Not to be confused with Stephen King's Dreamcatcher, though, strangely enough, I received both books at the same exact time (also a copy of Gone With the Wind and a giant book of quotes, but shush).
This is the memoir of JD Salinger's daughter. Her memoir, though I picked it because I saw the name and was like JD SALINGER'S DAUGHTER WROTE A BOOK ABOUT HIM. I know what a memoir is, but come on, let's be real, probably almost all of the people who bought this book bought it for that reason. Prior to the halfway point I actually got rather agitated because she was talking so much about herself. Sorry. Once I remembered that the words "memoir" were on the cover though, I got over it. Also, JD Salinger wasn't a great father, so there's a point where you kind of want to push him out of the way. He didn't beat his kids or anything like that, but he refused to give them real medicine even when they were dangerously ill (homeopathic meds are always a good idea), let them stay with their mother who was unstable--he suspected her of burning their house down (as did Margaret herself), kind of peaced out on showing up for parental events like graduations and such (though he almost went to Woodstock--it's too bad he changed his mind. Can you imagine??), kind of was a messianic guy (or at least his daughter likens him to a cult leader, drawing women in and kind of breaking them down. I kept on thinking of Ken Kesey and the Mountain Girl, or whatever her name was, from The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. In any case, it was an interesting comparison.) and so on. It wasn't--I don't like calling it neglect, but it was bad parenting.
Anyways. It's a memoir. Do I need to say more? Most of my complaints/comments came early on when I was still like "TALK ABOUT YOUR DAD MORE"--or comments. He was an interesting guy (JD Salinger died in 2010). The bad parenting or less than pretty picture of him didn't really make me question my life or personal heroes or anything like that--he's not one of them. That sounds mean, but what I'm trying to say is, I'm not idolizing him over Catcher in the Rye. As you can see, the second reading of the book didn't even end up that well. When you're fifteen or sixteen, the book is your little teen angst Bible, and when you're eighteen, after a while you just want to shut Holden up. (Actually, this makes me want to reread Franny and Zooey really badly, because I liked that twice as much as I ever did Catcher.) It did weird me about a little because there's something about JD Salinger's face that reminds me of Jack Kerouac. (They have the same haircut, actually.) So at times the image in my head of this person acting this way was Kerouac, and it was like "No, no, no--that's not right. Not at all."
The first thing that worried me is that her introduction starts off with tons of quotes, poems, song lyrics, etc. Immediately I got worried, because that's like rubbing it in someone's face that you're ridiculously educated (sure enough, she is--I don't even know what an M.Phil is). Such annoying (and often seemingly unneeded) interludes became scarcer and scarcer as she moved away from the subject of her father, however.
The second thing that got me were the footnotes. She berates a biographer of her father's very rudely--apparently her father had the nickname Sonny since childhood. This biographer mistakenly said that he got the nickname in ninth grade, given to him by his friends. "Ian Hamilton... claimed that it was at the McBurney school... that 'he was nicknamed "Sonny" by his chums, perhaps with a hint of sarcasm.' Please, chums? On the West Side of Manhattan, perhaps? Several of my dad's army buddies in the foxholes and bloody battlefields of World War II were referred to, by the same scholar, as his colleagues. 'Let me confer with my colleagues, Rocco,' Jerry said. 'Oh, Rocco, would you be so kind as to pass the ammo?' 'Right-o, Sonny old chum,' Rocco expostulated laconically... I can't stand it" (Salinger 17). So the guy screwed up on something! Sorry he didn't have the advantage of being born in your family. Hell, there's a whole year where no-one (to this day, apparently) knows where Salinger (JD) went, after Margaret's mother refused to drop out of school to marry him. Also, sorry he uses admittedly odd phrasing like chums and colleagues. Maybe it's a little old-fashioned, but it's not like the guy just threw HP Lovecraft call-words in there. And what's with her little sarcastic reverie at the end there? No need to get bitchy. Just state that he was incorrect and move on. Jeez. (I don't know why this annoys me so much, but it makes me very mad.)
My next note was on another footnote that annoyed me--she explains a Hindu concept as being like excommunication, or "the WASP favorite, disowning or disinheriting, but more to the bone" (Salinger 23). For some reason this made me mad (because I am a WASP, maybe? That's honestly the only explanation I can make for my reaction...)--because only WASPs disinherit or disown? Yeah okay. She could just say "or disowning or disinheriting". Again, I don't know why this agitated me so. (Perhaps it would help to mention that I am PMSing and all my irrational moods and acts are ten times more so?) In any case, the concept she's trying to describe--sitting shiva
My next bit is quick--Margaret recalls that at the time her father was writing Catcher, he told a friend that he was writing an autobiographical work at the time. Also, this book is--before I forget--very heavy in drawing connections between Salinger and his characters, predominantly in the first half of the book. That was very interesting, and made me wish I had bothered to read more of Salinger's works before reading this. On the plus side, I'm all inspired to read Nine Stories now. (If I can find a nice copy--I've never seen a library copy of any Salinger book that didn't look like it had been gnawed on. One time Wallingford had a nice, almost-new copy of Catcher, which would have been perfect if some idiot teenage girl hadn't wrote "I [heart] Gerard Way" [with a real heart, not an HTML heart] on the cover. Ugh. Help.) It's interesting because Holden is definitely autobiographical--I've never really had a doubt about that. Franny and Zooey, however, seemed like a logical procession of thought (at least at the time), more than an illustration of the inner personal mechanisms of a mind.
