Forging an Art

Just posted at Bookspotcentral.

When I get my hands on these graphic novels, the world stops.  It doesn’t take long to get lost in the Dark Tower series, with Furth’s articulate adaptation (which at times surpasses King’s original – yes, I am inviting trouble, nothing new) and Lee and Isanove’s delicately horrific art.  This may be a fantasy, but much of the time feels all too real.  Cuthbert, pants down, caught unawares by the stubborn Aileen, reminds us that these characters are children, teenagers nowhere near maturity, caught up in a history and tradition that has made them grow up all too soon.  Those moments – and how can readers not laugh at Bert, mouth open, drawers down, with the serious girl behind him, as we imagine her rolling those eyes at the silliness of boys, as teenage girls do – make us suspend any disbelief we may have in the fantastic, for even in this alternate world, these men, women, and children love, hate, and fear just as we do.

My nine year old was rather disturbed by Gaiman and Grimly‘s “piratical ghost story.”  This is an expected (well, it is Gaiman after all) treat with “a large number of extremely dangerous trolls, monsters, bugbears, creatures, and other such nastiness” as well as “a dangerous flaw” left for the reader to discover.  Of course, there is no mistaking Neverwhere; the frightening city beneath the city, and children who find this suited to their taste will surely grow into the amazing Neverwhere tale.

This is the best of the best, according to The Science Fiction and Fantasy Writers of America.  I love these collections but sometimes wonder about the selection process.  I find very few pieces of great merit and think, well, if this is really the best of the past year, the genre(s) are in a bit of trouble.  It is a matter of taste, clearly, and is quite subjective, and my tastes in both SF and F are very particular.  I admit that I didn’t read the nonfiction entries because I had no interest; and much of the rest was marginally entertaining.  I smiled, however, as I read on the treadmill, fan at my back, and stumbled on Unique Chicken Goes in Reverse by Andy Duncan.  I knew, of course, who and what the story would concern, and in this case, the truth was and is stranger than fiction.  I do think it would have been better off ending with the pecking, instead of the shift to a future MFOC and her years later reminder of the incident, but it was still the best of the lot.

Highlights of the WVU trip last week:

*Woolson people are wonderful, aside from the politics, of course – but I am used to that.  Thanks to all for their advice and support for my Jewett paper, which actually arose from recommendations by James, with whom I disagreed (very guiltily) and thus the essay was born. 

*Of course the cemetery in Clarksburg is predominantly Italian, with an occasional Polish family and one Hebrew gravestone.  My mom and I were happy to find her grandparents amongst the spaghetti benders, and I earned my first sunburn of the year traipsing barefoot through the enormous length of the property.  Lunch at Oliverio’s in Bridgeport was amazing – fettucine alfredo done right, but I would expect nothing less.

*Lemon gelato at Tutto Gelato on High Street in Morgantown. 

*West Virginia shrimp at the Hotel Morgan?

*The bellhop/valet was reading American Psycho every time we approached the door.  He seemed like a nice enough kid, but you never know.

*I admit to the pawnshop attraction, but contrary to popular belief, I was not looking for guns.  I have a very nice gun shop within walking distance of home, thank you very much.

I didn’t make it all the way through this one.  This rarely happens – I do not like to waste any time invested in a book, and am a fairly good judge of whether or not it will be worth my time, to any extent.  I mentioned a few posts ago the great Joyce Carol Oates quote regarding deliberate use of material – everything must mean something – and this author – Arthur Phillips – flaunts that directive, or, um, shall I say, advice, to the detriment of his story.  Speaking of the story, I am not sure exactly what it is.  There’s a man who listens to music, and he cheats on his wife until she gets pregnant, then their son dies as a toddler, and they break up, she cheats on him, he finds an Irish girl singer and stalks her, after a fashion, and I couldn’t have cared less after that.  He has a brother who has some issues with social skills and seems to have no business in the book at all.  A Mary Sue, if you will.  The business about his Jeopardy fiasco – seems like one of many silly things the author thought would fit into the story, along with many popular culture references.  This isn’t so much a novel as a collection of such references stuffed alongside characters who aren’t fully developed and thus inspire no interest.  Regardless, he is a bestselling author and this is in high demand, so he must be doing something right for someone, so good luck to him.

