What I read: Sister Carrie by Theodore Dreiser.
I chose Sister Carrie because I had the vague idea that I'd seen a William Wyler movie based on one of his novels. Wyler did in fact make a movie of Sister Carrie (Carrie--no not the one with the high school burning down), but I haven't seen it. I did see Dodsworth directed by Wyler (novel by Sinclair Lewis), so I was sort of right!
On the other hand, I was completely wrong about Sister Carrie's content, which I assumed was about a nun. Yes, I know, for an English major, I have alarming gaps in my knowledge of literature! Actually, Sister Carrie is rather like an Americanized Tess of the D'Urbervilles except that instead of being an angelic innocent who falls into trouble after trouble after trouble, Carrie is an amoral innocent who takes whatever comes along, trouble or not.
Sister Carrie is WAAAY more interesting than Tess.
Beyond having an innocent heroine, the novels also share a sense of inevitability or fate. However, while in Hardy, this sense of fate is tied to God or the universe or something "out there", in Dreiser, the fate of Carrie and her lovers is tied to their personal inability to act. They are quintessentially amoral--the natural man, as Mormons call it--who simply react to whatever's in front of them. Carrie doesn't choose to become one man's mistress and another man's bigamist wife and then dump them. She simply takes whatever presents itself. It isn't that the road to hell is paved with good intentions; rather, the road to hell is paved with no intentions at all. This looks good. Okay. Whatever. (This is my personal explanation for things like Enron. There are truly corrupt financial people, and then there are lots of salespeople and such who simply can't formulate a personal/moral reason not to keep doing what they are doing or being asked to do.)
Like I said, WAAAY more interesting than Tess.
The tone of the novel actually reminds me more of restoration comedies than Hardy. The novel is very much a character study, and Dreiser goes out of his way to give us Carrie's mentality without much moralizing; however, there's a consistent acerbic tone underlying the prose. I used "detached irony" for the post title because I couldn't come up with a "D" word that meant "sardonic and cynical without being totally pessimistic; also rather droll but not really funny and just a tad moralistic." If anyone can supply a word, I'll take it!
It's very readable although due to its length, I've been tackling it in small doses. I'm in the last fourth of the book, and I've ordered the 1952 movie with Laurence Olivier and Jennifer Jones through Netflix. I'll be curious to see if the movie romanticizes the ending or keeps it as is. It is frankly--and I don't feel bad warning people because I hate reading long books thinking they will end happily when they don't--depressing, but it's more Of Mice and Men depressing than The Pearl or Ethan Frome depressing. I really can't stand books that end not only with a death but with the message that life is worthless. Kill people off by all means, but hey, I'm still standing. Dreiser appears to belong to the "and life just keeps rolling on" mentality of tragic endings.
BOOKS
Tuesday, April 21, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
The Wonderful Ironic Relationship of Bones and Booth
I currently watched the entirety of Bones, Season 2 and decided I would give Season 3 a chance. Whatever the occasional flaws in the writing/character development, those Bones writers who are in charge of Brennan and Booth are very, very, very good at their job.
The wonderful irony of Brennan and Booth is that out of all the characters on the show, Brennan is the one who eschews marriage the most and, out of all the characters on the show, Brennan is the one who needs--and thrives on--a long-term, committed, stable romantic relationship the most.
Hence, Booth.
The second wonderful irony of Brennan and Booth is that like so many women throughout history, Brennan's long-term, committed, stable, romantic (even if she doesn't know it yet) relationship is with a man who is the mirror of her father.
And this isn't even me. This is the writers.
The writers go out of their way to pinpoint similarities between Booth and Max Keenan. Booth understands Max Keenan's philosophy ("Law of the Jungle") and defends it to Brennan. Booth encourages Brennan to support her father, especially after Booth arrests him. Max himself selects Booth as his back-up ("You take care of her"), and I have personally always been convinced that Max kills the Deputy Director as much for Booth's sake as for Brennan's. Speaking of that particular episode--"Judas on a Pole"--the writers/directors make a deliberate visual connection between Max and Booth when they morph from Max watching the body burn to Booth watching the burnt body: same pose, same stance.
Booth is Max's anti- or mirror. He isn't a clone. He is the good guy (who occasionally, unknown to Brennan, protects her by jungle means); he is law to Max's disorder. I love the scene in Season 3 when Booth says, "I'm good. You know back in the day when people were dumping tea in the harbor, I would have rounded them all up. We'd still be British."