Oh, I also thought that it was interesting that Salinger left his wife (Margaret's mother--apparently Salinger had a very extensive list of lady friends over the years--where/how did he meet them all!?) after he discovered she was pregnant. Despite the fact that he loved kids, he got disturbed and... I don't want to use the phrase "grossed out", but I don't have all those fancy degrees, so I am. This is also the popular explanation for why Oscar Wilde only had two children, and why Elvis only had one. Also, is it too early to mention that Salinger also reminds me of a demented Atticus Finch? Like, he seems like he would be a really good, awesome dad from certain descriptions by Margaret, and then it's like haha, just kidding. Like if Atticus Finch was anything less than the perfection that he is. I love Atticus Finch.
Oh yeah, apparently JD wrote a short story entitled "For Esme--with Love and Squalor". Immediately I thought of A Series of Unfortunate Events--Remember Count Olaf's girlfriend... Esme Squalor? What's uuuup. And don't even be like, "but Angela, it's just simple word association!", because there's is no way it's not. Lemony Snicket (wait, is it cool to call him Dan Handler now? Is that cat out of the bag? I've also seen his face before. Do people still wonder about that?) was a smart guy and definitely did do that on purpose. It is 100% fact now.* Also, this led to a half-hour researching frenzy on the series, which I used to be obsessed with, but, oddly enough, did not survive rereading either. I looked at the Wikipedia page for the first book, though, and felt the same feeling when I first picked it off the shelf and looked at the picture on the inside and everything. Man.
(Also, my cousin met Dan Handler. What.)
Margaret also mentions that in one of her father's stories, a boy named Seymour throws a rock at a beautiful girl, permanently destroying her beauty in the form of a scar on her forehead. (Make your own Harry Potter joke here.) She says that she didn't quite understand it, though all the characters in the story did. The closest she came to understanding it is when her son was two and they would hug and cuddle and all of a sudden he would hit her. I think I kind of understand it (in a different way). I think it's like Fight Club, when the narrator says that he wants to destroy everything beautiful that he could never have or hope to have. He couldn't have it, so he didn't want to be reminded of it, and he wanted to punish the people who did have it. Of course, I haven't actually read the JD Salinger story, so take that with a grain of salt....
Oh, and Margaret related an event that again, reminded me of To Kill a Mockingbird. They lived in the country--obviously--and at one point one of the known poor kids gets his tooth knocked out at school. Margaret's mother took the child to the dentist, where the nurse there asked her "'Why'ja bother? All them Courdelaines lose their teeth anyways'" (Salinger 139). She then tells them to just go home. It's a superficial connection, but it was kind of like how Scout knew everything about all the families. These kids were the white trash, this family was poor but they paid back every penny given to them no matter how long it took, et cetera.
Oh, and very young (I want to say seven or eight?) Margaret broke her arm. I thought I was going to die laughing--wait for it--: "Some idiot moved my arm to place it on the X-ray plate. Screaming agony. They did it an eternal hell number of times. I had a compound fracture: one bone was splintered, the other was sticking out and covered with dirt. A mask came over my face. Some nurse, with a cheery stewardess voice, actually asked me to count! Jesus. Now?" (Salinger 169). Obviously it was just that last part that I thought funny--the rest of it is kind of gross. But that reaction cracked me up.
Oh, and when the parent Salingers decided to get divorced, Margaret explains it to her brother, including this: "'They both love you. They just hate each other'" (Salinger 205). Again, hilarious, though maybe I'm a bad person for thinking that. (But I wish someone had explained it to me like that!)
JD Salinger's advice to his daughter on marriage: "'Make sure you marry someone who laughs at the same things you do'" (Salinger 226).
I think the major change in my opinion on Margaret came when she was talking about her crush on Paul McCartney. No, Paul isn't my favourite Beatle, but she imagined kissing, or going to kiss him, while he sang "All My Loving", which just so happens to be my favourite Beatles song. Touche.
Oh, and Margaret went to a boarding school. I can't say I liked this part--the only time I've ever seen a boarding school portrayed in a way that wasn't terrible was in a Mary-Kate and Ashley book--but it was familiar. The first memoir I ever read was Roald Dahl's, then James Joyce's, and... Okay, there's basically no school ever in Running With Scissors. But at least Margaret didn't get caned, or beaten with a pandybat! (Or have to fag for the older children. Ugh.) There was some intense psychological abuse from the headmistress in Margaret's case, like Captain Hardcastle, but... Well, without the caning. But just as scary and awful. Her letters were also censored, which I was surprised when she found out and was surprised by that fact. (Well, Boy wasn't even published then, to be fair.) I was half-expecting to see examples of such letters in the following pages in the same manner as Dahl's--with the same explanation for their being there, her mother kept them and bound them all in green ribbon... But no such luck. And yes, I did read that book about a million times as a kid, okay??
