In a week where ISIS released propaganda footage showing the immolation death of a Jordanian pilot, the biggest uproar seemed to be reserved for President Obama and his comments at a National Prayer Breakfast. Invoking the historically documented savagery of many of the movements over the years that have utilized religion, mostly Christianity, as moral justification for their heinous actions, pundits and politicians couldn't resist the urge to claim utmost offense from this speech. Let that sink in for a minute. Footage of a living person being set alight, and dying what was surely a horrific and awful death, took second billing to the President reminding the nation and the world that we are not without fault when it comes to brutality. From the Crusades to the Civil War to the Civil Rights Movement, religion, again Christianity for the most part, has been used as a cloak for justifying brutality on a scale equal to or greater than any that ISIS or any other Muslim group has felt compelled to unleash on the populace. And if religion isn't the cited justification, one needs to only look at what has transpired since the events of September 11, 2001. A war on terror, an infinitely open ended one at that, led us to believe it was okay to waterboard suspected terrorists and take humiliating pictures of them arranged in the most sexually graphic poses and in states of sheer terror and fright all in the name of protecting our inherently good democracy.
As if that amount of hypocrisy wasn't enough, one needs to only look to the calls for revenge against the ISIS terrorists that utilize the very tactics listed above. Somehow, in some morally justifiable way, utilizing waterboarding on ISIS suspects is condoned. An eye for an eye will be the generally given reasoning. At the same time, it's unclear to anyone calling for this that it's exactly what the President was invoking in his speech and trying to demonstrate to the world that even though we are not without guilt ourselves regarding these matters, we certainly will not resort to such brutality in order or exact revenge. We're supposed to be more civilized than that. Showing no waver in the face of, what seems like, unimaginable savagery is supposed to one of the reasons why America is afforded the ability to take the moral high ground on so many issues. Calls for such retaliation would not only squander the little amount of good will we actually have in this world; it would also serve as ideal recruiting fodder for these groups and would thus only expand their ranks when we're desperately trying to shrink them.
At this point, there's very little the President can say that won't be greeted with the same knee-jerk reaction that it's either intentionally offensive or blatantly false. Having historical facts questioned and simply reminding the world that we also have blood on our hands, some spilled very recently, is perhaps a poignant reminder how hard his job really is.
My Own Personal 6 a.m. A vast wasteland where word bombs explode with ferocity and provoke rage, sadness, and glee.
Saturday, February 07, 2015
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Wages of Terror
The terror attack at a satirical newspaper in France and its bloody resolution this week served to underscore the idea that radical Islam is a persistent and worrisome threat to democracies around the world, especially those with rooted interests in the Middle East and, what may be construed as, harmful intentions and public support for the suppression of those practicing the Muslim faith in territories as varied as Palestine and Syria. Outright hostility to immigrant populations and the rise of political parties endorsing far right policies in terms of limiting immigration serves only to deepen a distrust that's already at the tipping point due to high levels of unemployment and dissatisfaction with the current state of government. This toxic stew of factors has created the perfect storm of mistrust amongst neighbors and a growing fear of the "other."
Invariably, when these types of incidents occur, world leaders feel compelled to react with promises to exact vengeance on those responsible, which is completely natural and logical. Calls for unity amongst the population are also levied, and, out of a sense of trying to show the terrorists that they won't be intimidated and won't alter their lives, this is what happens. Solidarity reigns for a time, and everyone feels as if they've taken back what has been stolen from them in a act of sheer brutality. However, one has to wonder how effective these types of stances are in the grand scheme of things. Terror attacks are as old as civilization itself, and it's highly unlikely that any time a world leader vows to bring the culprits to justice that it dissuades anyone from trying to carry out similar attacks in the future. Marches under the banner of unity serve as temporary gauze on the wound. The vulnerability is still there, and the terrorists are aware of this.
