Today was the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year, the day with the least daylight hours. In the western world they call it the first day of winter. (Maybe they should switch things around and mark Thanksgiving as the first day of winter, but that's just me.)
The downside? It only gets colder from here on out. We've already had a few days with temps in the minus fahrenheits. And there are only more such days to come in the next three months. No respite till March, certainly not up here in the vast desolation of the frozen tundra.
The upside? The days get longer. Minute by minute, they will get longer. And that is a huge upside. At least for me. Call me nuts, I still think the winter solstice should be celebrated as the start of a new year. What better marker than more daylight every day? The sun is out longer, the voices of angels in the air move from whisper to song... and there's definitely more cowbell on the horizon...
Monday, December 21, 2009
Saturday, December 19, 2009
A Piece of Auden
Saw “Four Weddings and a Funeral” last night again. (I couldn’t tell you how many times I’ve seen it, because I’ve lost count.) It was on Turner Classic Movies. Fitting, I think. It is a classic. Great writing, good performances, wonderful moments... the whole package.
The highlight of the movie for me is the scene in which the character Matthew (actor John Hannah), recites the poem “Funeral Blues” by W.H. Auden at the funeral of his partner Gareth. If you asked me for a list of favorite poems, this one would be among the top few. And Hannah’s recitation of it is outstanding. (Click on that link and read the poem as you listen to him.)
One would think this was written during moments of indescribable loss. There is speculation that Auden (Feb. 21, 1907 – Sept. 29, 1973) wrote this for a lost partner. However, the documented story is that this was written for the soprano Hedli Anderson and in fact had an earlier version, which was a parody of a poem mourning a politician and was written for a play. I guess we’ll never really know what spurred the poem. I’d like to think it was a good idea brilliantly executed.
On another note, have started reading next month’s book club read, “The Cellist of Sarajevo” by Steven Galloway. It’s turning out to be a good read. Let’s see how it ends up.
The highlight of the movie for me is the scene in which the character Matthew (actor John Hannah), recites the poem “Funeral Blues” by W.H. Auden at the funeral of his partner Gareth. If you asked me for a list of favorite poems, this one would be among the top few. And Hannah’s recitation of it is outstanding. (Click on that link and read the poem as you listen to him.)
Funeral Blues
by W.H. Auden
Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.
Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
Scribbling on the sky the message He Is Dead,
Put crêpe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.
He was my North, my South, my East and West,
My working week and my Sunday rest,
My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
I thought that love would last for ever: I was wrong.
The stars are not wanted now: put out every one;
Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun;
Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood.
For nothing now can ever come to any good.
One would think this was written during moments of indescribable loss. There is speculation that Auden (Feb. 21, 1907 – Sept. 29, 1973) wrote this for a lost partner. However, the documented story is that this was written for the soprano Hedli Anderson and in fact had an earlier version, which was a parody of a poem mourning a politician and was written for a play. I guess we’ll never really know what spurred the poem. I’d like to think it was a good idea brilliantly executed.
On another note, have started reading next month’s book club read, “The Cellist of Sarajevo” by Steven Galloway. It’s turning out to be a good read. Let’s see how it ends up.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Men's Fiction
Between keeping the dog out of trouble, cat 1 from licking at her sore and cat 2 from becoming a closet hermit (he sleeps in his cube in our closet... and I really should have thought more before naming the animals... I kind of like cat 1 and cat 2 but then it would have devolved into agonizing over which gets called 1 and which 2... I mean should the girl cat have been 1 and the boy cat 2 but that would be favoring the female or should boy cat have been 1 but that’s patriarchal... I’m rambling...)...
Let’s start that again.
Between keeping the pets happy and myself sane (and that’s a tough job in and of itself), I found this interesting site that calls itself the first and only journal devoted to men’s fiction – Bull: Fiction for Thinking Men. Now, they do confess to not knowing what exactly men’s fiction is and say that it’s probably got to do more with style than content. On their submissions guidelines they solicit stories that “address men's issues, span male perspectives, or otherwise appeal to a male audience.” They “love the off-color but still have some class... it ain’t the place for trash.”