Oh, JD Salinger was also apparently invested in orgone boxes. (Look them up for yourself. I can't really give a good, concise explanation of what they are, but they're basically supposed to fill you with good energy or whatever. It's super homeopathic. [Sort of] Big in the fifties.) The only reason why I mention it is because... So was William S Burroughs! Yay! Kerouac mentions it in the original version of On the Road (I can't vouch for the shorter version, though...).
Oh, and she never mentions the murder of John Lennon. Skips right to 1982. Granted, it's not necessarily something you would want to mention, "My dad's book caused John Lennon's murder and somebody to take potshots at Ronald Reagan!", but it's one hell of an elephant in the room. (And it's strange too, considering the things she does choose to write about. It couldn't be any worse than some of the other things she chronicles...) I wonder if JD Salinger even knew? He had to have known, though, even if he was a recluse. I mean, come on. John Lennon. He knew who he was, he made a vague promise to introduce John to Margaret by way of his publisher or something that never came to fruition... I never thought about it before this, but I'd really like to read up on Salinger's reaction to John Lennon's death.
Margaret eventually has a fight with her father, and her father's policy is pretty much, make me mad and we're done. They had a few fights prior to this where he promised her that he would still love her, but he'd be done with communicating with her. That's a harsh policy especially when applied to your daughter. Margaret said that that was the last "real" conversation she had with her father, so I imagine they talk, but small talk, stranger talk. That's too bad--I wonder if they reconciled at all before his death... Anyways, she talks about how students who had read the book would try to find him--one such girl interviewed said that she'd ask him "'if he'll be our catcher, our catcher in the rye'" (Salinger 427). Margaret couples this with the fact that she felt like one of those children running alone in the rye, and that her father simply wouldn't be a catcher. He couldn't, and his raising and treatment of her (and her brother) kind of proved that. He'd like to save, but he simply didn't have that ability for this or that reason. The irony makes me a little queasy.
Okay, one last comment on the book itself. Margaret occasionally copies her father's tendency to emphasize random parts of words. I always find myself saying such words over and over in Salinger's books, trying to figure out the point of a certain emphasis is, or even if such an emphasis could flow naturally. I found myself doing the same thing in this. And no, they rarely seemed to flow naturally or have a point. If the whole word was emphasized, or even two syllables together instead of the odd one... Uuuuuugh.
I don't really have a comment on whether this book was good or bad. I don't feel comfortable judging a memoir in such terms. It was interesting, and at times very eerie or difficult to read--but still interesting. It's too bad that she is nearly overshadowed by the fact that her father was JD Salinger, but she pulls through, and the information given on him is definitely cool, because prior to this I knew him as that author who was a recluse and may or may not have drunk his own pee (Margaret confirms that this is in fact true). A bigger JD Salinger fan might have been more into it than I was--and it's an interesting sort-of companion to his works. I liked the book, at least, and I don't regret reading it or anything like that; however, this isn't the sort of book I'd just pick up again and read for fun. I'm probably going to end up giving it to Fabrizzles or Stubs if either of them are interested, or send it off to the Jerome Harrison book fair. Again--no judgment on the book itself, Margaret is a very talented author and the book is interesting--but I know I'm not going to read it again, at least not in the next ten years or what have you. (And if she wrote some sort of addendum after her father's death I would definitely read it! And... Now that I'm thinking about it, did JD Salinger know about this book? Did he read it? Probably not, if he was "done with" his daughter like he said, but still. It would be interesting, albeit impossible, to know his reaction to it if so, or the idea of the book in general.)
MLA citation information: Salinger, Margaret A. Dream Catcher. Washington Square Press: New York, 2000.
*No, it is not.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Thursday, January 5, 2012
South of the Border, West of the Sun by Haruki Murakami
Look, I'm doing this again! I was only going to take a break from doing this for a month last year, but... Well, clearly it went a little longer than that. I took three English classes and a history class that was basically a Lit class, though, so I have one heck of an excuse. (I shudder to think what my final two years in college will be like.) Hopefully I'll be able to do at least one book a month in the future or something, but we'll see.
Anyways. First off, I got awesome nerdy things for Christmas which I am going to tout: Kate Beaton's Hark, A Vagrant! book (the one with Napoleon on the cover), Tree of Codes by Jonathan Safran Foer (which is an absolutely gorgeous and amazing book. Last year when it came out it was out for forty dollars, which I can assure you is totally worth it. It's beautiful, and a good book too.) and an uncensored edition of The Picture of Dorian Gray, which is also amazing. Kate Beaton, I have touted before, and you can check out her awesome comics at harkavagrant.com, Foer's book is a reworked version of the book Street of Crocodiles, a book I myself have not read, but he says is his favourite book, so now of course I need to read it. I recommend searching Google images for pictures of the book if you're curious about it--but I don't think you can really get it unless you're actually cracking it open yourself and reading it. In fact, I take that back. Don't even wonder about it until you actually buy it. I kind of knew what was in store when I asked for it (Foer cuts out parts of the text to create a new story out of it all), but I was still awed when I opened it. It's seriously amazing.