And Brennan laughs. Brennan needs a man with a consistent worldview. She also needs a man who won't end up getting her killed because of his "outlaw" tendencies. She needs, however much she intellectually dismisses the need, the "knight in shining FBI standard-issue body armor," as Angela puts it. And she's got it: she's got the guy who, unlike her father, won't abandon her but, like her father, will protect her.
And she protects him. I'm not a big advocate of needy people hooking up on the hope that they will solve each other's needs. I am a big advocate of people complementing (and complimenting) each other. Two people with similar neediness: BAD. Two people with complementing neediness: GOOD.
Brennan needs stability. Booth needs someone to protect. He is pure Alpha male, tempered by self-doubt. Booth was a sniper--and a good one. He doesn't have a philosophical or legal or moral problem with being a sniper or with shooting bad guys. But he doesn't want to do it anymore. It isn't about Booth saying, "Oh, I was a horrible person." It's about Booth saying, "I no longer want to take on that particular function." He wants a constructive role rather than a destructive role. This is, bluntly, Alpha male patriarchy at its best. (Yes, it does exist.)
Booth doesn't want someone to domineer and wouldn't tolerate that kind of relationship for two seconds (good Alpha males rarely do). Rather, he wants to play a constructive role in someone's life--someone who needs him.
Hence, Brennan.
Clark Kent and Wonder Woman: hey, it could work!
The wonderful irony of Brennan and Booth is that out of all the characters on the show, Brennan is the one who eschews marriage the most and, out of all the characters on the show, Brennan is the one who needs--and thrives on--a long-term, committed, stable romantic relationship the most.
Hence, Booth.
The second wonderful irony of Brennan and Booth is that like so many women throughout history, Brennan's long-term, committed, stable, romantic (even if she doesn't know it yet) relationship is with a man who is the mirror of her father.
And this isn't even me. This is the writers.
The writers go out of their way to pinpoint similarities between Booth and Max Keenan. Booth understands Max Keenan's philosophy ("Law of the Jungle") and defends it to Brennan. Booth encourages Brennan to support her father, especially after Booth arrests him. Max himself selects Booth as his back-up ("You take care of her"), and I have personally always been convinced that Max kills the Deputy Director as much for Booth's sake as for Brennan's. Speaking of that particular episode--"Judas on a Pole"--the writers/directors make a deliberate visual connection between Max and Booth when they morph from Max watching the body burn to Booth watching the burnt body: same pose, same stance.
Booth is Max's anti- or mirror. He isn't a clone. He is the good guy (who occasionally, unknown to Brennan, protects her by jungle means); he is law to Max's disorder. I love the scene in Season 3 when Booth says, "I'm good. You know back in the day when people were dumping tea in the harbor, I would have rounded them all up. We'd still be British."
And Brennan laughs. Brennan needs a man with a consistent worldview. She also needs a man who won't end up getting her killed because of his "outlaw" tendencies. She needs, however much she intellectually dismisses the need, the "knight in shining FBI standard-issue body armor," as Angela puts it. And she's got it: she's got the guy who, unlike her father, won't abandon her but, like her father, will protect her.
And she protects him. I'm not a big advocate of needy people hooking up on the hope that they will solve each other's needs. I am a big advocate of people complementing (and complimenting) each other. Two people with similar neediness: BAD. Two people with complementing neediness: GOOD.
Brennan needs stability. Booth needs someone to protect. He is pure Alpha male, tempered by self-doubt. Booth was a sniper--and a good one. He doesn't have a philosophical or legal or moral problem with being a sniper or with shooting bad guys. But he doesn't want to do it anymore. It isn't about Booth saying, "Oh, I was a horrible person." It's about Booth saying, "I no longer want to take on that particular function." He wants a constructive role rather than a destructive role. This is, bluntly, Alpha male patriarchy at its best. (Yes, it does exist.)
Booth doesn't want someone to domineer and wouldn't tolerate that kind of relationship for two seconds (good Alpha males rarely do). Rather, he wants to play a constructive role in someone's life--someone who needs him.
Hence, Brennan.
Clark Kent and Wonder Woman: hey, it could work!
Saturday, April 4, 2009
C is for Continuous Catastrophe (Cussler)
What I read: Raise the Titanic! by Clive Cussler.
"C" was hard. I've read and skimmed lots of lots of "Cs"--Cabot, Card, Caudwell, Cherryh, Christie, Clancy, Clarke (Arthur C.), Conrad.
I decided to read Raise the Titanic! by Cussler. I got through two chapters and gave up.
To be fair, I wasn't just put off by the bad writing. Clive Cussler writes a type of story that I just can't wrap my mind around entertainment-wise. This could, admittedly, be a gal thing.