Sarah MacLean’s debut is just the thing for those girls who have been sneaking peeks at Mother’s regency romances, but aren’t quite ready for some of the more adult themes and details many of them carry.  Three friends enter the social season together, determined to maintain their independence in spite of the pressure to marry the best prospect as soon as possible.  Meanwhile, a Stephanie Laurens-esque mystery, replete with murder motivated by treason, greed, and jealousy, keeps the story, and romance, brewing.  My only issue - Alex’s lady’s maid, Eliza, has a strange accent that comes and goes.  Is it an Essex (as one might expect, considering the setting and facts of Eliza’s upbringing) accent, and if so, why does it follow only certain trends of such an accent, and not others?

I read this in one evening, bowl of popcorn and large, warm cat friend at hand, and went to sleep with pleasant, Austen-inspired dreams.  Here’s to hoping Ms. MacLean lets readers in on events that lead to the happy marriages of the other two heroines left single at the end of this title.

Joyce Carol Oates always terrifies me (have I written that somewhere already?) so I am always on guard, anxious but excited, as I hold a new publication in hand – it is much like standing in line at the Millennium Force, blood rushing down into my toes, smiling and trembling at the same time.  I know that afterwards, my head will feel scrambled, and I will stumble down the steps and maybe even fall, as I did last summer; and with Oates, I know she will lead me somewhere that I may fall and stumble blindly towards that which I know to bring me out and away.  Obviously, some of her work is stronger and more influential than others, depending on the reader’s experience and expectations.  As the parent of an autistic child, I was particularly moved by Special, in which a younger daughter watches as her family is victimized by her developmentally disabled older sister, and the parents wrestle with their identities as parents, as a couple, and as individuals in search of hope for themselves and their children.  A Princeton Idyll takes that sharp rollercoaster turn when a former maid reveals too much too well to the idealistic granddaughter of a deceased logician.  One looks at the fragile photo on the back flap of the book jacket and wonders how that same temperate-looking creature can explore so well the terrifying workings of the mind.  She is both brave and brilliant, but does not seem to find anything extraordinary about herself. 

When discussing the short stories and novells I have been reading in the Nebula Awards Showcase 2009 – which features some fascinating work but also some with which I had some issues, both as a writer and a reader – I mentioned to my former husband, who is a sci fi/fantasy aficionado himself, that the work that failed to speak to me stood out as that which had unnecessaries, as I refer to them, bits that are not important.  If it is there, it had better be important.  During an interview with the Washington Post several years ago, Oates was asked about this exact phenomenon, and her response: There should really not be anything gratuitous in a work of art.  I smiled as I read that, thinking that there may be hope for me, as a writer, yet, to have something in common with such a great artist.

Yes, I am a former ballet student and always a fan of dance, but this movie was a wonderful adaptation of the Streatfield novel whether you love dance or not.  Obviously geared towards young girls, this clearly has no appeal for boys, but girls will understand and appreciate the range of emotions involved in the relationship between the three adopted daughters as they struggle to find their roles within the family and on the stage.  My nine year old daughter – who is a dancer herself – wasn’t as intrigued by the movie as I was, maybe because of the time period in which it is set (1930s).  It is a vibrant coming of age story with all the rescue elements – yes, even in the midst of hard work on the part of the girls and their guardians, who are female as well – that make a lovely fairy tale.

 ”Clyde had a soul that was not destined to grow up.”

It has been nearly 85 years since Theodore Dreiser’s greatest success was published, but the infantile and selfish motives behind Clyde Griffiths’ behavior have run rampant since the beginning of time, so An American Tragedy will always carry an appeal to those of us interested in psychological drama.  Much like the title character of the author’s rather boring Sister Carrie, Clyde is incapable of considering others within his view of the world.  When his deeds carry harm to those around him, in particular those who trust and care about him, he shrugs and thinks, why should he care?  The young woman he seduces, sweet-talking her into actions she would never consider on her own, is discarded like dirty laundry when he discovers something, or someone better – Sondra, who is like “a bright colored bird.”  Her father’s fortune and the family’s carefree, expensive lifestyle are a large part of the attraction.  Clyde is one of those people who want something, everything, for nothing, and feels a sense of entitlement to it.  Why him and not others?  Who knows. 