The edition of Dorian Gray I got was this edition, and is worth the money, even if you already own three copies of the book already, which I definitely do not. It gives a very good background for the novel, as well as a more in-depth look at Wilde's life and the parallels between that in the book. To read an even better case for it, go here. (Really--much better than my description thus far.) It's also interesting because all of the story with James Vane (Sybil's brother) hadn't existed yet, which meant until about ten minutes ago, when I checked my 1910 edition, I thought I was going insane. Actually, James's death occurs in (I believe) chapter eighteen, which the original manuscript never even reached. So yeah. Get that. It's definitely worth it.
Anywayyys, Haruki Murakami's book... I borrowed it from Meg. I've heard he was good for a while, but from a source that I was not particularly fond of in the least, so I put off trying him out. In any case, I really did enjoy this book. It's kind of like--well, the end of it reminded me of John Green's Looking for Alaska, or Paper Towns. You see, the book starts with Hajime reflecting on his early years, and girl he was close friends with right before he hit puberty, or before puberty really hit him. He was attracted to her, and he moves away before they get any older and their relationship really has the chance to become anything more. She definitely becomes a sort of romanticized figure, but not in a whiny way, if that makes sense. He thinks of her from time to time while he's dating Izumi in high school, and every so often he thinks of the girl (Shimamoto), but it's not dominant. He even gets married, becomes pretty successful in his job, and has two children and all of that. She appears in his life again when he's thirty-seven, and things become turbulent for a while, but other than that time, it's not like "SHIMAMOTO SHIMAMOTO" and I'm going to try real hard not to smear Looking for Alaska, but this book is like the perfect version of it. No--better. It's unfair to say that. But it reminded me a lot of that, and the end could have potentially gone on a long time more in a Looking for Alaska-esque way.
One thing I don't understand is a section with Izumi. The first time they kiss, Hajime decides it is important that he gets condoms ASAP, not for any lascivious reasons, but because he's just a teenager, you know, sixteen or so. Izumi is nervous, and he assures her that he was just curious about them, and that he will take it slow and never hurt her or anything like that. The thought of it makes her nervous, still, though, and she says she feels like a snail without a shell--Hajime responds by saying that he is nervous too--he feels like a frog without any webs. I'm not sure if I get it... Webs? Last time I checked, frogs weren't spiders...? Translation issue? I don't know...
Anyways, things obviously don't work out with Izumi. Hajime has sex with her cousin on multiple occasions--where Hajime moves on, Izumi does not. She is permanently damaged by the occasion and kind of... deflates. She appears from time to time throughout the novel, and now that I think of it, kind of serves as a picture of a person who is too wrapped up in the past. She just kind of dies inside and becomes emotionless and kind of creepy. (An old classmate of theirs says that the local children are scared of her, specifically of her face.) That sounds mean, but... but yeah.
The Living Desert. "'There's nothing you can do about it. Another person's life is that person's life. You can't take responsibility. It's like we're living in a desert. You just have to get used to it. Did you see that Disney film in elementary school--The Living Desert?' 'Yeah,' I answered. 'Our world's exactly the same. Rain falls and the flowers bloom. No rain, they wither up. Bugs are eaten by lizards, lizards are eaten by birds. But in the end, every one of them dies. They die and dry up. One generation dies, and the next one takes over. That's how it goes. Lots of different ways to live. And lots of different ways to die. But in the end that doesn't make a bit of difference. All that remains is a desert'" (Haruki 81). Kind of depressing, especially in that it does have merit, right? Don't worry, I'll be getting back to this later.
Anyways. Shimamoto reappears in Hajime's life. She tells Hajime very little about herself--she has surgery on her bad leg (she had a partially lame leg when they were kids, which led Hajime to go on a blind date with a different girl with a partially lame leg at some point in his twenties), she had a baby but it died within, at most, two days of its birth, and she does not wear a wedding ring. Their first 'excursion' is to go out and spread the baby's ashes. But they spend a lot of time together at one of the bars Hajime owns, talking and drinking and what have you. They actually only have sex once--well, not once, but only one night is, uh... marked by sex. After this she disappears. Hajime's wife reveals that she knows that something has been going on. Now I'm going to spoil the end, which I didn't intend to do, but I am the worst person after all. Hajime chooses between the two--and comes to the fact that Shimamoto was idealized. (Actually, his sudden run-in with the deadened Izumi is what kind of brings him to that realization.) While driving with Shimamoto to the cottage they had sex at, she told him that she had a sudden impulse to grab the wheel and jerk it--undoubtedly that would kill them, but she does not add that. Hajime comes to the conclusion that she's... Not so much unbalanced (though I would definitely put it like that) but that whatever had happened made her so desperate that death kind of... infected her. It was the only real option she could truly see. Or, she became "creepy as hell". Actually, he described her eyes as being very dead, or having death in them, while they were having sex (I think specifically while she was giving him a blow job), so yeah. "Creepy as hell". (But can you see why she would bring up the image of Alaska?)
