to throw in to make it more enjoyable." When guest would ask what he put in it, Mr. K would smile affectionately. "A person of knowledge always feels compelled to reveal that knowledge. However the magician, is a person who has knowledge, and he never reveals that knowledge. So in this I am a magician and I cannot reveal my ticks." The guest would nod as if approvingly, but also wondered what was put in the tea. While Mr. K smiled like a content cat -- just like the one or two or three or four but no more, sitting at the window sill lowly purring in the sun.
Thursday, 24 March 2011
The Beggar
Hello Gentle Reader
Do to some unforeseen circumstances last week I was unable to post a blog. However I was able to maintain reading in order to post a blog this week, if circumstances permitted me to get back to a computer with internet in order to post this review of a short novel I had the interesting enjoyment of reading by Naguib Mahfouz Noble Prize Laureate of 1988. Many will recognize the name Naguib Mahfouz from an earlier review of his novel "Palace Walk," which is the first novel in a trilogy of novels which is respectfully called "The Cairo Trilogy." "The Cairo Trilogy," is perhaps Naguib Mahfouz's most famous work of literary output, however his lesser known works, are just as good, in their own ways.
"The Beggar," a novel that is both dour and sad, and it wasn't even written by other novelists noted for dour and sad novels, of nihilistic bent or in some cases existentialist bents such as Thomas Bernhard, Kenzaburo Oe, Yukio Mishima, Jean-Paul Sartre, Albert Camus, Elfride Jelinek, and the list can go on. However here is an interesting tid bit of information. "The Beggar," is a novel that deals with some rather existential themes, but Naguib Mahfouz himself, was also one of the first Arabic writers to deal with existential themes.
What does that mean? To me it sounds like Naguib Mahfouz was/is one of the first contemporary authors in Egypt and writers in the Arabic language, which dealt with more themes of the age. In the 20th century themes of Existentialism, Absurdism, and Nihilism were kind of at their peaks of thought. Jean-Paul Sartre was the head of the Existentialist movement, while another French writer and philosopher of the 20th century headed the Absurdist philosophy thought. Neither one of these two writers and philosophers necessarily came up with the ideas. Both of which may have brought the idea's to a greater attention, but both did not necessarily come up with philosophies in which they promoted. However during the 20th century these philosophies were gaining wide recognition and wide thought. Playwrights like Samuel Beckett (who was also a novelist and short story writer) and Eugene Ionesco proudly presented the absurdism of modern life. While Jean-Paul Sartre in his plays like "No Exit," ("Hell is other people.") "Nausea." or Patrick Süskind and his short novel "The Pigeon."
Naguib Mahfouz was born in the year 1911, perfect timing to grow up in a world where these philosophical ideas were taking hold. Would it come to a surprise to many that Naguib Mahfouz may have written about some of these idea's in his writing career that had enveloped seventy years of his ninety-four long life? To me no.
So all that dribble leads us to this short novel by Naguib Mahfouz called "The Beggar."
"The Beggar," if I could describe it really simple terms, is a short novel about the failure to find meaning in existence, and its consequences. Meet our main character Omar, who is suffering from a "illness." This illness we learn as the reader, is sucking the enjoyment from Omar's life. Yet Omar has everything. He has a family, friends, a successful career as a lawyer, and yet he finds no enjoyment or happiness in life. Omar goes to the doctor -- and why shouldn't he? He's a man who can afford a doctor, but also has sense enough to see that something is not "right with him," and so a consultation with a doctor wouldn't hurt. So the doctor tells Omar, that he needs to go on a diet, and gets some proper excerise, and hey a vacation wouldn't hurt right?
Unfortunately Omar, does all that his doctor had suggested, but still feels the meaningless void of life, sucking him dry slowly and surely. Seeing as the doctor was unable to help him, Omar, decides that he'll self-medicate. Through illicit love affairs which at first begin to ease the pain of his existince, he soon finds himself, once again in the same old place that he was only a short period before. Omar then returns home, to his wife who through this entire ordeal of Omar facing a existential crisis, has stayed by him -- a devoted wife or a foolish woman? Anyhow returning home, Omar finds himself suffocated and estranged from his family, and friends but they are also happy to see him to a degree, knowing he is safe and alright. Things get interesting when we an old friend and compatriot by the name of Othman Khalil re-enters the life of Omar, this is when we learn of Omar's political past. He was a poet (something that was spoke about in the beginning) but also a socialist in his younger years. However Othman went to jail for his socialist political ideologies, and Omar did not, and even though Othman was tortured (most likely brutally) he did not reveal that Omar was also one of them. One can now only imagine what Othman feels to see his friend, reduced to an empty shell of what he once was, and also his once strong socialist ideologies, gone with his former self.
The novel ends with Omar once again leaving his family. He moves out to the country side, and lives there. Now this part of the novel gets a bit confusing. Omar is now in a state of delirium and delusions. So what is being said in these states of oddities like a bouquet of flowers which are not flowers but the heads of his family and friends, that chase him, among other interesting dreams create for a bizarre ending. At first I must admit that I thought the translation had just gotten really poor, but after perseverance, and re-reading all is set straight.
The ending leaves one with a sense of hope that Omar is going to be alright going back to his life in Cairo, but that is a fine line. There is a sense of optimism there, but as the novel had shown us before, he once feel that great feeling before, and then it was lost on him in no time. Yet it depends how the reader wishes to see it. Is Omar's life finally going to be alright or will he simply spin out of control, again and again?
"The Beggar," felt like an interesting novel for me at this current moment. At the moment I feel like I myself am facing a difficult feelings of inadequacy and wondering if my life will ever have meaning or what will I do with my life. Though I don't have the luxuries that Omar himself had, a family, a stable roof, money et cetera, there was a feeling that even with the basic necessities of life met for him, it wasn't enough. There was something missing. And though at the moment I have some of these basic necessities of life, and yet still able to enjoy the wonders of reading, writing and blogging, there still feels like there is something missing. What am I going to do with my life? Why does my life feels so incomplete? Will I ever see my life fulfilled, and lived for myself? All these questions and ponderings are something I find myself going through over and over again. Part of me tells myself that Omar and myself are not the only people feelings the nihilistic void around our lives. Facing existential crisis, and watching the absurd march of everyday life. Naguib Mahfouz with his novel "The Beggar," has written a tale of the hopeless account and desperation of a man trying to find meaning in his life.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Reader
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and wrong.*
M. Mary
Do to some unforeseen circumstances last week I was unable to post a blog. However I was able to maintain reading in order to post a blog this week, if circumstances permitted me to get back to a computer with internet in order to post this review of a short novel I had the interesting enjoyment of reading by Naguib Mahfouz Noble Prize Laureate of 1988. Many will recognize the name Naguib Mahfouz from an earlier review of his novel "Palace Walk," which is the first novel in a trilogy of novels which is respectfully called "The Cairo Trilogy." "The Cairo Trilogy," is perhaps Naguib Mahfouz's most famous work of literary output, however his lesser known works, are just as good, in their own ways.
"The Beggar," a novel that is both dour and sad, and it wasn't even written by other novelists noted for dour and sad novels, of nihilistic bent or in some cases existentialist bents such as Thomas Bernhard, Kenzaburo Oe, Yukio Mishima, Jean-Paul Sartre, Albert Camus, Elfride Jelinek, and the list can go on. However here is an interesting tid bit of information. "The Beggar," is a novel that deals with some rather existential themes, but Naguib Mahfouz himself, was also one of the first Arabic writers to deal with existential themes.
What does that mean? To me it sounds like Naguib Mahfouz was/is one of the first contemporary authors in Egypt and writers in the Arabic language, which dealt with more themes of the age. In the 20th century themes of Existentialism, Absurdism, and Nihilism were kind of at their peaks of thought. Jean-Paul Sartre was the head of the Existentialist movement, while another French writer and philosopher of the 20th century headed the Absurdist philosophy thought. Neither one of these two writers and philosophers necessarily came up with the ideas. Both of which may have brought the idea's to a greater attention, but both did not necessarily come up with philosophies in which they promoted. However during the 20th century these philosophies were gaining wide recognition and wide thought. Playwrights like Samuel Beckett (who was also a novelist and short story writer) and Eugene Ionesco proudly presented the absurdism of modern life. While Jean-Paul Sartre in his plays like "No Exit," ("Hell is other people.") "Nausea." or Patrick Süskind and his short novel "The Pigeon."
