I Want to Read: Chéri

A few weeks ago, I felt like going to the movies. I'd planned to see Public Enemies. I love the book of the same name by Bryan Burrough, and I'd been waiting for it to come out for ages. Suddenly, when the time came....I found I wasn't in the mood to see it. I blame the slightly tepid reviews and, possibly, Christian Bale, whom I've never found to be particularly charismatic.

I was still ready to go to the movies, though. I recalled the positive review I'd read of Chéri, which was playing at the Angelika. Considering the price of movie tickets, especially here in the city, I normally try to save moviegoing for films that really demand the big screen (Star Trek, Up, etc.). Chéri, as you might expect, does not fall into that category, having a decided lack of special effects.

So I went on a lark, and it turned out to be great idea. The plot is quite simple: Léa (Michelle Pfeiffer) is an aging courtesan who takes the son of a fellow lady of the evening (Kathy Bates, awesome as always) under her wing. The son, called Chéri (Rupert Friend), is a bit aimless and dissolute, and his mother relies on Léa to help push him into adulthood. Of course, when the time comes, she expects Chéri will make a more suitable match. The problem being, of course, in the meantime, Léa and Chéri fall in love. Le sigh, I know.

It's a light film, although it's sad as well; sadder than I might have expected from the trailer. I've never found Michelle Pfeiffer to be particularly relatable in the past, but she did a fine job here. I also think it would be hard to dislike Friend (the blue-eyed Orlando Bloom, though I'm far from the first to make that comparison).

Altogether, I liked the film enough that I was interested in exploring the original book, which was written by Colette. Even better, I began to entertain the idea of reading it in the original French, with the hope that my knowledge of the movie's plot would be enough to guide me through any tricky passages. It hasn't gotten past the idea stage, yet, which is partly just because I can't walk into Barnes and Noble and buy the French-language version. I read a few paragraphs at Project Gutenberg and followed them without a problem, but I'm not particularly keen on reading the whole novel off a computer screen - or printing it out. Oddly, I'm not really compelled to read it in English. Funny that.

So we'll see. It would be an ambitious undertaking, but I would enjoy practicing my rusty French.

Bleak House update: more than halfway through. Oh, I can't wait to write about it!

An Exercise in Opening Lines

So, here's the thing: I'm reading Bleak House, as I mentioned in the previous post. It's great, but over 800 pages long, so I don't expect to finish particularly soon. However, I want to keep updating this blog, so I've been thinking of what else I could post about (considering I haven't found any good links recently).

I was thinking about Dickens, and how several of his books have memorable opening lines. Then I thought about the importance of opening lines in general, and how the decision to read a novel may hinge on just that handful of words. So, in lieu of providing proper recommendations, I thought I'd share some of the opening lines from books on my shelves. Perhaps something will catch your eye.

"In later years, holding forth to an interviewer or to an audience of aging fans at a comic book convention, Sam Clay liked to declare, apropos of his and Joe Kavalier's greatest creation, that back when he was a boy, sealed and hog-tied inside the airtight vessel known as Brooklyn, New York, he had been haunted by dreams of Harry Houdini." - The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon

"'The Signora had no business to do it,' said Miss Bartlett, 'no business at all. She promised us south rooms with a view close together, instead of which here are north rooms, looking into a courtyard, and a long way apart. Oh, Lucy!'" - A Room with a View by E.M. Forster

"It was a nice day. All the days had been nice. There had been rather more than seven of them so far, and rain hadn't been invented yet. But the clouds massing east of Eden suggested that the first thunderstorm was on its way, and it was going to be a big one." - Good Omens by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett

"I was on 'Oprah' a while ago, talking about how I used to love too much. Did you see it? The other guests were men who continue to love too much. Those men were in a place I used to be, and I felt sorry for them. I was the guest who went from loving too much to being loved too much. Everybody loves me. I'm the most important person in the lives of almost everyone I know and a good number of people I've never even met. I don't say this casually; I'm just pointing out my qualification." - "Parade" from Barrel Fever by David Sedaris

That's it for now. Back to Jarndyce v. Jarndyce for me!