Anyway. My last bit (sorry if this post seems weird; I'm kind of out of practice.) goes back to the desert. (And also a little bit onto Alaska.) After he decides that he will stay with his wife, he meditates at the table until "someone" comes and "lightly rested [their] hand on my shoulder", imagining "rain falling on the sea. Rain softly falling on the vast sea, with no one there to see it. The rain strikes the surface of the sea, yet even the fish don't know it is raining" (Haruki 213). It shows an opposite, more optimistic view of life than that afforded by Hajime's old schoolmate, yet I believe it may be saying the same thing. The people are the rain, hitting the water, the world, eternity, what have you, and the fish are supposed to God, the universe, all of that. At least that's what I'm thinking.
And I hope you can see the connections to Looking for Alaska--the idealized girl, the car issues, that sudden impulsive suicide (or not-suicide in Shimamoto's case), etc. I think potentially, the book could have gone on like the second half of Looking for Alaska. I thank God it did not, because that was three-quarters of the reason I did not like the book. He could have and he didn't, which I respect. I mean--I understand why the main character (Pudge?) wanted to find out the reason behind it all and everything, but it just got boring and painful, like an episode of The Big Bang Theory. Ugh, sorry about this. I didn't mean to slam John Green. I loved An Abundance of Katherines. (I did mean to slam The Big Bang Theory, though. It is terrible.)
Um... Yeah. Sorry that this post is a little... Strange. Well, in any case, I liked the book, and would definitely recommend it. I'm still a little leery about The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, which Meg said she'd lend me next, just because its style is supposedly a little odd, but it's still going to happen. Hooray and goodnight!
MLA information: Haruki, Murakami. Trans. Philip Gabriel. South of the Border, West of the Sun. Vintage Books: New York, 1999.
Anyways. First off, I got awesome nerdy things for Christmas which I am going to tout: Kate Beaton's Hark, A Vagrant! book (the one with Napoleon on the cover), Tree of Codes by Jonathan Safran Foer (which is an absolutely gorgeous and amazing book. Last year when it came out it was out for forty dollars, which I can assure you is totally worth it. It's beautiful, and a good book too.) and an uncensored edition of The Picture of Dorian Gray, which is also amazing. Kate Beaton, I have touted before, and you can check out her awesome comics at harkavagrant.com, Foer's book is a reworked version of the book Street of Crocodiles, a book I myself have not read, but he says is his favourite book, so now of course I need to read it. I recommend searching Google images for pictures of the book if you're curious about it--but I don't think you can really get it unless you're actually cracking it open yourself and reading it. In fact, I take that back. Don't even wonder about it until you actually buy it. I kind of knew what was in store when I asked for it (Foer cuts out parts of the text to create a new story out of it all), but I was still awed when I opened it. It's seriously amazing.
The edition of Dorian Gray I got was this edition, and is worth the money, even if you already own three copies of the book already, which I definitely do not. It gives a very good background for the novel, as well as a more in-depth look at Wilde's life and the parallels between that in the book. To read an even better case for it, go here. (Really--much better than my description thus far.) It's also interesting because all of the story with James Vane (Sybil's brother) hadn't existed yet, which meant until about ten minutes ago, when I checked my 1910 edition, I thought I was going insane. Actually, James's death occurs in (I believe) chapter eighteen, which the original manuscript never even reached. So yeah. Get that. It's definitely worth it.
Anywayyys, Haruki Murakami's book... I borrowed it from Meg. I've heard he was good for a while, but from a source that I was not particularly fond of in the least, so I put off trying him out. In any case, I really did enjoy this book. It's kind of like--well, the end of it reminded me of John Green's Looking for Alaska, or Paper Towns. You see, the book starts with Hajime reflecting on his early years, and girl he was close friends with right before he hit puberty, or before puberty really hit him. He was attracted to her, and he moves away before they get any older and their relationship really has the chance to become anything more. She definitely becomes a sort of romanticized figure, but not in a whiny way, if that makes sense. He thinks of her from time to time while he's dating Izumi in high school, and every so often he thinks of the girl (Shimamoto), but it's not dominant. He even gets married, becomes pretty successful in his job, and has two children and all of that. She appears in his life again when he's thirty-seven, and things become turbulent for a while, but other than that time, it's not like "SHIMAMOTO SHIMAMOTO" and I'm going to try real hard not to smear Looking for Alaska, but this book is like the perfect version of it. No--better. It's unfair to say that. But it reminded me a lot of that, and the end could have potentially gone on a long time more in a Looking for Alaska-esque way.