Naguib Mahfouz was born in the year 1911, perfect timing to grow up in a world where these philosophical ideas were taking hold. Would it come to a surprise to many that Naguib Mahfouz may have written about some of these idea's in his writing career that had enveloped seventy years of his ninety-four long life? To me no.
So all that dribble leads us to this short novel by Naguib Mahfouz called "The Beggar."
"The Beggar," if I could describe it really simple terms, is a short novel about the failure to find meaning in existence, and its consequences. Meet our main character Omar, who is suffering from a "illness." This illness we learn as the reader, is sucking the enjoyment from Omar's life. Yet Omar has everything. He has a family, friends, a successful career as a lawyer, and yet he finds no enjoyment or happiness in life. Omar goes to the doctor -- and why shouldn't he? He's a man who can afford a doctor, but also has sense enough to see that something is not "right with him," and so a consultation with a doctor wouldn't hurt. So the doctor tells Omar, that he needs to go on a diet, and gets some proper excerise, and hey a vacation wouldn't hurt right?
Unfortunately Omar, does all that his doctor had suggested, but still feels the meaningless void of life, sucking him dry slowly and surely. Seeing as the doctor was unable to help him, Omar, decides that he'll self-medicate. Through illicit love affairs which at first begin to ease the pain of his existince, he soon finds himself, once again in the same old place that he was only a short period before. Omar then returns home, to his wife who through this entire ordeal of Omar facing a existential crisis, has stayed by him -- a devoted wife or a foolish woman? Anyhow returning home, Omar finds himself suffocated and estranged from his family, and friends but they are also happy to see him to a degree, knowing he is safe and alright. Things get interesting when we an old friend and compatriot by the name of Othman Khalil re-enters the life of Omar, this is when we learn of Omar's political past. He was a poet (something that was spoke about in the beginning) but also a socialist in his younger years. However Othman went to jail for his socialist political ideologies, and Omar did not, and even though Othman was tortured (most likely brutally) he did not reveal that Omar was also one of them. One can now only imagine what Othman feels to see his friend, reduced to an empty shell of what he once was, and also his once strong socialist ideologies, gone with his former self.
The novel ends with Omar once again leaving his family. He moves out to the country side, and lives there. Now this part of the novel gets a bit confusing. Omar is now in a state of delirium and delusions. So what is being said in these states of oddities like a bouquet of flowers which are not flowers but the heads of his family and friends, that chase him, among other interesting dreams create for a bizarre ending. At first I must admit that I thought the translation had just gotten really poor, but after perseverance, and re-reading all is set straight.
The ending leaves one with a sense of hope that Omar is going to be alright going back to his life in Cairo, but that is a fine line. There is a sense of optimism there, but as the novel had shown us before, he once feel that great feeling before, and then it was lost on him in no time. Yet it depends how the reader wishes to see it. Is Omar's life finally going to be alright or will he simply spin out of control, again and again?
"The Beggar," felt like an interesting novel for me at this current moment. At the moment I feel like I myself am facing a difficult feelings of inadequacy and wondering if my life will ever have meaning or what will I do with my life. Though I don't have the luxuries that Omar himself had, a family, a stable roof, money et cetera, there was a feeling that even with the basic necessities of life met for him, it wasn't enough. There was something missing. And though at the moment I have some of these basic necessities of life, and yet still able to enjoy the wonders of reading, writing and blogging, there still feels like there is something missing. What am I going to do with my life? Why does my life feels so incomplete? Will I ever see my life fulfilled, and lived for myself? All these questions and ponderings are something I find myself going through over and over again. Part of me tells myself that Omar and myself are not the only people feelings the nihilistic void around our lives. Facing existential crisis, and watching the absurd march of everyday life. Naguib Mahfouz with his novel "The Beggar," has written a tale of the hopeless account and desperation of a man trying to find meaning in his life.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Reader
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and wrong.*
M. Mary
Friday, 11 March 2011
The Sound of the Waves
Hello Gentle Reader
I must be a writers rug, in which the writing bug has come and snuggled close or has bitten me. Either way, I am doing yet another blog. This time, a book review about the short novel or perhaps novella by the very famous and controversial author Yukio Mishima. Now here's an interesting question is Yukio Mishima, better known for his novels, stories, and plays || OR || is he better known for his rather controversial suicide Seppuku? What is Seppuku you may ask gentle reader; it is the Japanese form of ritual suicide. More or less this ritual suicide noted as "stomach-cutting," is performed by Samurai who follow the code of Bushido honor code, and commit this suicide as a form of dying with honour rather then fall into enemy hands. It was also however a form of capital punishment -- but that’s not what this is about. Yukio Mishima in 1970's committed this suicide ritual, to preserve his honour after he had failed his attempt at a coup d'état most likely seeing this as a form of dishonour, Yukio Mishima chose to die with honour. However doing his failed attempt at the coup, Yukio Mishima was not the only one to commit suicide. In fact, one of his partners in this political form of extreme even radical activism, also committed this ritual. The young man Masakatsu Morita, however did not cut himself deep enough to be fatal, but the wound itself must have been horrible. The reason this poor young man attempted to commit this suicide was because he had tried three times and unsuccessfully failed to behead Yukio Mishima as is the proper action (ritually speaking), however Mortia did die. But it was by his own beheading, by another of the partners in this act.
Yukio Mishima if I recall correctly, came from a family of Samurai -- which probably helped influence this act. However I think in another way his death is a form of symbolism of Ancient Japan mixing in with the new western influenced Japan of his day and age after World War II. These very theme's are present in his books (I have previously read "Confessions of a Mask," by Yukio Mishima). This gesture, if you ask me, gives me the impression that Yukio Mishima's death was more than just a way of dying in a honourable fashion -- fashion being the wrong term may I add; but also a cultural symbol to both Japan and The Western world that Japan's values, rituals, and culture is uniquely its own, and that Ancient Japan lives inside of its citizens.
"The Sound of The Waves," on the surface is a simple love story. However beneath this simple love story, surrounds a world of complexity. Beneath the minimalist style, is a complex landscape. By the way -- I am aware that I am getting of track here; Yukio Mishima's minimalist style if you ask me, is much different then that of Samuel Beckett's style. Beckett's style is heavily repitious and often you can find the same set of words, being repeated in different phases but each one going back to the same first line in some cases. Yukio Mishima on the other hand showers his novel with the superficial surface details -- even facts to a degree. When describing the distance of a boat, he may not say: "The boat seems to be twenty-five yards away," Yukio Mishima may just state for planning: "The boat is twenty-five yards away."
Is there such a life in this world that is simple? Is there such a thing as simple love? When a mouse scurries to get that sunflower seed that has fallen on the pavement by a garden or by a field or a park, does that mouse not have to go through obstacles and trails, in order to claim that prize that it so much as well desires. Hiding from people, running from cats or other predators, when the mice finally reaches that prize does that mouse not see the seed as a form of a gift or something that has well been earned -- and then the mouse is ran over by a car. Because I'm sick like that.
Welcome to the world of Yukio Mishima, where even in the simplest form, of the simplest love story, is there an undercurrent of emotions, complexities, cultural values evident, and a culture still uniquely its own.
We are introduced to the main protagonist Shinji Kubo, a simple fisherman apprentice. His mother is a diving woman -- I think a Ama (I'll explain in a bit). Shinji has a younger brother, whose name is Hiroshi. Shinji's life is simple. He has no father, for his father was killed by an American bomber when he was out on a boat. In the years since Shinji and Hiroshi were young their mother took care of them, by her living as a diving woman.
Ama is a form of diving in which woman dive without any form of scuba gear or air tanks. They may however now in modern days use wet suits, fins, and goggles -- of course that is depending on the region, and also if its a tourist attraction. The Japanese tradition holds truth that this form of diving is two thousand years old. I first read about this form of diving from national geographic. I can't seem to find the article online or the magazine myself, to tell you the year and the issue number -- I have so many, it would take me a long time to find. I should however one day with free time, catalogue them. Any how, so this form of diving, is where woman dive for pearls; but also food, such as seaweed, octopus, oysters, lobsters and other forms of food from the sea. I'd say that this form of diving is strictly a Japanese tradition I think, but I could be wrong. Oh I am wrong Korea has a form of diving woman called Haenyo. Which thinking back about it now that might be what the national geographic wrote about. So in this novel Shinji's mother made a living off of this, and supported her two sons of this living until Shinji is able to support his family -- his mother does dive of course as well still.