Cussler writes the type of adventure story in which an Alpha male runs around saving people and bedding women. The adventures are usually international/political/military in scope. They are almost exclusively plot-oriented rather than character or narrative-oriented. Instead of the story being the result of the characters' internal or external choices OR the result of a narrative arc, such as a mystery or romance (dead body, detective work, confrontation, everybody goes home; romantic meeting, separation, union, everybody gets married), the plot is a series of events: this happens, then this happens, then this happens, then this happens.
I never have been able to read The Da Vinci Code, not because it offends me (although I think silly history is, well, silly history) but because it is this type of novel. This reaction is normal for me. In general, the opening action sequence for this type of novel never hooks me. I don't care about the characters; I don't care if the world is ending; I don't care if there's a conspiracy going on somewhere. (I can usually watch this type of movie, by the way; I just can't read the books.)
I'm also not a big fan of the James Bond type of Alpha male. I'm not opposed to action Alpha males in general. I quite like Bruce Willis in Die Hard and in Shymalan's movies. I'm a huge fan of Jason Bourne. I like Batman, that introverted Alpha male, and Superman, that extroverted Alpha male. But then--it's got to be a gal thing--all the Alpha males I've listed are one-woman guys . . . except for Batman who is a kind of collective misanthrope.
But the "love 'em and leave 'em" stuff leaves me cold. To be fair, I don't especially like women action figures who are all about "my tough lonely life where I pick up people and drop them but still manage to remain attractive even though I'm a complete jerk."
So Cussler was possibly not the best choice for me (although I do like all things Titanic!). However, for those of you who ARE into Cussler's type of action writing, I recommend Clancy or Cornwell or even Fleming himself. Cussler--at least in Raise the Titanic!--is a pretty horrible writer. He actually has a main character give one of those monologues that are usually held up as "never do this" examples to beginning writers:
"C" was hard. I've read and skimmed lots of lots of "Cs"--Cabot, Card, Caudwell, Cherryh, Christie, Clancy, Clarke (Arthur C.), Conrad.
I decided to read Raise the Titanic! by Cussler. I got through two chapters and gave up.
To be fair, I wasn't just put off by the bad writing. Clive Cussler writes a type of story that I just can't wrap my mind around entertainment-wise. This could, admittedly, be a gal thing.
Cussler writes the type of adventure story in which an Alpha male runs around saving people and bedding women. The adventures are usually international/political/military in scope. They are almost exclusively plot-oriented rather than character or narrative-oriented. Instead of the story being the result of the characters' internal or external choices OR the result of a narrative arc, such as a mystery or romance (dead body, detective work, confrontation, everybody goes home; romantic meeting, separation, union, everybody gets married), the plot is a series of events: this happens, then this happens, then this happens, then this happens.
I never have been able to read The Da Vinci Code, not because it offends me (although I think silly history is, well, silly history) but because it is this type of novel. This reaction is normal for me. In general, the opening action sequence for this type of novel never hooks me. I don't care about the characters; I don't care if the world is ending; I don't care if there's a conspiracy going on somewhere. (I can usually watch this type of movie, by the way; I just can't read the books.)
I'm also not a big fan of the James Bond type of Alpha male. I'm not opposed to action Alpha males in general. I quite like Bruce Willis in Die Hard and in Shymalan's movies. I'm a huge fan of Jason Bourne. I like Batman, that introverted Alpha male, and Superman, that extroverted Alpha male. But then--it's got to be a gal thing--all the Alpha males I've listed are one-woman guys . . . except for Batman who is a kind of collective misanthrope.
But the "love 'em and leave 'em" stuff leaves me cold. To be fair, I don't especially like women action figures who are all about "my tough lonely life where I pick up people and drop them but still manage to remain attractive even though I'm a complete jerk."
So Cussler was possibly not the best choice for me (although I do like all things Titanic!). However, for those of you who ARE into Cussler's type of action writing, I recommend Clancy or Cornwell or even Fleming himself. Cussler--at least in Raise the Titanic!--is a pretty horrible writer. He actually has a main character give one of those monologues that are usually held up as "never do this" examples to beginning writers:
Nancy, I know you are depressed due to losing your baby last year after three years in the mental institution where you went after I put your brother behind bars for a drug deal in which you were partially implicated . . . (Not from Cussler's book, but you get the idea.)On the other hand, editors keep telling me (about my stories), "Well-written, but I'm not sure what's going on," so maybe Cussler has the right idea.
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