One thing I don't understand is a section with Izumi. The first time they kiss, Hajime decides it is important that he gets condoms ASAP, not for any lascivious reasons, but because he's just a teenager, you know, sixteen or so. Izumi is nervous, and he assures her that he was just curious about them, and that he will take it slow and never hurt her or anything like that. The thought of it makes her nervous, still, though, and she says she feels like a snail without a shell--Hajime responds by saying that he is nervous too--he feels like a frog without any webs. I'm not sure if I get it... Webs? Last time I checked, frogs weren't spiders...? Translation issue? I don't know...
Anyways, things obviously don't work out with Izumi. Hajime has sex with her cousin on multiple occasions--where Hajime moves on, Izumi does not. She is permanently damaged by the occasion and kind of... deflates. She appears from time to time throughout the novel, and now that I think of it, kind of serves as a picture of a person who is too wrapped up in the past. She just kind of dies inside and becomes emotionless and kind of creepy. (An old classmate of theirs says that the local children are scared of her, specifically of her face.) That sounds mean, but... but yeah.
The Living Desert. "'There's nothing you can do about it. Another person's life is that person's life. You can't take responsibility. It's like we're living in a desert. You just have to get used to it. Did you see that Disney film in elementary school--The Living Desert?' 'Yeah,' I answered. 'Our world's exactly the same. Rain falls and the flowers bloom. No rain, they wither up. Bugs are eaten by lizards, lizards are eaten by birds. But in the end, every one of them dies. They die and dry up. One generation dies, and the next one takes over. That's how it goes. Lots of different ways to live. And lots of different ways to die. But in the end that doesn't make a bit of difference. All that remains is a desert'" (Haruki 81). Kind of depressing, especially in that it does have merit, right? Don't worry, I'll be getting back to this later.
Anyways. Shimamoto reappears in Hajime's life. She tells Hajime very little about herself--she has surgery on her bad leg (she had a partially lame leg when they were kids, which led Hajime to go on a blind date with a different girl with a partially lame leg at some point in his twenties), she had a baby but it died within, at most, two days of its birth, and she does not wear a wedding ring. Their first 'excursion' is to go out and spread the baby's ashes. But they spend a lot of time together at one of the bars Hajime owns, talking and drinking and what have you. They actually only have sex once--well, not once, but only one night is, uh... marked by sex. After this she disappears. Hajime's wife reveals that she knows that something has been going on. Now I'm going to spoil the end, which I didn't intend to do, but I am the worst person after all. Hajime chooses between the two--and comes to the fact that Shimamoto was idealized. (Actually, his sudden run-in with the deadened Izumi is what kind of brings him to that realization.) While driving with Shimamoto to the cottage they had sex at, she told him that she had a sudden impulse to grab the wheel and jerk it--undoubtedly that would kill them, but she does not add that. Hajime comes to the conclusion that she's... Not so much unbalanced (though I would definitely put it like that) but that whatever had happened made her so desperate that death kind of... infected her. It was the only real option she could truly see. Or, she became "creepy as hell". Actually, he described her eyes as being very dead, or having death in them, while they were having sex (I think specifically while she was giving him a blow job), so yeah. "Creepy as hell". (But can you see why she would bring up the image of Alaska?)
Anyway. My last bit (sorry if this post seems weird; I'm kind of out of practice.) goes back to the desert. (And also a little bit onto Alaska.) After he decides that he will stay with his wife, he meditates at the table until "someone" comes and "lightly rested [their] hand on my shoulder", imagining "rain falling on the sea. Rain softly falling on the vast sea, with no one there to see it. The rain strikes the surface of the sea, yet even the fish don't know it is raining" (Haruki 213). It shows an opposite, more optimistic view of life than that afforded by Hajime's old schoolmate, yet I believe it may be saying the same thing. The people are the rain, hitting the water, the world, eternity, what have you, and the fish are supposed to God, the universe, all of that. At least that's what I'm thinking.
And I hope you can see the connections to Looking for Alaska--the idealized girl, the car issues, that sudden impulsive suicide (or not-suicide in Shimamoto's case), etc. I think potentially, the book could have gone on like the second half of Looking for Alaska. I thank God it did not, because that was three-quarters of the reason I did not like the book. He could have and he didn't, which I respect. I mean--I understand why the main character (Pudge?) wanted to find out the reason behind it all and everything, but it just got boring and painful, like an episode of The Big Bang Theory. Ugh, sorry about this. I didn't mean to slam John Green. I loved An Abundance of Katherines. (I did mean to slam The Big Bang Theory, though. It is terrible.)
Um... Yeah. Sorry that this post is a little... Strange. Well, in any case, I liked the book, and would definitely recommend it. I'm still a little leery about The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, which Meg said she'd lend me next, just because its style is supposedly a little odd, but it's still going to happen. Hooray and goodnight!
MLA information: Haruki, Murakami. Trans. Philip Gabriel. South of the Border, West of the Sun. Vintage Books: New York, 1999.