Shinji's life appears simple and he is content with his peaceful living. However one day at twilight when he reaches the shores at night after a day of fishing he sees a woman, that he has never seen at any time before. Soon after we learn that this woman is Hatsue, who is the daughter of the wealthiest man on the island in which Shinji lives. The reason why Shinji has never before seen this woman, before is because she was being trained as a pearl diver in another island. However after her brother’s death, her father brings her back. We are next introduced to the arrogant, stuck up, and other wise rude and selfish man by the name Yasuo Kawamoto. Yasuo Kawamoto runs the "Young Men's Association," (I hope I got that right) which Shinji also attends. Though he is quite quiet, at this and simply enjoys listening to the chatter and other conversations and of course gossip.
Gossip is the villages main attribute, in this book. Gossip is how the villagers find their pleasure in such world. Like it was stated by a character (if memory serves correct it was Shinji's mother who said it) "People are always minding other peoples business." Sounds oh so familiar, to me. When I find that I live with someone who deems it "their," reasonability to mind others business for them, because they are not "fit," to mind it themselves.
This is how things go from interesting to bad for this love affair of a poor fisherman and the wealthy daughter. Shinji doesn't know it, but he's also has the admiration, of someone else, close to him. The lighthouse keepers daughter, greatly admires and loves Shinji but see's herself as ugly. One day she see's Shinji and Hatsue walking arms linked by the lighthouse. Jealous and in a fit of rage, she decides to exploit the arrogant Yasuo by telling him that Shinji has taken the virginity of Hatsue. Jealous and enraged Yasuo makes the situation take his advantage as much as possible. Rumours spread, and gossip as anyone knows can spread like wild fire. Our loves become Romeo and Juliet. For the rest of the details read the damn book yourself.
Here's what interests me with Yukio Mishima. What is it with him? He's not a particularly great author by any means -- yet again I have to read an author who is a great author or is it more appropriate to say read a author? Well either way you get the point. But there is something about his minimalist style, that just works for me. Something about his, simple form and simple descriptions, and simple this and simple that, but with such complex undertones that seem to make up for lack of character psychoanalysis and motivations. There is just something about Mishima that I just like. I won't say he is as influenced by Western Culture as Haruki Murakmi or Kenzaburo Oe even, but I would say he shows, great influences of western writing, however, he also shows great, control over traditional Japanese form. Perhaps that is where his minimalism style comes from.
But this is a lovely love story. Everyone loves a nice love story once and a while. Of course, when I told my sister that it was a love story she laughed at me and said: "And soon you'll be reading Harlequin Romances." Which I scoffed at saying that Yukio Mishima had nihilistic tendencies and committed suicide, which the witty witch remarked: "Go figure you would read a romance by an author who commits suicide."
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading books illegally is thievery and wrong.*
M. Mary
I must be a writers rug, in which the writing bug has come and snuggled close or has bitten me. Either way, I am doing yet another blog. This time, a book review about the short novel or perhaps novella by the very famous and controversial author Yukio Mishima. Now here's an interesting question is Yukio Mishima, better known for his novels, stories, and plays || OR || is he better known for his rather controversial suicide Seppuku? What is Seppuku you may ask gentle reader; it is the Japanese form of ritual suicide. More or less this ritual suicide noted as "stomach-cutting," is performed by Samurai who follow the code of Bushido honor code, and commit this suicide as a form of dying with honour rather then fall into enemy hands. It was also however a form of capital punishment -- but that’s not what this is about. Yukio Mishima in 1970's committed this suicide ritual, to preserve his honour after he had failed his attempt at a coup d'état most likely seeing this as a form of dishonour, Yukio Mishima chose to die with honour. However doing his failed attempt at the coup, Yukio Mishima was not the only one to commit suicide. In fact, one of his partners in this political form of extreme even radical activism, also committed this ritual. The young man Masakatsu Morita, however did not cut himself deep enough to be fatal, but the wound itself must have been horrible. The reason this poor young man attempted to commit this suicide was because he had tried three times and unsuccessfully failed to behead Yukio Mishima as is the proper action (ritually speaking), however Mortia did die. But it was by his own beheading, by another of the partners in this act.
Yukio Mishima if I recall correctly, came from a family of Samurai -- which probably helped influence this act. However I think in another way his death is a form of symbolism of Ancient Japan mixing in with the new western influenced Japan of his day and age after World War II. These very theme's are present in his books (I have previously read "Confessions of a Mask," by Yukio Mishima). This gesture, if you ask me, gives me the impression that Yukio Mishima's death was more than just a way of dying in a honourable fashion -- fashion being the wrong term may I add; but also a cultural symbol to both Japan and The Western world that Japan's values, rituals, and culture is uniquely its own, and that Ancient Japan lives inside of its citizens.
"The Sound of The Waves," on the surface is a simple love story. However beneath this simple love story, surrounds a world of complexity. Beneath the minimalist style, is a complex landscape. By the way -- I am aware that I am getting of track here; Yukio Mishima's minimalist style if you ask me, is much different then that of Samuel Beckett's style. Beckett's style is heavily repitious and often you can find the same set of words, being repeated in different phases but each one going back to the same first line in some cases. Yukio Mishima on the other hand showers his novel with the superficial surface details -- even facts to a degree. When describing the distance of a boat, he may not say: "The boat seems to be twenty-five yards away," Yukio Mishima may just state for planning: "The boat is twenty-five yards away."
Is there such a life in this world that is simple? Is there such a thing as simple love? When a mouse scurries to get that sunflower seed that has fallen on the pavement by a garden or by a field or a park, does that mouse not have to go through obstacles and trails, in order to claim that prize that it so much as well desires. Hiding from people, running from cats or other predators, when the mice finally reaches that prize does that mouse not see the seed as a form of a gift or something that has well been earned -- and then the mouse is ran over by a car. Because I'm sick like that.
Welcome to the world of Yukio Mishima, where even in the simplest form, of the simplest love story, is there an undercurrent of emotions, complexities, cultural values evident, and a culture still uniquely its own.
We are introduced to the main protagonist Shinji Kubo, a simple fisherman apprentice. His mother is a diving woman -- I think a Ama (I'll explain in a bit). Shinji has a younger brother, whose name is Hiroshi. Shinji's life is simple. He has no father, for his father was killed by an American bomber when he was out on a boat. In the years since Shinji and Hiroshi were young their mother took care of them, by her living as a diving woman.
Ama is a form of diving in which woman dive without any form of scuba gear or air tanks. They may however now in modern days use wet suits, fins, and goggles -- of course that is depending on the region, and also if its a tourist attraction. The Japanese tradition holds truth that this form of diving is two thousand years old. I first read about this form of diving from national geographic. I can't seem to find the article online or the magazine myself, to tell you the year and the issue number -- I have so many, it would take me a long time to find. I should however one day with free time, catalogue them. Any how, so this form of diving, is where woman dive for pearls; but also food, such as seaweed, octopus, oysters, lobsters and other forms of food from the sea. I'd say that this form of diving is strictly a Japanese tradition I think, but I could be wrong. Oh I am wrong Korea has a form of diving woman called Haenyo. Which thinking back about it now that might be what the national geographic wrote about. So in this novel Shinji's mother made a living off of this, and supported her two sons of this living until Shinji is able to support his family -- his mother does dive of course as well still.
Shinji's life appears simple and he is content with his peaceful living. However one day at twilight when he reaches the shores at night after a day of fishing he sees a woman, that he has never seen at any time before. Soon after we learn that this woman is Hatsue, who is the daughter of the wealthiest man on the island in which Shinji lives. The reason why Shinji has never before seen this woman, before is because she was being trained as a pearl diver in another island. However after her brother’s death, her father brings her back. We are next introduced to the arrogant, stuck up, and other wise rude and selfish man by the name Yasuo Kawamoto. Yasuo Kawamoto runs the "Young Men's Association," (I hope I got that right) which Shinji also attends. Though he is quite quiet, at this and simply enjoys listening to the chatter and other conversations and of course gossip.
Gossip is the villages main attribute, in this book. Gossip is how the villagers find their pleasure in such world. Like it was stated by a character (if memory serves correct it was Shinji's mother who said it) "People are always minding other peoples business." Sounds oh so familiar, to me. When I find that I live with someone who deems it "their," reasonability to mind others business for them, because they are not "fit," to mind it themselves.