Naturally, one is curious. So I took a look at their current issues online. All the authors appear to be men and most of the stories are definitely from the male perspective. And yet, some of them are stories that you could find anywhere, not necessarily only under “for men.”
Which begs the questions...
What DO men like to read when it comes to fiction?
Can women writers cater to this genre? Or would a woman writer’s name cause the male reader to interpret the writing as female-oriented despite content and style?
Think films for a second... chick flicks, bromances and out-and-out testosterone-filled action movies. An Ang Lee can direct a movie like “Sense and Sensibility” and interpret an inherently female mindset with sensitivity and accuracy and it’s not such a big deal. But when a Kathryn Bigelow directs an action movie (“The Hurt Locker,” “Near Dark,” “Point Break”) based entirely around men, it’s hailed as a great day for women directors.
Conversely, it seems that the literary world’s corridors of contemporary romance fiction are largely dominated by women and a lot of people seem to think men can’t write romance fiction as well as women can. The Telegraph of the U.K. had an interesting debate on the subject three years ago.
But back to the spark behind this particular post... men’s fiction.
Anyone out there have a take on this?
Let’s start that again.
Between keeping the pets happy and myself sane (and that’s a tough job in and of itself), I found this interesting site that calls itself the first and only journal devoted to men’s fiction – Bull: Fiction for Thinking Men. Now, they do confess to not knowing what exactly men’s fiction is and say that it’s probably got to do more with style than content. On their submissions guidelines they solicit stories that “address men's issues, span male perspectives, or otherwise appeal to a male audience.” They “love the off-color but still have some class... it ain’t the place for trash.”
Naturally, one is curious. So I took a look at their current issues online. All the authors appear to be men and most of the stories are definitely from the male perspective. And yet, some of them are stories that you could find anywhere, not necessarily only under “for men.”
Which begs the questions...
What DO men like to read when it comes to fiction?
Can women writers cater to this genre? Or would a woman writer’s name cause the male reader to interpret the writing as female-oriented despite content and style?
Think films for a second... chick flicks, bromances and out-and-out testosterone-filled action movies. An Ang Lee can direct a movie like “Sense and Sensibility” and interpret an inherently female mindset with sensitivity and accuracy and it’s not such a big deal. But when a Kathryn Bigelow directs an action movie (“The Hurt Locker,” “Near Dark,” “Point Break”) based entirely around men, it’s hailed as a great day for women directors.
Conversely, it seems that the literary world’s corridors of contemporary romance fiction are largely dominated by women and a lot of people seem to think men can’t write romance fiction as well as women can. The Telegraph of the U.K. had an interesting debate on the subject three years ago.
But back to the spark behind this particular post... men’s fiction.
Anyone out there have a take on this?
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
I'd Like to Thank...
I guess we all have something or the other to be thankful for (the millions of turkeys that made the ultimate sacrifice in the name of gastronomic pleasures aren't thankful, of course, but... you get my drift... and yes, for the record... I'm a vegetarian, but if you like turkey, go for it...)
Among the obvious: loving family and true friends; the grace of God for the roofs over our heads and the walls that keep the elements at bay; good health and the jobs that keep the home fires burning; the sun that warms and the moon and stars that light the dark nights; the dreams that spur us on and the ability to work hard that helps us realize them...
Among the not-so-obvious: the sweet old lady at the checkout counter and her bright, warm smile that makes even the worst day all better; warm puppies and loving cats (yes, they do exist); artists and musicians and the pictures and songs they create that remind us of all that is beautiful in this world; the young man who stopped and held the door open while a mother of four navigated her way out of the store; the weird and eccentric nutters, who can at times challenge our ways of thinking and help us see things differently, or help cement the way we think about things; the Internet; the summer and winter solstices; the four seasons (Vivaldi's, too); the earthy smell of the stables and horses; dry spices; the scent of lavender; the color maroon; sandalwood incense; a good conversation; warm sand; fresh snow; tylenol; coffee; dark chocolate... It's a long list...