The twenty-four seven news cycle doesn't help matters any. Throughout the coverage, numerous talking heads are allowed to espouse opinions on all matter of topics, from the motivation behind the attacks to the possibility that the terrorists exhibited traits highly suggestive of their having been professionally trained in the handling of military caliber weapons and standard cover formations. Where this type of discourse goes off the rails is when you have so called experts waging personal attacks on the alleged perpetrators. Questioning whether or not there was some thought put into the operation and claiming that it's likely that those involved won't be able to escape capture for long, as if it's a given, serves no purpose. Showcasing a "tough guy" stance doesn't detract from the fact that a tragedy has occurred. It does nothing to diminish the horror and outrage that should follow. If it were the case that these types of indictments held any sort of sway with the actors, then it should follow that we'd see a decrease in these attacks. We haven't, and we probably won't.
Take, for example, ISIS. They were supposed to be on the verge of defeat numerous times throughout this past year, once the U.S. led air strikes commenced. In that case, you had many of these same experts writing the obituary for ISIS, saying it was only a matter of time before they would be so severely degraded in their ability to wage attacks across Syria and Iraq that it would only be a matter of time before this threat was quashed, a sort of flame out was thought to likely occur as ISIS was burning the candle a little too hot and at both ends. Land that they easily captured would surely be reclaimed. A funny thing happened, though. The downfall of ISIS didn't and hasn't occurred. In fact, you now have more groups from across the globe pledging allegiance to ISIS as they are now seen as the go to terror network. They are barbaric and brutal in their tactics and actions, but they have written the blueprint for waging a successful terror campaign in the Middle East, as has Boko Harem in Nigeria, an all but forgotten state of affairs.
A more cautious and restrained view would make matters seem more realistic in terms of finding a balance between a need for caution and a deviance that the terrorists won't win. Declare the desire to bring those responsible to justice, but do so in a manner that does not seem overly aggressive in the face of a threat that isn't going to be easily extinguished. Live life in a manner that isn't restrained by an unknown fear, but do so in a way that one can still be aware of the way life is, especially when the melting pot of cultures and religions is so highly visible, as it is throughout Europe. By all means live freely and don't be cowed but do so in a manner that's not antagonistic to the very forces which see you as the enemy.
Invariably, when these types of incidents occur, world leaders feel compelled to react with promises to exact vengeance on those responsible, which is completely natural and logical. Calls for unity amongst the population are also levied, and, out of a sense of trying to show the terrorists that they won't be intimidated and won't alter their lives, this is what happens. Solidarity reigns for a time, and everyone feels as if they've taken back what has been stolen from them in a act of sheer brutality. However, one has to wonder how effective these types of stances are in the grand scheme of things. Terror attacks are as old as civilization itself, and it's highly unlikely that any time a world leader vows to bring the culprits to justice that it dissuades anyone from trying to carry out similar attacks in the future. Marches under the banner of unity serve as temporary gauze on the wound. The vulnerability is still there, and the terrorists are aware of this.
The twenty-four seven news cycle doesn't help matters any. Throughout the coverage, numerous talking heads are allowed to espouse opinions on all matter of topics, from the motivation behind the attacks to the possibility that the terrorists exhibited traits highly suggestive of their having been professionally trained in the handling of military caliber weapons and standard cover formations. Where this type of discourse goes off the rails is when you have so called experts waging personal attacks on the alleged perpetrators. Questioning whether or not there was some thought put into the operation and claiming that it's likely that those involved won't be able to escape capture for long, as if it's a given, serves no purpose. Showcasing a "tough guy" stance doesn't detract from the fact that a tragedy has occurred. It does nothing to diminish the horror and outrage that should follow. If it were the case that these types of indictments held any sort of sway with the actors, then it should follow that we'd see a decrease in these attacks. We haven't, and we probably won't.
Take, for example, ISIS. They were supposed to be on the verge of defeat numerous times throughout this past year, once the U.S. led air strikes commenced. In that case, you had many of these same experts writing the obituary for ISIS, saying it was only a matter of time before they would be so severely degraded in their ability to wage attacks across Syria and Iraq that it would only be a matter of time before this threat was quashed, a sort of flame out was thought to likely occur as ISIS was burning the candle a little too hot and at both ends. Land that they easily captured would surely be reclaimed. A funny thing happened, though. The downfall of ISIS didn't and hasn't occurred. In fact, you now have more groups from across the globe pledging allegiance to ISIS as they are now seen as the go to terror network. They are barbaric and brutal in their tactics and actions, but they have written the blueprint for waging a successful terror campaign in the Middle East, as has Boko Harem in Nigeria, an all but forgotten state of affairs.