This is how things go from interesting to bad for this love affair of a poor fisherman and the wealthy daughter. Shinji doesn't know it, but he's also has the admiration, of someone else, close to him. The lighthouse keepers daughter, greatly admires and loves Shinji but see's herself as ugly. One day she see's Shinji and Hatsue walking arms linked by the lighthouse. Jealous and in a fit of rage, she decides to exploit the arrogant Yasuo by telling him that Shinji has taken the virginity of Hatsue. Jealous and enraged Yasuo makes the situation take his advantage as much as possible. Rumours spread, and gossip as anyone knows can spread like wild fire. Our loves become Romeo and Juliet. For the rest of the details read the damn book yourself.
Here's what interests me with Yukio Mishima. What is it with him? He's not a particularly great author by any means -- yet again I have to read an author who is a great author or is it more appropriate to say read a author? Well either way you get the point. But there is something about his minimalist style, that just works for me. Something about his, simple form and simple descriptions, and simple this and simple that, but with such complex undertones that seem to make up for lack of character psychoanalysis and motivations. There is just something about Mishima that I just like. I won't say he is as influenced by Western Culture as Haruki Murakmi or Kenzaburo Oe even, but I would say he shows, great influences of western writing, however, he also shows great, control over traditional Japanese form. Perhaps that is where his minimalism style comes from.
But this is a lovely love story. Everyone loves a nice love story once and a while. Of course, when I told my sister that it was a love story she laughed at me and said: "And soon you'll be reading Harlequin Romances." Which I scoffed at saying that Yukio Mishima had nihilistic tendencies and committed suicide, which the witty witch remarked: "Go figure you would read a romance by an author who commits suicide."
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading books illegally is thievery and wrong.*
M. Mary
Thursday, 10 March 2011
Piracy of Books -- The Time Has Come
Hello Gentle Reader
I appear to be in a lovely mood today so I decided I'll give you all a second blog to read. Aren't I enjoyably nice. Please hold your praise. So while I was just surfing the web as they say, I stumbled across an article about books that are being pirated. I thought I had written a blog earlier saying that Ursula Le Guin was outraged at the Authors Guild based on the fact that this Guild was not doing enough to protect the works of deceased authors, and allowing them to be uploaded on the computer, via google, without paying royalties to the estate or whoever owns the royalties. Anyhow, below is a link to Ursula Le Guin's letter of resignation based on her disagreement with the "Google Settlement," that had outraged her -- and rightfully so. Also is a article about this disagreement and how Ursula Le Guin is fighting back -- You Go Girl!
http://www.ursulakleguin.com/Note-AGResignation.html
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/jan/22/ursula-le-guin-revolt-google-digital
So today while surfing I found another article talking about pirating books. I mean in the day and age of E-books (why not I-books?) and Kindle (which I thought was a chocolate) people have found new(er) ways to find and read books. Hey its not bad if you're reading right? What the hell do I care if you are reading, or how you're reading. But apparently this e-readers are now being used to download books illegally, without paying proper royalties, to the authors that have written the book. Does this sound familiar? Do we remember the case of Napster versus the music industry? Well I do, not to mention that I didn't give a damn either; and that still goes on. So the music industry of superficial pop culture oriented songs, and otherwise, mind numbing music, was the first to be hit by this new wave of technology and the now "digital theft," that can be done in today’s world. Now television shows are pirated, and movies are being pirated, and music and books, its like the world has gone free! Except we still need money, we still go to our boring day to day jobs, come home deal with the mundane tasks, and go to bed, only do this repeating cycle with slight variations, tomorrow, and the day after that. So this idea that the world has gone free is not a utopian idea, but it has grinded the gears of a few people -- actors, directions, singers, musicians, and now authors.
Before I thought nothing of it. I didn't care, why should I care, music? television? movies? What I didn't care, and I'll admit that. But now that books are being pirated, it’s like someone has let a match under my ass, and I have picked up arms to go to war!
So now we must ask ourselves what shall we do, to stop this? How can we teach these young kids to read, and enjoy a good story -- even if it is crap; but pay for the books not just simply pirate them and steal them. Should we make commercials? Like the following:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ViRkwR6GbcE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cqzite9rizg
I mean lets face it shall we? People wouldn't (or the majority) wouldn't steal a purse from a little old lady on the street? People wouldn't (again majority) would wilfully rob a bank, or steal a car. Why is illegally downloading media seen as an exempt? Or is it not seen as an exempt but rather just a way to do it. We have to question ourselves now how do we stop this? How do we prevent further destruction, and theft of books, music, movies, television, shows and other forms of media? Maybe there is no way. I remember supporting Wikileaks in a few blogs back, which takes stolen confidential documents, and presents them to the world, now I wonder if that is right, seeing as this whole pirating theft and other forms of digital thievery has become acceptable among today’s youth and other generations as well.
According to the article that I have read (and a link will be placed soon I promise) some authors like novelist Chris Cleave (author of "The Other Hand," and "The Little Bee.") Do not see these people pirating them as evil or nasty or mean, but rather look at them in a different sense: (From the article)
"I don't blame anyone. They don't do it [download books illegally] because they are evil but because they don't understand," he said. "In the music industry, when the price of music went down to zero – as it arguably now is because of filesharing - artists didn't mind that much. My music friends love it because they can make money through gigs and merchandising, they can put their faces on T-shirts. But I'm not a rock star and I don't have that as an option. If readers lose the habit of paying me for my work, I can't work. Writing is how I make my living."
And he is right this how authors make their living. Words are their living, writing is their living, entertaining and telling stories is their living. With pirating and thievery they are now taking away that living. As Chris Cleave pointed out authors don't have the option of doing gigs and selling merchandise. They don't go out selling shirts with their faces on them without a quote on the back. The merchandise they do sell is their books, which is now being taken away from them.
This what angers novelists and writers like David Hewson who said in the article that will be posted soon:
"I spent a year of my life working on [each of] those books," he said. "They cost me time and money. Hosts of people at my publishers, people who also have the right to be paid for their work, were involved. What gives some thieving toe-rag the right to take all that work we've put in, steal it, then regurgitate it for the masses?" He added: "They are not Robin Hood, taking from the rich to give to the poor. I find it offensive."
And David Hewson is right it is offensive, because when you work at something to make it perfect, to make it work, to entertain and to be enjoyed and that work is just tossed aside as simply meaning nothing or worth nothing, then it becomes offensive. Which is why he is angry that his work is making others money who don't bother to pay him any money back, for that work. Authors don't get to live in big fancy houses of mansions with three kitchens ten bathrooms and twenty three rooms only a small minority of authors are given that luxury and its time that, the public knows that you steal, you get no more. Because if authors cannot make their living off of writing then their stories that are left untold and unsaid, can no longer be produced because they are, unfeasible, and what’s the point of writing a new one, when they have to get a job to support themselves and do what they love -- its just not doable. Its just not going to happen. I look forward to reading the next David Mitchell book or the next Margaret Atwood book of fiction, or the next book by Nobel Laureate in Literature of 2009 Herta Muller. It is offensive it is wrong, and if you love books, don't steal them because easy come easy go.
As the new campaign against books being pirated says:
"People Who Love Books Don't Steal Books"
And the promised link:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/mar/10/authors-book-piracy-cost
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always Stay Well Read
Also Don't Steal Books
M.Mary
I appear to be in a lovely mood today so I decided I'll give you all a second blog to read. Aren't I enjoyably nice. Please hold your praise. So while I was just surfing the web as they say, I stumbled across an article about books that are being pirated. I thought I had written a blog earlier saying that Ursula Le Guin was outraged at the Authors Guild based on the fact that this Guild was not doing enough to protect the works of deceased authors, and allowing them to be uploaded on the computer, via google, without paying royalties to the estate or whoever owns the royalties. Anyhow, below is a link to Ursula Le Guin's letter of resignation based on her disagreement with the "Google Settlement," that had outraged her -- and rightfully so. Also is a article about this disagreement and how Ursula Le Guin is fighting back -- You Go Girl!
http://www.ursulakleguin.com/Note-AGResignation.html
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2010/jan/22/ursula-le-guin-revolt-google-digital
So today while surfing I found another article talking about pirating books. I mean in the day and age of E-books (why not I-books?) and Kindle (which I thought was a chocolate) people have found new(er) ways to find and read books. Hey its not bad if you're reading right? What the hell do I care if you are reading, or how you're reading. But apparently this e-readers are now being used to download books illegally, without paying proper royalties, to the authors that have written the book. Does this sound familiar? Do we remember the case of Napster versus the music industry? Well I do, not to mention that I didn't give a damn either; and that still goes on. So the music industry of superficial pop culture oriented songs, and otherwise, mind numbing music, was the first to be hit by this new wave of technology and the now "digital theft," that can be done in today’s world. Now television shows are pirated, and movies are being pirated, and music and books, its like the world has gone free! Except we still need money, we still go to our boring day to day jobs, come home deal with the mundane tasks, and go to bed, only do this repeating cycle with slight variations, tomorrow, and the day after that. So this idea that the world has gone free is not a utopian idea, but it has grinded the gears of a few people -- actors, directions, singers, musicians, and now authors.