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Dracula by Bram Stoker
This is the classic vampire story. (Or at least the most well-known, this wasn't even close to the first vampire-related piece of literature, or tale or anything,) Strange things you probably didn't know about this story: It's told through a series of letters and diary entries, Renfield and Harker are different people, and Bram Stoker is thought to have had an affair with Oscar Wilde, but I doubt that because 1. Stoker married a woman who turned Wilde down, 2. Wilde had better taste than that, come on.
The story starts with Harker going to the count's castle--Harker is a real estate agent and the count is going to London so he will be closer to victims. Harker is trapped in the castle for some time after the count leaves, and I'm not really clear on how he ends up in a British hospital. He escapes somehow, but he had a "brain fever", so he never made it really clear on how he got out... Dracula makes it to England, of course.
My first note is on what was apparently a common enough Victorian phrase--to make your toilet. I can't figure out if it's a general phrase to freshen up, put your PJs on, whatever, or if that was actually how late Victorians said to go to the bathroom. It's just... it's just really silly sounding.
At this point you may be wondering, "Angela, why is your first note hardly ten pages in and your next note on page 297?" Well, there's not a lot to make notes on. Anyway, I actually read the introduction to this book, and the author points out that much of what Dracula and Renfield are parodies or twisted versions of biblical passages. Most of it's pretty obvious (the famous quote "The blood is the life!" is actually out of the Old Testament, believe it or not), but Renfield says that Dracula "'began promising me things--not in words but by doing them'" (297). I'm ninety-nine percent sure that that's from somewhere in the Bible (I'm thinking New Testament, about Jesus), but I can't seem to find the passage. I could just be crazy, but you have to admit, it sounds awfully biblical. Help, please?
My next note is on Dracula's origins--he's expected to have been based off of Vlad Dracul, or Dracul is usually referred to as the "real-life" Dracula. Bram Stoker doesn't specifically say that Vlad Dracula is the Dracula, but Dracula certainly hails from the right location. ...Anyway, though Bram doesn't specify that Dracula is Vlad, van Helsing explains that Dracula was supposedly an incredibly talented and intelligent man in life. A soldier, a statesman, and alchemist (dating him perfectly--though van Helsing also calls him a "'wonderful man'" [320], which doesn't sound like Vlad Dracul), which all can be twisted around to point to Vlad Dracul, but makes it seem awfully iffy... On the other hand, he also supposedly "'knew no fear and no remorse'" (320). According to van Helsing, his brain was just so big and powerful it just didn't shut down at the time of his death. This survival is what gave him his weird power. Now, at the time I'm sure the legend of the vampire wasn't very well explored and this was probably pretty acceptable--still, I prefer the Hellsing version--in desperation, when Vlad is being taken to his death by the Turks, he licks up the blood on the ground in front of him. Because he is apparently a virgin (he was raped as a child, but I guess that didn't count because of his young age, or because it was sodomy?), this enabled him to become a vampire. (This also actually works with the book--Dracula attempts to entice Mina to drink his blood so, presumably, she will become like him completely. This is necessary for Seras too, even after he drank her blood--she was caught in between.
"'A man who has centuries before him can afford to wait and to go slow'" (321).
So eventually everybody gets together to destroy Dracula. Van Helsing, Mina, Harker, and two of Mina's Harker's ex-suitors (Mina and Jonathan marry when Jonathan recovers). One of them is an American--a Texan, to be exact. When trying to decide what weapons to use to defeat Dracula or at least defend themselves from Dracula and his fellows, the Texan pipes up: "'I propose that we add Winchesters to our armament. I have a kind of belief in a Winchester when there is any trouble of that sort around'" (344). Of course.
The most annoying part of the book comes at the end--not at how Dracula dies or that he dies (he doesn't get stabbed with a stake, he gets stabbed in the heart with a bowie knife), but because they kill him, they rejoice because the reign of evil is over and he is redeemed and free to die, and then all of a sudden they're just like "seven years later..." Oh okay, that's cool. Nah, I don't mind. Whatever, Bram. Not stupid at all.
My last bit is on what the book is a comment on--foreigners, sexuality--there have been dozens of things suggested, but I think the only one that really makes sense through and through is sexuality. Dracula is kind of gross looking, but very--um--seductive. I mean, he's biting all the women, he already has three voluptuous vampire-wives (whose sexuality Harker is terrified of--when he kisses them he is stuck between desire and terror--sounds like HarkerRenfield's speech about Dracula are often twisted versions of Bible passages), so... An oversexed false god? Even just the devil in general. The devil isn't known for seducing anybody (to the best of my knowledge), but it's the same basic temptation bit. The essay/introduction to this edition (Barnes and Noble Classics) is very interesting and helpful, especially in relation to what I'm trying to explain. This is what I'd suggest you buy if you were looking to read it... (The introduction was written by Brooke Allen, if you want to try looking it up online or something.)
