Where on Earth is That Woman?
Thursday, October 13th, 2005 11:00 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rolanniHere and there. Not quite back again.
The pre-ordered hardcover editions of Liaden Universe(R) Companion, Vol. One are getting into the mail, slow and steady. Flu shots have been had; gym has gone forth; cats have been cuddled. "Necessary Evils," the short story, has been tweaked one!more!time! and pronounced Done. (I'd been hoping to feel a little less like a Krispy Kritter on the writing front by now. Crystal Dragon took more outta me than I had understood, I guess.)
Films viewed lately, only one: Casablanca, which I had never seen before (yes, I am a barbarian). Wonderful movie, lots of levels. At this point (because I'd probably hate the movie if I thought otherwise, and I really don't want to dislike such a pretty piece of storytelling), it is my firm belief that Ilsa played Rick perfectly, knowing that he was a Romantic and unable, ultimately, to resist the opportunity to make the Grand Gesture.
Reading: Tamsin by Peter Beagle; and "Why Experimental Fiction Threatens to Destroy Publishing, Jonathan Franzen, and Life as We Know It: A Correction" by Ben Marcus, Harper's October 2005.
This is an interesting juxtaposition of reading matter. Mr. Marcus' little rant is upwards of fourteen pages long, and dense going. While I find that I agree with some of his points -- and am amused by some of his gyrations -- I confess myself baffled by those writers who eschew stories told in the same old narrative form. Mr. Marcus, himself a self-described "ambitious" writer, feels that the writer's debt to the reader is not satisfied by merely telling stories; one must do something new and exciting -- something unique, if not understandable -- with the words on the page. It's an odd viewpoint; and one that I understand so little of that I can't even say I disagree with it; my reaction something more along the lines of, "This is a joke, right?"
Tamsin, for instance, seems to me to demonstrate that everything Mr. Marcus averrs is nonsense. Here is a story told in the simplest, most transparent language possible, in which many magical things happen. It's the very simplicity of the prose that compels the reader, and that makes those magical things seem real.
I suppose that's the difference between genre and literature.
Or between genius and poseur...
The pre-ordered hardcover editions of Liaden Universe(R) Companion, Vol. One are getting into the mail, slow and steady. Flu shots have been had; gym has gone forth; cats have been cuddled. "Necessary Evils," the short story, has been tweaked one!more!time! and pronounced Done. (I'd been hoping to feel a little less like a Krispy Kritter on the writing front by now. Crystal Dragon took more outta me than I had understood, I guess.)
Films viewed lately, only one: Casablanca, which I had never seen before (yes, I am a barbarian). Wonderful movie, lots of levels. At this point (because I'd probably hate the movie if I thought otherwise, and I really don't want to dislike such a pretty piece of storytelling), it is my firm belief that Ilsa played Rick perfectly, knowing that he was a Romantic and unable, ultimately, to resist the opportunity to make the Grand Gesture.
Reading: Tamsin by Peter Beagle; and "Why Experimental Fiction Threatens to Destroy Publishing, Jonathan Franzen, and Life as We Know It: A Correction" by Ben Marcus, Harper's October 2005.
This is an interesting juxtaposition of reading matter. Mr. Marcus' little rant is upwards of fourteen pages long, and dense going. While I find that I agree with some of his points -- and am amused by some of his gyrations -- I confess myself baffled by those writers who eschew stories told in the same old narrative form. Mr. Marcus, himself a self-described "ambitious" writer, feels that the writer's debt to the reader is not satisfied by merely telling stories; one must do something new and exciting -- something unique, if not understandable -- with the words on the page. It's an odd viewpoint; and one that I understand so little of that I can't even say I disagree with it; my reaction something more along the lines of, "This is a joke, right?"
Tamsin, for instance, seems to me to demonstrate that everything Mr. Marcus averrs is nonsense. Here is a story told in the simplest, most transparent language possible, in which many magical things happen. It's the very simplicity of the prose that compels the reader, and that makes those magical things seem real.
I suppose that's the difference between genre and literature.
Or between genius and poseur...
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no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 10:39 am (UTC)Play. Which I can see. To a point. To lift the reader out of hisorher daily daily and give their brains a good shaking up -- kind of like spring cleaning the skull. Which I can also see. To a point. But those are side issues, as far as I'm concerned. The real purpose of words on a page is to either (1) tell a story or (2) convey information as quickly and as clearly as possible.
I note that my prejudices here are colored by an early difficulty in speaking, and a speech impediment which lingered into adulthood. Communication is both too difficult and too precious for me to enjoy the deliberate creation of confusion, Art or no Art.
Are you one of those people who's got a list of never-seen films that makes other people ask, "Did you live in a box as a kid?"
Well, see, my dad liked war movies and my grandmother liked musicals. So I had an ...odd... core curriculum.
no subject
Date: 2005-10-13 01:20 pm (UTC)Mmm, Bridge Over the River Kwai with a chaser of Singin' in the Rain.
...I haven't seen either one of those, either. No, really, no box, I swear. But I did go to a performance of Carmen when I was twelve. So my core curriculum was all about the arias. Why do parents do these things to their kids? ;)