Before I thought nothing of it. I didn't care, why should I care, music? television? movies? What I didn't care, and I'll admit that. But now that books are being pirated, it’s like someone has let a match under my ass, and I have picked up arms to go to war!
So now we must ask ourselves what shall we do, to stop this? How can we teach these young kids to read, and enjoy a good story -- even if it is crap; but pay for the books not just simply pirate them and steal them. Should we make commercials? Like the following:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ViRkwR6GbcE
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Cqzite9rizg
I mean lets face it shall we? People wouldn't (or the majority) wouldn't steal a purse from a little old lady on the street? People wouldn't (again majority) would wilfully rob a bank, or steal a car. Why is illegally downloading media seen as an exempt? Or is it not seen as an exempt but rather just a way to do it. We have to question ourselves now how do we stop this? How do we prevent further destruction, and theft of books, music, movies, television, shows and other forms of media? Maybe there is no way. I remember supporting Wikileaks in a few blogs back, which takes stolen confidential documents, and presents them to the world, now I wonder if that is right, seeing as this whole pirating theft and other forms of digital thievery has become acceptable among today’s youth and other generations as well.
According to the article that I have read (and a link will be placed soon I promise) some authors like novelist Chris Cleave (author of "The Other Hand," and "The Little Bee.") Do not see these people pirating them as evil or nasty or mean, but rather look at them in a different sense: (From the article)
"I don't blame anyone. They don't do it [download books illegally] because they are evil but because they don't understand," he said. "In the music industry, when the price of music went down to zero – as it arguably now is because of filesharing - artists didn't mind that much. My music friends love it because they can make money through gigs and merchandising, they can put their faces on T-shirts. But I'm not a rock star and I don't have that as an option. If readers lose the habit of paying me for my work, I can't work. Writing is how I make my living."
And he is right this how authors make their living. Words are their living, writing is their living, entertaining and telling stories is their living. With pirating and thievery they are now taking away that living. As Chris Cleave pointed out authors don't have the option of doing gigs and selling merchandise. They don't go out selling shirts with their faces on them without a quote on the back. The merchandise they do sell is their books, which is now being taken away from them.
This what angers novelists and writers like David Hewson who said in the article that will be posted soon:
"I spent a year of my life working on [each of] those books," he said. "They cost me time and money. Hosts of people at my publishers, people who also have the right to be paid for their work, were involved. What gives some thieving toe-rag the right to take all that work we've put in, steal it, then regurgitate it for the masses?" He added: "They are not Robin Hood, taking from the rich to give to the poor. I find it offensive."
And David Hewson is right it is offensive, because when you work at something to make it perfect, to make it work, to entertain and to be enjoyed and that work is just tossed aside as simply meaning nothing or worth nothing, then it becomes offensive. Which is why he is angry that his work is making others money who don't bother to pay him any money back, for that work. Authors don't get to live in big fancy houses of mansions with three kitchens ten bathrooms and twenty three rooms only a small minority of authors are given that luxury and its time that, the public knows that you steal, you get no more. Because if authors cannot make their living off of writing then their stories that are left untold and unsaid, can no longer be produced because they are, unfeasible, and what’s the point of writing a new one, when they have to get a job to support themselves and do what they love -- its just not doable. Its just not going to happen. I look forward to reading the next David Mitchell book or the next Margaret Atwood book of fiction, or the next book by Nobel Laureate in Literature of 2009 Herta Muller. It is offensive it is wrong, and if you love books, don't steal them because easy come easy go.
As the new campaign against books being pirated says:
"People Who Love Books Don't Steal Books"
And the promised link:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/mar/10/authors-book-piracy-cost
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always Stay Well Read
Also Don't Steal Books
M.Mary
Video Games are they art?
Hello Gentle Reader
What a week it has been. Got some books I ordered, bought three more, and now I am just waiting for the last one, to be shipped to me. Upon reflection last night, I have many books from authors from around the world. Each book to me from around the world is like travelling. From Japan (Yukio Mishima, Haruki Murakami, Yasunari Kawabata) to Egypt (Naguib Mahfouz) to France (Jean-Paul Sartre) to Russia (Fyodor Dostoevsky) to England (Virginia Woolf, Doris Lessing, Kazuo Ishiguro) Canada (at least the Canada I have not seen) (Margaret Atwood) Romania/Germany (Herta Muller) all these books present a world that I have yet to see, and yet will someday enjoy seeing. But for now, reading these books from all around the world, I enjoy reading these novels. The characters may have different names, the cultures maybe different, the world around these characters are exotic to me -- and mundane to them; but the human condition, the universal themes are all the same. But they give different perspectives on the world, and the human condition, the meaning of life, what is love, what is this and what is that. All that is very interting to me. So reading to me is traveling, in time, and to different places. At least for now its an affordable way to travel.
The other day I bought a book, which is a short story collection by "Patricia Highsmith," I believe I read and reviewed her book "Strangers on A Train," here. I can't recall to be honest, either way it doesn't matter. Anyhow it was either on this book or the biography "The Talented Miss Highsmith: The Secret Life and Serious Art of Patricia Highsmith," by Joan Schenkar, that the Pulitzer prize winning critic Michael Dirda had said the following:
"Europeans honoured her as a psychological novelist, part of an existentialist tradition represented by her own favourite writers, in particular Dostoevsky, Conrad, Kafka, Gide, and Camus."
Of course, when i went to buy the selected stories of Patricia Highsmith at the book store naturally she is placed in the "Mystery," section, but I consider Patricia Highsmith, as a psychological novelist, not a psychological thriller novelist. Yes she deals with murder, she deals with, all that dark human soul like stuff. But she probes the mind. She goes into the heads of these characters, these amoral creatures, and dissects them so easily. She stands above the cranium of the characters the top of the skull removed revealing the brain, scalpel in hand, and slowly pulls apart the characters psychologically.
But this blog isn't about Patricia Highsmith, no quite the opposite really. This blog is about the Pulitzer prize winning critic Michael Dirda. Upon reading his statement about Patricia Highsmith, is where I got interested in Michael Dirda. Usually I don't really care to talk about, literary critics, and their views on works of authors. Though I wouldn't mind one day reading something by Maurice Blanchot. I usually don't like reading stuff by some critics because they come off as rather rude. I mean Harold Bloom a respected (that depends on who you ask naturally) literary critic, had moaned about Doris Lessing winning the Nobel Prize in Literature of 2007 as: "pure political correctness," and remarked that Doris Lessing was a author of "Fourth rate science fiction." That doesn't sound very nice to me. There is always a thin line with me personally of criticism and just being pompous, stuck up and just being all around reality rude. But my criticism of the literary critics cannot end with Mr. Harold Bloom, it should end with another critic by the name of Michiko Kakutani. Norman Mailer has remarked that Kakutani is a "one-woman kamakazi," who also "disdains white male authors." The next part by Norman Mailer is what I find/found most interesting is that he also remarks that she: "bring[s] out your review two weeks in advance of publication. She trashes it just to hurt sales and embarrass the author." Jonathan Franzen has called her "The stupidest person in New York." Which says a lot seeing how there are however many people in the city and metropolitan area of New York. But whatever. So it says a lot that, to me about a critic who gains the harsh criticism back from authors, because she dishes it out. Is it fair? I can't say; but is it also fair to write a horrible review two weeks in advance to simply humiliate an author for the sheer enjoyment of it? Not my place to say either, but proves my point on why I don't give much thought about critics.
But this blog is about the above critics, which is above all else irrelevant talk that has nothing to with what I was originally going to do, but seeing as I have found it fitting to fill this blog up with background information which is both pointless and meaningless, and generally fun for me to write, but of course I shall stop being self-centered, and get to the damn point.