Raised by street evangelists, he hates poverty and labor and begrudges the insinuation that he should work for his supper.  An unwanted pregnancy leads him to contemplate the unthinkable – but for Clyde, there is no unthinkable.  He can and does rationalize every sort of behavior in the name of serving his own desires. 

The book, which is long but riveting, is considerably different from the pretty 1951 Hollywood film, A Place in the Sun, directed by George Stevens and starring Elizabeth Taylor, Montgomery Clift, and Shelley Winters.   The movie is heavy on the second half of the book, obviously due to time constraints, but there are details that change characters and relationships to an almost unrecognizable extent.  Clyde is not so cold in person, the handsome face of Montgomery Clift not so easily condemned as the Clyde of the vast explication at the hands of Dreiser.  He is immature, but murderous?  It isn’t so clear; and neither is the vapid nature of Sondra, who is called Angela in the film, and carried regally by the glorious Taylor.  Angela visits Clyde in prison, where he awaits his death, while in the book, Sondra and Clyde never see each other again after his arrest.  Angela takes pains to have access to her love and to reassure him of her affections; Sondra never would have compromised herself in such a way. 

There is a disturbing Oedipal situation between Clyde and his mother in the film, while Dresier alludes to nothing of the sort.  If, in my close reading, I have missed it, then it is so carefully hidden as to not attract the attention it does in the film.  Clyde’s mother is strangely nervous during phone conversations, admonishing him to be good, which she does in the book but still seems bizarrely unnatural doing so in the film.  Before Clyde kisses Angela for the first time, Taylor gazes lovingly, obsessively at Clift and croons, “Tell Mama all.”   This brief moment was a huge shift in tone from the book, and what I would assume, Dreiser’s intent.  That aside, it is shocking and strange. 

Winters, who does not have a glamorous part, absolutely steals the show from Taylor and Clift with her fussy, annoying Alice.  Yes, Roberta is a crabby creature in the novel, but understandably so.  Roberta is a girl true to her principles and her family, and her fall from grace and concern for her future lead her to badger Clyde for help and fulfillment of promises made and ignored.  Alice, the Roberta of the film, is dull and whiny, and one can imagine how Clyde could wish her harm, although not necessarily how he could perpetuate murder on the girl and his unborn child.  The camera angled from Clyde’s point of view as she harasses him, focusing on her monotonous, perpetual questions (“You wish I was dead, don’t you?”) is enough to make the audience scream in frustration, but one doesn’t deserve a death sentence for annoying behavior.

Forget Sister Carrie; readers turned off by Miss Meeber will find a meaty scandal in the pages of Tragedy and lustrous color wash of Sun.  Read first, watch second – the details make interesting detective work for discerning readers and viewers.

Publisher’s previews for July 2009, courtesy of Romantic Times Book Reviews:

Chick Lit:
Coplin, Kira. Pop Tart
Dean, Zoey. Hollywood is Like High School With Money

Contemporary:
Andersen, Susan. Bending the Rules
Bond, Stephanie, et. al. Sand, Sun . . . Seduction!
Dahl, Victoria. Start Me Up
Langtry, Leslie. I Shot You Babe
Leigh, Lora, et. al. Real Men Last All Night
Mallery, Susan. Straight From the Hip
Maynard, Janice. Mating Game
Shalvis, Jill. Double Play
Shalvis, Jill. Instant Gratification
Shepherd, Kandy. Love is a Four-Legged Word

Erotica:
Betts, Lucinda. What She Wants
Carew, Opal. Secret Ties
Devlin, Delilah. Darkness Burning
Douglas, Kate. Wolf Tales VIII
Evans, Anna J. Skin Deep
Harper, Vonna, et. al. Tempted by a Cowboy
Hart, Megan. Deeper
Lee, Deanna. Games Girls Play
McCarty, Sarah. Wild Instinct