Burr by Gore Vidal

As a youth, Hamilton was physically most attractive with red-gold hair, bright if somewhat watery blue eyes and a small but strong body. It was our peculiar tragedy - or glory - to be of an age and quality and at a time and place certain to make rivals of us. Yet from the beginning we had a personal liking for one another. We were like brothers (yes, Cain and Abel come to mind with the difference that each was part-Cain, part-Abel). At first meeting I knew Hamilton straight through. I suspect he knew me as well, and could not endure the knowledge that of the two of us I alone had the means and talent to be what he most wanted to be, the president. He came to hate not only my capacity but my opportunity. Yet I wonder if he knew all along that I would fail, saw the flaw in me as I saw the one in him? [...] Curious to think that we would almost certainly have been friends had we not been two young "heroes" at the beginning of a new nation, each aware that at the summit there is a place for only one. As it turned out, neither of us was to reach the highest place. I hurled Hamilton from the mountain-side, and myself fell.

-Burr

How much does the average person know about Aaron Burr? I honestly feel that the first thing that might come to mind is that (still funny) milk commercial. Consequently, I imagine many people might recall the Burr/Hamilton duel, even if that's all they know of either of those men. His vice-presidential term? His treason charge? I love American history, and I think these ideas would have only been vaguely familiar to me prior to Burr, which made it an illuminating read.

Burr centers on the life not only of the eponymous man, but also his fictional biographer, Charlie Schuyler. Burr has taken a shine to young Schuyler, a clerk in his law office who dreams of escaping abroad to become a writer. Soon Schuyler is taking down Burr's recollections, starting with his time as an absurdly young officer in the Revolution and continuing through his various political offices, the fateful duel, and his ill-starred venture out West. At the same time, Schuyler is sorely tempted to use his relationship with Burr to gather information that could damage the upcoming presidential campaign of Martin Van Buren, who is rumored to be Burr's illegitimate child - proof (or even reasonable conjecture) of which could win the penniless Schuyler a fortune.

Although Schuyler is ostensibly our protagonist, it's Burr's story through and through. The Schuyler scenes were fine, but Burr - that was a different level. I felt as though I were reading an amazingly candid autobiography. Seeing all of these famous men (Washington and Jefferson most notably) as humans, not demigods - well, it's almost like time travel, really. I felt as though I were just one tiny step from being in the room with them all.

Gore Vidal makes what must have been a herculean task of scholarship look effortless. His prose is easy and unforced. The characters were revelations, particularly Jefferson, for whom Burr has many an unkind word, to put it mildly. Vidal notes in the afterword that he likes Jefferson rather more than Burr did (and Jackson less); all the same, Jefferson remains a troublesome figure. I've mentioned it before, but I prefer to imagine Jefferson as he is in the John Adams miniseries (although about 6 inches taller) - the dreamy, brilliant Jefferson. Quiet to the point of being standoffish, sure, but that's something I've always understood about him. Now the slavery, and the calculating behind-the-scenes political machinations (such as paying papers to slander his rivals) - well, those are the things I still struggle to reconcile. Burr shows him in all his infinite contradictions. It would be an actor's dream role; Burr, too, of course.

All in all, this was a great read: engrossing and informative without being overly dense, easy to get lost in on my subway ride in the morning. I reckon I'll miss Burr a bit. He has inspired me to see the city in a new way - most of the novel is set here, and occasionally a familiar street was mentioned. His country estate, Richmond Hill, was actually in what is the city proper today (Although there is no sign of it; it was broken up during Burr's lifetime and I couldn't even find a historical marker). I'm making an effort to notice what could have been around in the era of the novel and I find it marvelous - buildings over 100 years old all around me. I even went to Trinity Church, where Alexander Hamilton is entombed. It's an amazing place, and there's even, eerily enough, a conversation between Burr and Hamilton set there in the book.

Up next: I'm all set for a reread of Bleak House, which I read for the first time about a year ago and enjoyed immensely.

Adaptation: Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince

Spoilers ahoy.

Adaptation is a tricky business. Taking a book - over 600 pages long, imagine - and condensing it into a coherent 2 1/2 hour movie. And consider a book is so beloved that no matter what you cut out, no matter how tiny the change, someone will be upset.

This has always been the issue for the Harry Potter movies. Inevitably, things must be left out of the stories J.K. Rowling told, particularly as her books grew longer and more complex as the series unfolded. Sometimes these changes were barely noticed, or even welcomed. (I haven't heard a lot of lamenting over the loss of the ongoing S.P.E.W. plot, for example.) On the other hand, you have the fact that I'm still annoyed that no one could be bothered to properly explain the Marauder's Map in the third film.