So after seeing what Michael Dirda had wrote about Patricia Highsmith I decided to look him up, and so I did. After reading some stuff by him, and seeing his photo -- its always nice to put a face to the writer at times; I decided I was going to look for an interview with Michael Dirda. For once I may have seen a less angry critic, and so far, I have. What a relief that is.
So after looking for an interview I stumbled upon this interesting article:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/09/15/AR2007091500132.html
Which is what I wanted to discuss today. Are video games art? This is exactly what this article is about. So first and foremost I wonder to myself, what the term "Art," really means. In school, art was painting, sculpting, drawing, crafts, and all that waste of time bull shit that I didn't care about. Which first and foremost, I am not skilled with working with my hands. I don't like folding paper, because the art of "paper folding," to me is stupid. paper is to be wrote on not folded into funny useless shapes and animals. Second, my paintings never turned out to the way I wanted them too. Neither did my drawings. So I have it instilled in my brain that art, is not anything outside of this narrow field of "painting, drawing, sculpting, paper folding," frustrating forms of waste of time for me. That means that I don't consider music, carpentry, architecture, Literature/writing, singing, dancing, or video games as "Art." I consider them separate forms all on their own. Which is usually why I scoff at musicians or dancers or actors or whoever saying "well doing this kind of art . . ." turns me off. Perhaps the word "Art," has a negative form or connotation to me.
But are video games art? To me no. Not because they are not in that traditional way of entertainment, and some are more interested in blowing people’s brains out -- hello cinema and theatre is too sometimes as is literature and music can too, also art can be violent; but because the term art, is not something that I deem anything outside of "painting, drawing, sculpting et cetera," as art. So its not an insult that I don't say video games are art, because video games are very entertaining and some are of a higher quality in visuals and storytelling, but I don't see it as art. Which of course is again not an insult to people who enjoy video games. I like video games, I quite liked Silent Hill games that I have played, but I still enjoy a good book. But that doesn't mean that video games are not enjoyed by people, to this day and are not a form of "low entertainment."
In this new world of different technologies, accessible information, and a world that is smaller by the day by how connected we are via the internet, and other ways of communication. Video games are nothing more than a new form of entertainment. Did cinema kill the book? Did comic books/graphic novels, kills the book? Did television kill the book, cinema, graphic novels/comic books? No, no, no, all of them are different forms of entertainment and all of them have pros and cons, and each one of them, is good in their own way. Each one should drive and thrive in the goal and accomplishment of the goal of entertaining the buyer, the viewer, the reader, and the listener. Each one should be able to make sure that person is entertained, and is given a broaden out look on life. That’s what all forms of entertainment should be for -- to entertain and to open up peoples minds to different ways of thinking, and I am sure that video games can do that.
Besides as the last part of the article said:
"BioShock was influenced by his [Ken Levine] interest in books such as Ayn Rand's, but he didn't want to cram that interest down the throats of people just looking for a good thrill ride."
So me being bias -- its not all that bad.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
M.Mary
What a week it has been. Got some books I ordered, bought three more, and now I am just waiting for the last one, to be shipped to me. Upon reflection last night, I have many books from authors from around the world. Each book to me from around the world is like travelling. From Japan (Yukio Mishima, Haruki Murakami, Yasunari Kawabata) to Egypt (Naguib Mahfouz) to France (Jean-Paul Sartre) to Russia (Fyodor Dostoevsky) to England (Virginia Woolf, Doris Lessing, Kazuo Ishiguro) Canada (at least the Canada I have not seen) (Margaret Atwood) Romania/Germany (Herta Muller) all these books present a world that I have yet to see, and yet will someday enjoy seeing. But for now, reading these books from all around the world, I enjoy reading these novels. The characters may have different names, the cultures maybe different, the world around these characters are exotic to me -- and mundane to them; but the human condition, the universal themes are all the same. But they give different perspectives on the world, and the human condition, the meaning of life, what is love, what is this and what is that. All that is very interting to me. So reading to me is traveling, in time, and to different places. At least for now its an affordable way to travel.
The other day I bought a book, which is a short story collection by "Patricia Highsmith," I believe I read and reviewed her book "Strangers on A Train," here. I can't recall to be honest, either way it doesn't matter. Anyhow it was either on this book or the biography "The Talented Miss Highsmith: The Secret Life and Serious Art of Patricia Highsmith," by Joan Schenkar, that the Pulitzer prize winning critic Michael Dirda had said the following:
"Europeans honoured her as a psychological novelist, part of an existentialist tradition represented by her own favourite writers, in particular Dostoevsky, Conrad, Kafka, Gide, and Camus."
Of course, when i went to buy the selected stories of Patricia Highsmith at the book store naturally she is placed in the "Mystery," section, but I consider Patricia Highsmith, as a psychological novelist, not a psychological thriller novelist. Yes she deals with murder, she deals with, all that dark human soul like stuff. But she probes the mind. She goes into the heads of these characters, these amoral creatures, and dissects them so easily. She stands above the cranium of the characters the top of the skull removed revealing the brain, scalpel in hand, and slowly pulls apart the characters psychologically.
But this blog isn't about Patricia Highsmith, no quite the opposite really. This blog is about the Pulitzer prize winning critic Michael Dirda. Upon reading his statement about Patricia Highsmith, is where I got interested in Michael Dirda. Usually I don't really care to talk about, literary critics, and their views on works of authors. Though I wouldn't mind one day reading something by Maurice Blanchot. I usually don't like reading stuff by some critics because they come off as rather rude. I mean Harold Bloom a respected (that depends on who you ask naturally) literary critic, had moaned about Doris Lessing winning the Nobel Prize in Literature of 2007 as: "pure political correctness," and remarked that Doris Lessing was a author of "Fourth rate science fiction." That doesn't sound very nice to me. There is always a thin line with me personally of criticism and just being pompous, stuck up and just being all around reality rude. But my criticism of the literary critics cannot end with Mr. Harold Bloom, it should end with another critic by the name of Michiko Kakutani. Norman Mailer has remarked that Kakutani is a "one-woman kamakazi," who also "disdains white male authors." The next part by Norman Mailer is what I find/found most interesting is that he also remarks that she: "bring[s] out your review two weeks in advance of publication. She trashes it just to hurt sales and embarrass the author." Jonathan Franzen has called her "The stupidest person in New York." Which says a lot seeing how there are however many people in the city and metropolitan area of New York. But whatever. So it says a lot that, to me about a critic who gains the harsh criticism back from authors, because she dishes it out. Is it fair? I can't say; but is it also fair to write a horrible review two weeks in advance to simply humiliate an author for the sheer enjoyment of it? Not my place to say either, but proves my point on why I don't give much thought about critics.
But this blog is about the above critics, which is above all else irrelevant talk that has nothing to with what I was originally going to do, but seeing as I have found it fitting to fill this blog up with background information which is both pointless and meaningless, and generally fun for me to write, but of course I shall stop being self-centered, and get to the damn point.
So after seeing what Michael Dirda had wrote about Patricia Highsmith I decided to look him up, and so I did. After reading some stuff by him, and seeing his photo -- its always nice to put a face to the writer at times; I decided I was going to look for an interview with Michael Dirda. For once I may have seen a less angry critic, and so far, I have. What a relief that is.
So after looking for an interview I stumbled upon this interesting article:
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2007/09/15/AR2007091500132.html
Which is what I wanted to discuss today. Are video games art? This is exactly what this article is about. So first and foremost I wonder to myself, what the term "Art," really means. In school, art was painting, sculpting, drawing, crafts, and all that waste of time bull shit that I didn't care about. Which first and foremost, I am not skilled with working with my hands. I don't like folding paper, because the art of "paper folding," to me is stupid. paper is to be wrote on not folded into funny useless shapes and animals. Second, my paintings never turned out to the way I wanted them too. Neither did my drawings. So I have it instilled in my brain that art, is not anything outside of this narrow field of "painting, drawing, sculpting, paper folding," frustrating forms of waste of time for me. That means that I don't consider music, carpentry, architecture, Literature/writing, singing, dancing, or video games as "Art." I consider them separate forms all on their own. Which is usually why I scoff at musicians or dancers or actors or whoever saying "well doing this kind of art . . ." turns me off. Perhaps the word "Art," has a negative form or connotation to me.