MLA Citation information: Stoker, Bram. Dracula. Barnes and Noble Classics: New York, 2004.
EDIT: Fun fact, I guess this was originally supposed to be published on August eighteenth, I just pressed "Save Now" instead of "Publish Post". Oooooops. Well, I'm not dead, in any case.
The story starts with Harker going to the count's castle--Harker is a real estate agent and the count is going to London so he will be closer to victims. Harker is trapped in the castle for some time after the count leaves, and I'm not really clear on how he ends up in a British hospital. He escapes somehow, but he had a "brain fever", so he never made it really clear on how he got out... Dracula makes it to England, of course.
My first note is on what was apparently a common enough Victorian phrase--to make your toilet. I can't figure out if it's a general phrase to freshen up, put your PJs on, whatever, or if that was actually how late Victorians said to go to the bathroom. It's just... it's just really silly sounding.
At this point you may be wondering, "Angela, why is your first note hardly ten pages in and your next note on page 297?" Well, there's not a lot to make notes on. Anyway, I actually read the introduction to this book, and the author points out that much of what Dracula and Renfield are parodies or twisted versions of biblical passages. Most of it's pretty obvious (the famous quote "The blood is the life!" is actually out of the Old Testament, believe it or not), but Renfield says that Dracula "'began promising me things--not in words but by doing them'" (297). I'm ninety-nine percent sure that that's from somewhere in the Bible (I'm thinking New Testament, about Jesus), but I can't seem to find the passage. I could just be crazy, but you have to admit, it sounds awfully biblical. Help, please?
My next note is on Dracula's origins--he's expected to have been based off of Vlad Dracul, or Dracul is usually referred to as the "real-life" Dracula. Bram Stoker doesn't specifically say that Vlad Dracula is the Dracula, but Dracula certainly hails from the right location. ...Anyway, though Bram doesn't specify that Dracula is Vlad, van Helsing explains that Dracula was supposedly an incredibly talented and intelligent man in life. A soldier, a statesman, and alchemist (dating him perfectly--though van Helsing also calls him a "'wonderful man'" [320], which doesn't sound like Vlad Dracul), which all can be twisted around to point to Vlad Dracul, but makes it seem awfully iffy... On the other hand, he also supposedly "'knew no fear and no remorse'" (320). According to van Helsing, his brain was just so big and powerful it just didn't shut down at the time of his death. This survival is what gave him his weird power. Now, at the time I'm sure the legend of the vampire wasn't very well explored and this was probably pretty acceptable--still, I prefer the Hellsing version--in desperation, when Vlad is being taken to his death by the Turks, he licks up the blood on the ground in front of him. Because he is apparently a virgin (he was raped as a child, but I guess that didn't count because of his young age, or because it was sodomy?), this enabled him to become a vampire. (This also actually works with the book--Dracula attempts to entice Mina to drink his blood so, presumably, she will become like him completely. This is necessary for Seras too, even after he drank her blood--she was caught in between.
"'A man who has centuries before him can afford to wait and to go slow'" (321).
So eventually everybody gets together to destroy Dracula. Van Helsing, Mina, Harker, and two of Mina's Harker's ex-suitors (Mina and Jonathan marry when Jonathan recovers). One of them is an American--a Texan, to be exact. When trying to decide what weapons to use to defeat Dracula or at least defend themselves from Dracula and his fellows, the Texan pipes up: "'I propose that we add Winchesters to our armament. I have a kind of belief in a Winchester when there is any trouble of that sort around'" (344). Of course.
The most annoying part of the book comes at the end--not at how Dracula dies or that he dies (he doesn't get stabbed with a stake, he gets stabbed in the heart with a bowie knife), but because they kill him, they rejoice because the reign of evil is over and he is redeemed and free to die, and then all of a sudden they're just like "seven years later..." Oh okay, that's cool. Nah, I don't mind. Whatever, Bram. Not stupid at all.
My last bit is on what the book is a comment on--foreigners, sexuality--there have been dozens of things suggested, but I think the only one that really makes sense through and through is sexuality. Dracula is kind of gross looking, but very--um--seductive. I mean, he's biting all the women, he already has three voluptuous vampire-wives (whose sexuality Harker is terrified of--when he kisses them he is stuck between desire and terror--sounds like HarkerRenfield's speech about Dracula are often twisted versions of Bible passages), so... An oversexed false god? Even just the devil in general. The devil isn't known for seducing anybody (to the best of my knowledge), but it's the same basic temptation bit. The essay/introduction to this edition (Barnes and Noble Classics) is very interesting and helpful, especially in relation to what I'm trying to explain. This is what I'd suggest you buy if you were looking to read it... (The introduction was written by Brooke Allen, if you want to try looking it up online or something.)
MLA Citation information: Stoker, Bram. Dracula. Barnes and Noble Classics: New York, 2004.
EDIT: Fun fact, I guess this was originally supposed to be published on August eighteenth, I just pressed "Save Now" instead of "Publish Post". Oooooops. Well, I'm not dead, in any case.
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