I felt that the fifth movie, The Order of the Phoenix, was a nice balancing act - in fact, my love of the film managed to make me reconsider the book, which up until that point I had enjoyed the least. Because of my relative apathy towards that particular Potter book, I also had only read it once prior to seeing the film and was fuzzy on the details, which made changes less glaringly obvious. I thought it was a good strategy for enjoying the film in its own right, and accordingly I haven't read Half-Blood Prince in two years (although I did listen to the audiobook narrated by Stephen Fry last fall), hoping to open-minded about what was included in the film.

However, it's my favorite of the books, and it's hard to forget the details I loved. I tried to go in with muted expectations, because disappointment seemed inevitable. And even considering my aversion to spoilers, I was aware of certain omissions (notably several of the memory sequences, Dumbledore's funeral, and the fight at Hogwarts) so that they wouldn't catch me off-guard and spoil my enjoyment .

And yet, I still left the theater feeling vaguely unfulfilled. I can't say the movie wasn't good. The acting was the best yet in the series; the funny sequences particularly let the younger actors shine (Radcliffe's almost-drunken Felix Felicis attitude; Grint's reaction to the love potion). The veteran actors acquitted themselves nicely as usual, with Gambon's vulnerable work in the cave as a particular high point. I laughed a lot. I thought the special effects looked effortless.

And yet - it's really not my Half-Blood Prince, is it? I read with some apprehension the buzz about this being a lighter, funnier, more romantic Potter film. Now, granted, the romance is heightened in this book, as I recall (given, again, that it's been two years since I read it) - but are people really into Harry Potter for the romance? I consider myself a romantic, but I was never bothered by whether or not Ron and Hermione would acknowledge their feelings for one another, and I could only roll my eyes at the seemingly tacked-on matchup of Harry and Ginny.

Clearly, not why I love the book. I must be honest, I've always enjoyed the series's gradual descent into darkness. As I recall it, the state of things in Half-Blood Prince is pretty grim. At least as dark as Order of the Phoenix, especially given that Harry is grappling with the death of Sirius. (I did appreciate the invented attack on the Burrow* because it helped the audience recall that fact - otherwise, outside of an offhand remark of Slughorn's early in the film, he was already forgotten.)

Part of Harry's grief over Sirius's death in the book translates into his obsessive interest in the actions of one Draco Malfoy. ("You're getting a bit obsessed with Malfoy, Harry," Ron actually says.) The film does show him monitoring Malfoy, which, as we know, is quite well deserved. But it never really seemed all that serious to me - more as though he were watching Draco as a little hobby of his, something to do every now and then when it occurred to him. In the book it seems more purposeful - and really, there is no better word than obsessive. It was a little dark.

And speaking of Draco - oh, Draco. We're not supposed to like him; Rowling has flat out said as much. And I truly didn't for the first 5 books. But how can you not feel for him in this story? It's actually a bit sad to realize that Draco is so alone, under such unbearable pressure, and he's still villainized. I mean, one must at least pity him. He's weak, certainly, but he's not evil, and although he's done a lot of terrible things, he is still a boy. A boy raised by Lucius Malfoy**, at that.

His situation is all the more affecting in the film, where we see Draco skulking about or lost in thought in class, always alone, obviously troubled. Are there no other professors with any interest in Draco at all besides Snape? I guess there aren't psychological guidelines for teachers at Hogwarts, because he's so clearly off that it really is a wonder that only Harry and Snape notice - and in a school that's supposed to be on high alert for Tom Riddles in the making! Yes, I suppose I've taken that bit too seriously; it's what happens when an author creates a world in which one can become so invested. On a brighter note, I did enjoy that the film actually allowed us to see Draco mending the vanishing cabinet. And we saw his dark mark - brr!

I could go on for quite a bit longer - haven't even touched on Tom Riddle, brilliantly cast at both ages; the introduction of Narcissa Malfoy; the eerie extinguished candles in the Great Hall, courtesy of Narcissa's delightfully evil sister, Bellatrix - but I think this is more than enough for now. I imagine I'll see this one again - some time, not right away. Apparently my imagination is more vivid than I realized, because my own conception of the terror of the cave or the suspense in the events at the Astronomy Tower (which seemed hopelessly cluttered to me, incidentally) is unmatched by what I saw today. It is, after all my criticism, a good film, but it is one more case in which the book is the superior offering.