What are you thankful for?
Among the obvious: loving family and true friends; the grace of God for the roofs over our heads and the walls that keep the elements at bay; good health and the jobs that keep the home fires burning; the sun that warms and the moon and stars that light the dark nights; the dreams that spur us on and the ability to work hard that helps us realize them...
Among the not-so-obvious: the sweet old lady at the checkout counter and her bright, warm smile that makes even the worst day all better; warm puppies and loving cats (yes, they do exist); artists and musicians and the pictures and songs they create that remind us of all that is beautiful in this world; the young man who stopped and held the door open while a mother of four navigated her way out of the store; the weird and eccentric nutters, who can at times challenge our ways of thinking and help us see things differently, or help cement the way we think about things; the Internet; the summer and winter solstices; the four seasons (Vivaldi's, too); the earthy smell of the stables and horses; dry spices; the scent of lavender; the color maroon; sandalwood incense; a good conversation; warm sand; fresh snow; tylenol; coffee; dark chocolate... It's a long list...
What are you thankful for?
Thursday, November 19, 2009
"This Big Dead End"
So, here's a scene from one of my favorite movies (yours too, go ahead, admit it...) that's been playing around in my head for a couple of weeks. If I can find a video clip, i'll upload it, but for now, try and remember the raw emotion of the moment when Meg Ryan was wailing and Billy Crystal was trying to listen:
Sally: And I’m gonna be 40.
Harry: When?
Sally: Someday.
Harry: In eight years.
Sally: But it’s there. It’s just sitting there like this big dead end. And it’s not the same for men. Charlie Chaplin had babies when he was 73.
Harry: Yeah, but he was too old to pick ‘em up.
Sally: And I’m gonna be 40.
Harry: When?
Sally: Someday.
Harry: In eight years.
Sally: But it’s there. It’s just sitting there like this big dead end. And it’s not the same for men. Charlie Chaplin had babies when he was 73.
Harry: Yeah, but he was too old to pick ‘em up.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
How Much of the Writer is in the Writing?
An anonymous commenter left an interesting question under one of my posts asking, “I wonder, how much of a writer writes about him or herself in their work.” I was going to comment below it in reply, but I think the question is actually interesting enough to devote a post or two to.
When you start writing, almost every instructor (or how-to book) tells you that the best place to start is to “write what you know.” I would love to be able to attribute that to someone famous, but the origins of that little pearl are unfortunately lost in the misty morass of humanity’s creative output (if you know who said that, please let me know).
Now, unless you’re a born Nobel laureate in literature, when you’re starting out it’s always good practice to write what you know because that’s the only way you can check on the authenticity of your writing voice. You know your subject, or the emotion or feeling behind the character you’re writing about, and so are more clearly able to express what you want the reader to experience. As you progress, though, and become more confident in your voice, imagination does begin to take over, especially when creating fiction. Writers develop situations and characters that are compelling or interesting to pursue.
And here’s where my answer to the commenter comes in. In some cases, like in autobiographical writing, it’s a no-brainer: Yes, it’s all about what the writer thinks and feels and goes through in life. When it’s a work of fiction, it’s entirely possible that there was a starting point in the author’s experience somewhere that led to the piece, a trigger point, or incidents in a writer’s life that he or she used to create a fictional story around. Margaret Mitchell, for instance, is said to have drawn from her encyclopedic knowledge of the Civil War era and some dramatic moments from her own life to create “Gone With the Wind.”
It’s also entirely possible that there was no such incident or experience that led to the creation of the piece of fiction a writer has created. I’m quite sure that JRR Tolkien, for instance, didn’t actually come into contact with brave little hobbits and magnificent ents or time travel to some mythical past to scale treacherous mountains and wade through murky swamps before he wrote “The Lord of the Rings.” And Dame Agatha Christie wasn’t actually involved in the alarming numbers and types of crimes she has written about in her books. For more examples, delve into any amount of pulp fiction, crime noir, historical romances, etcetera.