Fantasy:
Mills, K.E. Witches Incorporated

Historical:
Allen, Louise. The Disgraceful Mr. Ravenhurst
Blayney, Mary. Stranger’s Kiss
Brisbin, Terri. The Conqueror’s Lady
Busbee, Shirlee. Surrender Becomes Her
Cameron, Deanna. The Belly Dancer
Chase, Loretta. Don’t Tempt Me
Cornick, Nicola. The Scandals of an Innocent
Duran, Meredith. Bound by Your Touch
Foley, Gaelen. My Wicked Marquess
Garlock, Dorothy. The Moon Looked Down
Grange, Amanda. Colonel Brandon’s Diary
Gray, Allegra. Nothing But Scandal
Healey, Judith Koll. The Rebel Princess
Heath, Lorraine. Surrender to the Devil
Henke, Shirl. Chosen Woman
Jeffries, Sabrina. Wed Him Before You Bed Him
Kalogridis, Jeanne. The Devil’s Queen
Kayne, Stacey. Mountain Wild
Lejeune, Tamara. The Heiress in His Bed
Mallory, Anne. For the Earl’s Pleasure
Mallory, Margaret. Knight of Desire
Marcos, Michelle. Wickedly Ever After
Maxwell, Cathy, et. al. Four Dukes and a Devil
Merrill, Christine. A Wicked Liaison
Putney, Mary Jo. Loving a Lost Lord
Quinn, Julia. What Happens in London
Rice, Patricia. Mystic Warrior
Rickloff, Alix. Dangerous as Sin
Rubenhold, Hallie. The Lady in Red
Scott, Amanda. Tamed by a Laird
Scott, Susan Holloway. The French Mistress
Smith, Bobbi. Runaway
Wells, Christine. Wicked Little Game
Williamson, Beth. The Redemption of Micah

Inspirational:
Smith, Debra White. Texas Heat

Mainstream Fiction:
Carter, Mary. Sunnyside Blues
Frank, Dorothea Benton. Return to Sullivan’s Island
Harbison, Beth. Hope in a Jar
Monroe, Mary Alice. Last Light Over Carolina
Morsi, Pamela. Red’s Hot Honky-Tonk Bar
Page, Jean Reynolds. The Last Summer of Her Other Life
Porter, Jane. Easy on the Eyes
Richards, Emilie. Happiness Key
Sheehan, Jacqueline. Now & Then
Valdes-Rodriguez, Alisa. The Husband Habit
Wingate, Lisa. The Summer Kitchen

Mystery:
Alt, Madelyn. Where There’s a Witch
Blackwell, Juliet. Secondhand Spirits
Bowen, Rhys. Royal Flush
Connolly, Sheila. Rotten to the Core
Howell, Dorothy. Purses and Poison
McGee, Chaz. Desolate Angel
Olson, Karen E. The Missing Ink

Paranormal:
Burton, Jaci. Taken by Sin
Day, Alyssa. Atlantis Unmasked
Eden, Cynthia. Midnight’s Master
Feehan, Christine. Hidden Currents
Finn, Lucy. Best Wishes Always
Frank, Jacquelyn. Rapture
Graham, Heather. Dust to Dust
Havens, Candace. Dragons Prefer Blondes
Holly, Emma. Breaking Midnight
Kane, Tammy. Breath of Fire
Madison, Tracy. A Stroke of Magic
O’Shea, Patti. Edge of Dawn
Palmer, Pamela. Desire Untamed
Raye, Kimberly. Sucker for Love
Showalter, Gena. Seduce the Darkness
Singh, Nalini. Branded by Fire

Romantic Suspense:
Brady, Kate. One Scream Away
Christofferson, April. Alpha Female
Freethy, Barbara. Suddenly One Summer
Howard, Linda. Burn
Johnston, Joan. Outcast
Neggers, Carla. The Mist
Parrish, Leslie. Fade to Black
Reece, Christy. Run to Me
Roberts, Nora. Black Hills
Ross, JoAnn. Breakpoint
Rowe, Stephanie. Ice
Webb, Debra. Everywhere She Turns

Suspense:
Adler, Elizabeth. There’s Something About St. Tropez
Caldwell, Laura. Red Blooded Murder
Hinze, Vicki. Kill Zone
Johanse, Iris and Roy. Storm Cycle
Martin, P.D. Fan Mail

Time Travel:
Montgomerie, Pamela. Sapphire Dream