*Let's ignore the fact that as soon as the Burrow caught on fire, I wondered about the location of Harry's Potions book. A book that he was so devoted to - would he have left it at school, even for the holiday? We'll have to assume that was the case, as otherwise we would have to think he had it on his person at all times, which is a bit peculiar. Although I just checked the book, and he definitely brought it to the Burrow in that version of the story - and also met with Scrimgeour, whom I'd completely forgotten about and whom I'm most eager to meet, I hope in the next film.

**Who else missed Lucius? I know he's not in this story, but I can't wait to see him again - quite looking forward to seeing Malfoy Manor.

Storytime with Dominic West

Are you sitting comfortably? Dominic West (above center, in a scene from The Wire) would like to read you a story. Well, excerpts from stories - but from Pride and Prejudice and High Fidelity, so none too shabby. Of course, it's set up to promote some coffee I've never heard of.* But still! I think being read to is quite delightful, and all the better if it's Mr. West using his naturally lovely accent (although I found that I grew rather fond of his Baltimore accent as well).

Enjoy here: Carte Noire Readers

Now that I've given myself an opening, it's all I can do to keep from going off on a tangent about The Wire and and my love/disgust (hate is far too strong here) relationship with West's character Jimmy McNulty. I think my endorsement of the show is about as redundant at this point as my earlier praise of John Adams, but for the record: yes, it's extraordinarily well done; West is only one part of a talented ensemble and the writing is unparalleled in television. And, to bring things around to the proper topic, it's based in part on a book! (Homicide, by Wire auteur David Simon, which is as absorbing and troubling as the show.)

Not too bad of a tangent now, was it?

*And yet I strangely feel compelled to buy it now....

Dead Until Dark by Charlaine Harris

I'd been waiting for the vampire for years when he walked into the bar.

Ever since vampires came out of the coffin (as they laughingly put it) two years ago, I'd hoped one would come to Bon Temps. We had all the other minorities in our little town - why not the newest, the legally recognized undead? But rural northern Louisiana wasn't too tempting to vampires, apparently; on the other hand, New Orleans was a real center for them - the whole Anne Rice thing, right?

It's not that long a drive from Bon Temps to New Orleans, and everyone who came into the bar said that if you threw a rock on a street corner you'd hit one. Though you better not.

But I was waiting for my own vampire.

-Dead Until Dark

I can say right off that your appreciation of Dead Until Dark is absolutely reliant on your tolerance for silliness. For instance, that joke about coming out of the coffin: corny or cringeworthy? If you cringed, this is not the book for you.

Dead Until Dark is the story of Sookie Sackhouse, a telepathic waitress with a charmingly outdated sense of style and quite a bit of moxie. She's the one who's been waiting on a vampire; the one who finally arrives is Bill Compton. He's handsome (if a bit pale), a former military man - the Civil War, naturally. The stop-start relationship that develops between the two is one of the most engaging parts of the story, and largely the reason that disc one of True Blood (based on the Sookie Stackhouse novels) is on its way to me from Netflix.

The twosome must contend with prejudiced locals as well as vampires who are less inclined than Bill to make nice with humans. All the while, the town is terrorized by a serial killer who seems to be preying on women who consort with vampires. So: Is the killer a vampire? Is Sookie the next victim? You get the idea.

The plot is easy to follow, but still got in some good twists. It doesn't take itself too seriously, which is perhaps one of its greatest assets (ahem, Twilight*). I enjoyed the Louisiana setting, which allowed for some snazzy Cajun names and a good number of people being called "cher." And although, like I said, it has its dorky moments (synthetic blood in bars, anyone?), it was totally a fun read and I am looking forward to the sequels. They would definitely provide welcome entertainment on a plane or at the beach, but since I don't have plans that involve either of those things in the forseeable future, I may make due with park/subway.

Up next: I was feeling patriotic after the 4th, so I've started Burr. I also bought Bleak House at Barnes and Noble with almost-the-last of my gift card, and I am psyched for my upcoming reread. Killer book.