And yet from the reader’s perspective, understandably there are pieces of writing that seem to reflect a writer’s deep personal experience. The only way to find out, though, is to come out and ask. Will you get an answer? It depends on the writer.
As I wrote in a past post, I like the response Don McLean gave when asked what American Pie means.
“You will find many interpretations of my lyrics but none of them by me… sorry to leave you all on your own like this but long ago I realized that songwriters should make their statements and move on, maintaining a dignified silence.”
When you start writing, almost every instructor (or how-to book) tells you that the best place to start is to “write what you know.” I would love to be able to attribute that to someone famous, but the origins of that little pearl are unfortunately lost in the misty morass of humanity’s creative output (if you know who said that, please let me know).
Now, unless you’re a born Nobel laureate in literature, when you’re starting out it’s always good practice to write what you know because that’s the only way you can check on the authenticity of your writing voice. You know your subject, or the emotion or feeling behind the character you’re writing about, and so are more clearly able to express what you want the reader to experience. As you progress, though, and become more confident in your voice, imagination does begin to take over, especially when creating fiction. Writers develop situations and characters that are compelling or interesting to pursue.
And here’s where my answer to the commenter comes in. In some cases, like in autobiographical writing, it’s a no-brainer: Yes, it’s all about what the writer thinks and feels and goes through in life. When it’s a work of fiction, it’s entirely possible that there was a starting point in the author’s experience somewhere that led to the piece, a trigger point, or incidents in a writer’s life that he or she used to create a fictional story around. Margaret Mitchell, for instance, is said to have drawn from her encyclopedic knowledge of the Civil War era and some dramatic moments from her own life to create “Gone With the Wind.”
It’s also entirely possible that there was no such incident or experience that led to the creation of the piece of fiction a writer has created. I’m quite sure that JRR Tolkien, for instance, didn’t actually come into contact with brave little hobbits and magnificent ents or time travel to some mythical past to scale treacherous mountains and wade through murky swamps before he wrote “The Lord of the Rings.” And Dame Agatha Christie wasn’t actually involved in the alarming numbers and types of crimes she has written about in her books. For more examples, delve into any amount of pulp fiction, crime noir, historical romances, etcetera.
And yet from the reader’s perspective, understandably there are pieces of writing that seem to reflect a writer’s deep personal experience. The only way to find out, though, is to come out and ask. Will you get an answer? It depends on the writer.
As I wrote in a past post, I like the response Don McLean gave when asked what American Pie means.
“You will find many interpretations of my lyrics but none of them by me… sorry to leave you all on your own like this but long ago I realized that songwriters should make their statements and move on, maintaining a dignified silence.”
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
Checking In...
Ah, well... it's been a while. After a busy, somewhat harrowing first 10 days of the month, things are finally settling down. For those in the loop... we finally decided to get only one puppy. And so Frodo it is. Needless to say, he's an adorable, energetic, willful and playful little hooligan. I could go on and on, but I'll save everyone the sap. Photos will in all likelihood follow soon.
And oh, before I sign off, if you're an Aerosmith fan and were worried that Steven Tyler was going to quit the band (yes, rock news was apparently rife with rumors allegedly started by guitarist Joe Perry), you can breathe. Tyler, it seems, was back on stage with Perry at Fillmore New York and was quite vehement that he was not intending to quit the band. Phew. Close call. Certainly made the book of small spats, this one did.
And oh, before I sign off, if you're an Aerosmith fan and were worried that Steven Tyler was going to quit the band (yes, rock news was apparently rife with rumors allegedly started by guitarist Joe Perry), you can breathe. Tyler, it seems, was back on stage with Perry at Fillmore New York and was quite vehement that he was not intending to quit the band. Phew. Close call. Certainly made the book of small spats, this one did.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
Music of Me
Ever since I can remember, I’ve always tried to have an open mind about different genres of the arts. It could be openness towards different kinds of music, or reading different kinds of books... always tried to be inclusive as opposed to exclusive. And I'm always a little amazed when people refuse certain types of books or music in their lives or say they “hate” certain kinds of music or books or art or what have you. Like detesting the opera or hating rap or never reading science fiction to the point where it becomes a passionate revulsion.