But are video games art? To me no. Not because they are not in that traditional way of entertainment, and some are more interested in blowing people’s brains out -- hello cinema and theatre is too sometimes as is literature and music can too, also art can be violent; but because the term art, is not something that I deem anything outside of "painting, drawing, sculpting et cetera," as art. So its not an insult that I don't say video games are art, because video games are very entertaining and some are of a higher quality in visuals and storytelling, but I don't see it as art. Which of course is again not an insult to people who enjoy video games. I like video games, I quite liked Silent Hill games that I have played, but I still enjoy a good book. But that doesn't mean that video games are not enjoyed by people, to this day and are not a form of "low entertainment."
In this new world of different technologies, accessible information, and a world that is smaller by the day by how connected we are via the internet, and other ways of communication. Video games are nothing more than a new form of entertainment. Did cinema kill the book? Did comic books/graphic novels, kills the book? Did television kill the book, cinema, graphic novels/comic books? No, no, no, all of them are different forms of entertainment and all of them have pros and cons, and each one of them, is good in their own way. Each one should drive and thrive in the goal and accomplishment of the goal of entertaining the buyer, the viewer, the reader, and the listener. Each one should be able to make sure that person is entertained, and is given a broaden out look on life. That’s what all forms of entertainment should be for -- to entertain and to open up peoples minds to different ways of thinking, and I am sure that video games can do that.
Besides as the last part of the article said:
"BioShock was influenced by his [Ken Levine] interest in books such as Ayn Rand's, but he didn't want to cram that interest down the throats of people just looking for a good thrill ride."
So me being bias -- its not all that bad.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
M.Mary
Thursday, 3 March 2011
The First Blog of March
Hello Gentle Reader
This blog contains two different topics that I felt like talking about today. First and foremost I saw this neat show, on the discovery channel on . . . let’s see here, it was the premiere, and I think Monday was the day. Yes it was Monday, I do believe. So it was the premiere, as I had already just informed you, and it was called “Oddities.” The show is basically about this antique shop down in New York City, called “Obscura Antiques and Oddities.” So they sell some very interesting and peculiar and otherwise eccentric items. Of course this seems like my kind of store. Not that I am a strange or morbid person. Quite the contrary – and by contrary I don’t mean I have the sun shining out my ass! What I mean is that I present myself to the world in a rather normal fashion. I dress normal, I do normal things. And let’s face it the two people who own the shop called “Obscura Antiques and Oddities,” Are also normal people, with interesting tastes, much like myself. But instead of being narcissistic let’s continue on with this general idea here. So the shop sells, interesting things. Taxidermy(ed) animals, puppets and dolls, prosthetic limbs, straightjackets, coffins, skulls, gallstones, so on and so forth. So it looks like a very fascinating shop. If someday that I get lots of money and have a career, and am able to travel down to New York, I’d love to visit the shop and maybe buy something’s.
Any how here are some videos of the Shop for your enjoyment my Gentle Reader
http://dsc.discovery.com/videos/oddities-fashion-squeeze.html
http://dsc.discovery.com/videos/oddities-shock-therapy.html
(Just a observations but the early electroshock therapy machine kind of has the same look as the Scientology e-meter)
http://dsc.discovery.com/videos/oddities-master-violet-ray.html
http://dsc.discovery.com/videos/oddities-is-that-a-straightjacket.html
(The above one is perhaps my favourite. Edgar Oliver’s voice is just beautiful and very unique)
http://atlasobscura.com/place/obscura-antiques-and-oddities
Here are some pictures and information
Part (ii)
Well the other day – Tuesday March first to be exact I went to the bookstore. Decided to order some books, and so I did. I also plan on going to another bookstore, where I can get three books that I want – rather than having to order them. So while I was at the bookstore I went with another person, as a ride. A friend of course. This friend just happens to be really interested in these ideas of spirituality and New Age thoughts and beliefs. Whatever is what I say? I think it’s nothing more than a hoax and a greedy way of raping and pillaging the eastern religions and philosophies, and the Native American/Aboriginal beliefs, and spiritual thoughts, which had long since been dead, and destroyed – or so was originally thought; by me. So anyhow my friend is there and is trying to find a book on “Crystals,” and their meanings. So any how she’s going through the damn book, and telling me all these things that I don’t care about. Like how the Amethyst was something of a birthstone of November, in the ancient times – how ancient I wonder; and how all this and that, adds up and blah blah blah, like I give a royal shit. But here is what almost sent me bursting out laughing. When it said in the Chinese zodiac she was a “pig,” she remarked angrily to the book I assume that no she was a “Horse.” Upon that, she set the book down and tossed it aside. She then remarked: “No matter what you read you always get something different.” – which tells me something, that you should probably take that kind of stuff with a grain of salt, rather than take it so seriously, but no she decides to take it seriously and so she does. Which of course, I pay no attention to or mind, to and just ignore it, as nothing more than a “Fashionable,” thing to be interested in.
But today I found something interesting. While looking through on Google for some criticism of New Age thoughts and belief I found myself, stumbling across two things. One is the following:
“NAFPS,” which stands for “New Age Frauds & Plastic Shaman.” The other interesting thing I found was a self-help author by the name of James Arthur Ray who is being charged with three counts of reckless manslaughter. My opinion on that is coming up soon. First and foremost, let’s talk about “NAFPS,” or “New Age Frauds & Plastic Shaman,” shall we.
“New Age Frauds & Plastic Shaman,” according to their website is an activist group compromised of Native peoples and their supporters of course – I don’t know does that count me? Anyhow, more detailed put this group is against the cult-like movement called “The New Age movement.” You know the people who worship rocks, speak to angels, fear that having a dishwasher, and a stove, and other modern day appliances is evil, and they talk like that author of “The Lord of the Rings,” has written their entire life for them. More or less, the Charles Manson Family – nah I am just being an ass, but in many ways their beliefs, are not far from Manson’s own odd set of beliefs, and able to control people.
Much like the common New Age belief that the world will end in 2012, Charles Manson believed that the world will end by his own predication of what he named “Helter Skelter.” His background on these beliefs, his tools for coming up with this prophecy? The band called “The Beatles,” and the Book of Revelations by the bible. That’s right everyone, Charles Manson used those two icons, and smashed them together, to make his own idea and prophecy. Much like the New Age beliefs have used the beliefs, of ancient times, from Native American’s/Aboriginals, to the eastern philosophies, religions, and schools of thought. The only difference if anyone could say there is much of a difference at all, is that this or these New Age idea beliefs, are just like the Manson Family, expect they haven’t killed anyone . . . yet. Oh wait that brings me to the second part of my critical analysis of the New Age thought belief, that this mystical hippie loving quacks believe in.
James Arthur Ray is a professional speaker and author. Let’s change that around. Is a motivational speaker, and a self-help author. What does James Arthur Ray have to do with this? On February 3 2010 was arrested with the connections with the death of some participants at a sweat lodge ceremony. Hence earlier I had reported to you, that he was being charged with three counts of manslaughter – I mean reckless manslaughter. Here’s what has reportedly happened.
From my favorite website for such information Wikipedia, has gathered this information for me:
“[from Wikipedia] [B]y the time the sweat lodge ceremony began, the participants had undergone days of physically and mentally strenuous events that included fasting. In one game, guru James Arthur Ray even played God. Within an hour of entering the sweat lodge, people began vomiting, gasping for air and collapsing. Yet Bunn says Ray continually urged everyone to stay inside." – All that came from a participant and Texas resident Beverly Bunn – when she spoke to the associated press.
So does that sound interesting or what? This “New Age,” believer taking advantage of the sense of control and may I say power over the vulnerable minds of the other people, that he is leading in spiritual exercises, does follow the protocol and gets 3 people killed and according the article I am also reading 15 others sick.
Hmm here is some interesting news that James Arthur Ray now a motivational speaker, and self-help author and now a man on trial for Manslaughter of the reckless kind, should learn:
“[again from Wikipedia] Traditionally, a typical leader has 4 to 8 years of apprenticeship before being allowed to care for people in a lodge. Participants are instructed to call out whenever they feel uncomfortable, and the ceremony is usually stopped to help them.” – Obviously the man leading this sweat lodge, did not listen very well to the cries of his people, and now three people are dead.
“[Again from Wikipedia] The Angel Valley owners announced they have accepted Native American friends' help to "heal the land". – I can only hope that this means that these people, will shut down the place, and admit they are frauds and that they had senselessly killed three people.