*I feel like I am being rather good by not putting in about four million digs at Twilight, but actually, other than the female human/male vampire relationship, the two books really don't have much in common.

Blackwater by Kerstin Ekman

"Shh!" said Mia. She was listening intently. Then Annie could hear a sharp, regular sound and a thumping. It was coming closer, and she realized someone was moving along the path farther up and coming toward them. She put her arm around Mia and almost pushed her down behind the tree trunk. The girl landed on the map, which rustled. Then Annie heard the noise again and realized the sharp sound was someone breathing. Panting. But she couldn't make out whether it was an animal or a human being. She held Mia pressed to the ground, but the tree trunk wasn't high enough to conceal Annie, too.

He never even saw her. He was lumbering up the slope, looking straight ahead, his mouth open, his sharp breathing coming in small labored gasps. He was very dark, with long, dead-straight hair he had tucked behind his ears. His eyes were narrow and black and he was carrying something in his arms. She had no time to identify it, seeing only that it hindered him as he hurried on. Then he was gone.

-Blackwater

It is this chance sighting in the forest, in the dead of night, that Annie Raft thinks back to at the beginning of the novel Blackwater. She's convinced she's just seen the same mysterious figure some 18 years later, this person whom she saw only a short while before stumbling upon a gruesome double murder scene. Clearly the two events must be related - right?

One quickly discovers that Kerstin Ekman is interested in probing the mistakes people make and misconceptions they have, and how they can have profound effects. Ekman has a talent for creating complex, flawed characters that don't fit into neat boxes; she is also an able wordsmith (evident even in translation from the original Swedish). Despite these assests, Blackwater is still a rather unsatisfying read.

I've learned that one of the easiest ways a work of art (be it novel, film, etc.) can disappoint you is to unhappily defy your expectations. If you go in expecting a funny book and find things to be quite grim instead, for example. Perhaps it's a wonderfully written serious book, but if you started in expecting to laugh, it may be hard to fully appreciate it.

I expected Blackwater to be a mystery. I suppose it is, in a way (and I've tagged it as such), but it became evident to me that Ekman was far more interested in exploring the ramifications of that double murder on a few of the local residents than actually following the investigation of the crime (really, that only dominates the story in about the last 50 pages or so, and the resolution is fairly anticlimactic). Not a bad idea at all, but not what I'd hoped to read. The rest of the book deals with life on a Swedish commune (not necessarily my cup of tea, as it turns out), the sexual initiation of a teenage boy living with an older woman (Ekman gets almost romance-novel smutty here, and elsewhere, actually), and the dissolution of a doctor's marriage (actually the easiest part to relate to). The novel's protagonist, Annie, is, frankly, rather strange, and I can't say I ever really understood her. It's an interesting choice that puts things a bit off-kilter, but I can't say it actually made the story more enjoyable.

So not much more to say about that one. I've begun Dead Until Dark, the first Sookie Stackhouse novel (on which the show True Blood is based, not that I've seen it yet). I'm hoping it's a good one, since reading two fairly mediocre books in a row is a pretty bad run, to me.

From McSweeney's: "From the Diary of John Adams"

The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epocha in the history of America. I am apt to believe that it will be celebrated by succeeding generations as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemorated as the day of deliverance, by solemn acts of devotion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and parade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illuminations, from one end of this continent to the other, from this time forward forevermore.

- John Adams

As promised, something lighter: "From the Diary of John Adams." Is it odd that, considering the essay clearly has little basis in fact, I still feel the need to point out that Sally Hemings was not born until around 1773, and thus clearly Thomas Jefferson was not having an affair with her in Philadelphia? Everything else I can take to be funny, yet I am too nerdy to let that slide.

Since I am on the subject of history, I might as well take the opportunity to be the millionth person in the world to recommend John Adams by David McCullough. I read it a couple of years ago and it was completely absorbing. Despite my college minor in history, my knowledge of the man had been largely gleaned from my repeated viewings of 1776 (which is actually remarkably accurate in many little details). John Adams really made me love him - for all his crotchetiness and bluster, he was just so human, so smart, and so true in his love for Abigail. Theirs is truly a story for the ages. The HBO miniseries is also pretty great, though the book is still superior.

In conclusion: Happy 2nd, Happy 4th, whichever you prefer. I'm almost finished with Blackwater, so I expect to be back to review that within the next couple of days as well.