Maybe it’s just a problem with the word “hate” and the sense of intolerance harbored therein (pointing, of course, to my intolerance of intolerance, but that’s leading me down a road I don’t much care to walk on tonight, so I’ll get to the point I thought of to begin with).
The reason I mentioned being open to different kinds of the arts was actually in reference to my music collection. Have you noticed that no matter how large a collection you have, you land up defaulting to a few select albums when you do listen to music? It definitely happens to me. Of late, especially when I’m in the car and going somewhere I know is going to take me at least half an hour to get to (not hard out here in the sticks), I find myself wanting to listen to Coldplay’s “Viva La Vida (Prospekt’s March Edition),” the soundtrack to “Across the Universe,” Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Chronicle, Vol. 1” or Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now.” At home it’s either the sacred Hindu chants of the Guru Gita and the Rudram or the soundtrack to the 2005 “Pride and Prejudice.” Before this the top favs were the soundtrack to “Pulp Fiction,” Sting’s “Brand New Day,” U2’s “The Best of 1980-1990,” collections from The Buddha Bar... I could go on, but you get the point.
It’s not that I don’t want to hear those songs any more. It’s just that for the moment I’m kind of happy swimming in the tunes that I do hear. Almost like if you listened closely, you will find some bits of me in each of these albums or songs, the bits of me that are in play currently, so to speak.
Make sense?
Maybe it’s just a problem with the word “hate” and the sense of intolerance harbored therein (pointing, of course, to my intolerance of intolerance, but that’s leading me down a road I don’t much care to walk on tonight, so I’ll get to the point I thought of to begin with).
The reason I mentioned being open to different kinds of the arts was actually in reference to my music collection. Have you noticed that no matter how large a collection you have, you land up defaulting to a few select albums when you do listen to music? It definitely happens to me. Of late, especially when I’m in the car and going somewhere I know is going to take me at least half an hour to get to (not hard out here in the sticks), I find myself wanting to listen to Coldplay’s “Viva La Vida (Prospekt’s March Edition),” the soundtrack to “Across the Universe,” Creedence Clearwater Revival’s “Chronicle, Vol. 1” or Joni Mitchell’s “Both Sides Now.” At home it’s either the sacred Hindu chants of the Guru Gita and the Rudram or the soundtrack to the 2005 “Pride and Prejudice.” Before this the top favs were the soundtrack to “Pulp Fiction,” Sting’s “Brand New Day,” U2’s “The Best of 1980-1990,” collections from The Buddha Bar... I could go on, but you get the point.
It’s not that I don’t want to hear those songs any more. It’s just that for the moment I’m kind of happy swimming in the tunes that I do hear. Almost like if you listened closely, you will find some bits of me in each of these albums or songs, the bits of me that are in play currently, so to speak.
Make sense?
Saturday, October 24, 2009
Lampson Falls and a 6S Entry
Cloudy, gray and rainy up in the north country here today, but we sallied forth nonetheless, hoping for a break in the weather, which we got, mercifully. It's the tail end of the fall, so the colors are not quite as brilliant, but still, we managed to catch a few good scenic views. Lampson Falls lies on the west edge of the Adirondack preserve and, according to the Department of Environmental Conservation, boasts a drop of about 100 feet. Corny as it sounds, I have to say that it was hard not to disregard the "Last of the Mohicans" theme going round and round in my head as we walked the short but rather beautiful trail to the falls. Enjoy the photos. Note: Clicking on the slideshow will take you to the Picasa page, where you can see larger photos.
On another note, one more 6S entry was used today. Check it out if you're interested.
On another note, one more 6S entry was used today. Check it out if you're interested.
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