If you are considered in following this story of James Ray Arthur, and hope he is convicted of what he has done, as “Reckless manslaughter,” which to me is just a nice way of saying: “oops sorry I killed you.” Please follow the link that will follow, to read an article of CNN.
Thank-You for reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always Stay Well Read
M. Mary
P.S. Don’t follow stupid people’s ideas because they promise you meaning and they promise you help, and they promise you all these aspects of human life. Face the fact that we all come to realize these existential crisis’s, and that we all suffer the idea of “what is the meaning of my life?” but that is not for anyone to tell you what it is, that is for you to discover on your own. That’s for you to decide, and for you to find out. No one else’s.
References:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Arthur_Ray#Witness_accounts
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Arthur_Ray#Native_American_perspective
CNN Article:
http://www.cnn.com/2011/CRIME/03/01/arizona.sweat.lodge.deaths/index.html
This blog contains two different topics that I felt like talking about today. First and foremost I saw this neat show, on the discovery channel on . . . let’s see here, it was the premiere, and I think Monday was the day. Yes it was Monday, I do believe. So it was the premiere, as I had already just informed you, and it was called “Oddities.” The show is basically about this antique shop down in New York City, called “Obscura Antiques and Oddities.” So they sell some very interesting and peculiar and otherwise eccentric items. Of course this seems like my kind of store. Not that I am a strange or morbid person. Quite the contrary – and by contrary I don’t mean I have the sun shining out my ass! What I mean is that I present myself to the world in a rather normal fashion. I dress normal, I do normal things. And let’s face it the two people who own the shop called “Obscura Antiques and Oddities,” Are also normal people, with interesting tastes, much like myself. But instead of being narcissistic let’s continue on with this general idea here. So the shop sells, interesting things. Taxidermy(ed) animals, puppets and dolls, prosthetic limbs, straightjackets, coffins, skulls, gallstones, so on and so forth. So it looks like a very fascinating shop. If someday that I get lots of money and have a career, and am able to travel down to New York, I’d love to visit the shop and maybe buy something’s.
Any how here are some videos of the Shop for your enjoyment my Gentle Reader
http://dsc.discovery.com/videos/oddities-fashion-squeeze.html
http://dsc.discovery.com/videos/oddities-shock-therapy.html
(Just a observations but the early electroshock therapy machine kind of has the same look as the Scientology e-meter)
http://dsc.discovery.com/videos/oddities-master-violet-ray.html
http://dsc.discovery.com/videos/oddities-is-that-a-straightjacket.html
(The above one is perhaps my favourite. Edgar Oliver’s voice is just beautiful and very unique)
http://atlasobscura.com/place/obscura-antiques-and-oddities
Here are some pictures and information
Part (ii)
Well the other day – Tuesday March first to be exact I went to the bookstore. Decided to order some books, and so I did. I also plan on going to another bookstore, where I can get three books that I want – rather than having to order them. So while I was at the bookstore I went with another person, as a ride. A friend of course. This friend just happens to be really interested in these ideas of spirituality and New Age thoughts and beliefs. Whatever is what I say? I think it’s nothing more than a hoax and a greedy way of raping and pillaging the eastern religions and philosophies, and the Native American/Aboriginal beliefs, and spiritual thoughts, which had long since been dead, and destroyed – or so was originally thought; by me. So anyhow my friend is there and is trying to find a book on “Crystals,” and their meanings. So any how she’s going through the damn book, and telling me all these things that I don’t care about. Like how the Amethyst was something of a birthstone of November, in the ancient times – how ancient I wonder; and how all this and that, adds up and blah blah blah, like I give a royal shit. But here is what almost sent me bursting out laughing. When it said in the Chinese zodiac she was a “pig,” she remarked angrily to the book I assume that no she was a “Horse.” Upon that, she set the book down and tossed it aside. She then remarked: “No matter what you read you always get something different.” – which tells me something, that you should probably take that kind of stuff with a grain of salt, rather than take it so seriously, but no she decides to take it seriously and so she does. Which of course, I pay no attention to or mind, to and just ignore it, as nothing more than a “Fashionable,” thing to be interested in.
But today I found something interesting. While looking through on Google for some criticism of New Age thoughts and belief I found myself, stumbling across two things. One is the following:
“NAFPS,” which stands for “New Age Frauds & Plastic Shaman.” The other interesting thing I found was a self-help author by the name of James Arthur Ray who is being charged with three counts of reckless manslaughter. My opinion on that is coming up soon. First and foremost, let’s talk about “NAFPS,” or “New Age Frauds & Plastic Shaman,” shall we.
“New Age Frauds & Plastic Shaman,” according to their website is an activist group compromised of Native peoples and their supporters of course – I don’t know does that count me? Anyhow, more detailed put this group is against the cult-like movement called “The New Age movement.” You know the people who worship rocks, speak to angels, fear that having a dishwasher, and a stove, and other modern day appliances is evil, and they talk like that author of “The Lord of the Rings,” has written their entire life for them. More or less, the Charles Manson Family – nah I am just being an ass, but in many ways their beliefs, are not far from Manson’s own odd set of beliefs, and able to control people.
Much like the common New Age belief that the world will end in 2012, Charles Manson believed that the world will end by his own predication of what he named “Helter Skelter.” His background on these beliefs, his tools for coming up with this prophecy? The band called “The Beatles,” and the Book of Revelations by the bible. That’s right everyone, Charles Manson used those two icons, and smashed them together, to make his own idea and prophecy. Much like the New Age beliefs have used the beliefs, of ancient times, from Native American’s/Aboriginals, to the eastern philosophies, religions, and schools of thought. The only difference if anyone could say there is much of a difference at all, is that this or these New Age idea beliefs, are just like the Manson Family, expect they haven’t killed anyone . . . yet. Oh wait that brings me to the second part of my critical analysis of the New Age thought belief, that this mystical hippie loving quacks believe in.
James Arthur Ray is a professional speaker and author. Let’s change that around. Is a motivational speaker, and a self-help author. What does James Arthur Ray have to do with this? On February 3 2010 was arrested with the connections with the death of some participants at a sweat lodge ceremony. Hence earlier I had reported to you, that he was being charged with three counts of manslaughter – I mean reckless manslaughter. Here’s what has reportedly happened.
From my favorite website for such information Wikipedia, has gathered this information for me:
“[from Wikipedia] [B]y the time the sweat lodge ceremony began, the participants had undergone days of physically and mentally strenuous events that included fasting. In one game, guru James Arthur Ray even played God. Within an hour of entering the sweat lodge, people began vomiting, gasping for air and collapsing. Yet Bunn says Ray continually urged everyone to stay inside." – All that came from a participant and Texas resident Beverly Bunn – when she spoke to the associated press.
So does that sound interesting or what? This “New Age,” believer taking advantage of the sense of control and may I say power over the vulnerable minds of the other people, that he is leading in spiritual exercises, does follow the protocol and gets 3 people killed and according the article I am also reading 15 others sick.
Hmm here is some interesting news that James Arthur Ray now a motivational speaker, and self-help author and now a man on trial for Manslaughter of the reckless kind, should learn:
“[again from Wikipedia] Traditionally, a typical leader has 4 to 8 years of apprenticeship before being allowed to care for people in a lodge. Participants are instructed to call out whenever they feel uncomfortable, and the ceremony is usually stopped to help them.” – Obviously the man leading this sweat lodge, did not listen very well to the cries of his people, and now three people are dead.
“[Again from Wikipedia] The Angel Valley owners announced they have accepted Native American friends' help to "heal the land". – I can only hope that this means that these people, will shut down the place, and admit they are frauds and that they had senselessly killed three people.
If you are considered in following this story of James Ray Arthur, and hope he is convicted of what he has done, as “Reckless manslaughter,” which to me is just a nice way of saying: “oops sorry I killed you.” Please follow the link that will follow, to read an article of CNN.
Thank-You for reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always Stay Well Read
M. Mary
P.S. Don’t follow stupid people’s ideas because they promise you meaning and they promise you help, and they promise you all these aspects of human life. Face the fact that we all come to realize these existential crisis’s, and that we all suffer the idea of “what is the meaning of my life?” but that is not for anyone to tell you what it is, that is for you to discover on your own. That’s for you to decide, and for you to find out. No one else’s.
References:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Arthur_Ray#Witness_accounts
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Arthur_Ray#Native_American_perspective
CNN Article:
http://www.cnn.com/2011/CRIME/03/01/arizona.sweat.lodge.deaths/index.html
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