A more cautious and restrained view would make matters seem more realistic in terms of finding a balance between a need for caution and a deviance that the terrorists won't win. Declare the desire to bring those responsible to justice, but do so in a manner that does not seem overly aggressive in the face of a threat that isn't going to be easily extinguished. Live life in a manner that isn't restrained by an unknown fear, but do so in a way that one can still be aware of the way life is, especially when the melting pot of cultures and religions is so highly visible, as it is throughout Europe. By all means live freely and don't be cowed but do so in a manner that's not antagonistic to the very forces which see you as the enemy.
Saturday, March 08, 2014
Saturday, November 24, 2012
The Parent Trap
One of the more irritating aspects of literature is the continuing portrayal of parents as doddering, clueless old fools. Sadly, this isn't a new phenomenon, but the literature of the 20th century up through today seems to take a special pleasure in creating mothers and fathers that lack all manner of comprehension or understanding of their offspring's behavior, and, if they weren't portrayed with so much seriousness, one would be hard pressed to believe these people weren't solely used for comedic purposes and a deliberate slap in the face of anyone over the age of fifty.
Taking a survey of current writers, Franzen or Eugenides for example, one encounters parents who are so out of touch with reality that they're incapable of having civil discussions with their children on all manner of topics, but the coup de grace is the topic of sex. Parents have no concept of this and are wholly unskilled at anything resembling an adult discussion on the topic. The lifestyle choices of their children, whether college age or young adults, present such a radical departure from the norm, that you'd think these characters had been plucked from the mid 1800s and transported to the otherworldly 21st century.
Franzen is a particularly horrible offender, and a repeat offender at that considering The Corrections and Freedom are nearly identical novels. Parents suffering through the throes of dementia are given a free pass, but the others are so baffled by modern life that it's almost as if the author is striving to suggest that parents become their children's children much earlier in life than anyone ever anticipated. The children are given this complex mental background steeped in coolness and dilemma that simply defies explanation and can not be summed up for anyone of an older generation.
What's even more unnerving is when one encounters a writer like Philip Roth, who portrays parents in such a revered way that it's hard not to believe that they are incapable of coming to terms with modern life. Roth gives the fathers and grandfathers a classically educated, working class veneer that just oozes respect. However, since the children are mostly concerned with their extramarital affairs and impending death, this type of reverence is, again, lost on the reader. It's a shame that the older generation, who is on the verge of death and should be consumed with their impending mortality, are portrayed and gossipy busybodies and uncomprehending foils for modern life's ills. Roth is capable of giving fathers a proper amount of respect that is in of itself timeless and old fashioned at once, but he loses any sense of credibility when writing about the fact that a son would desecrate his marriage in favor of bodily temptation.
This temptation resurfaces in Franzen's work, but it's explained away as being revolting to the character instead of titillating. In other words, the fathers are intrigued by the idea of mistresses but choose not to act based on some antiquated moral code. The sons, on the other hand, have no such qualms.
It's a shame that writers today can't seem to find the ability to create more independent and well rounded characters when it comes to parents. What they're instead choosing to portray is a world without direction in the hands of a youth without any means to rely upon the history laid out before them.
Taking a survey of current writers, Franzen or Eugenides for example, one encounters parents who are so out of touch with reality that they're incapable of having civil discussions with their children on all manner of topics, but the coup de grace is the topic of sex. Parents have no concept of this and are wholly unskilled at anything resembling an adult discussion on the topic. The lifestyle choices of their children, whether college age or young adults, present such a radical departure from the norm, that you'd think these characters had been plucked from the mid 1800s and transported to the otherworldly 21st century.
Franzen is a particularly horrible offender, and a repeat offender at that considering The Corrections and Freedom are nearly identical novels. Parents suffering through the throes of dementia are given a free pass, but the others are so baffled by modern life that it's almost as if the author is striving to suggest that parents become their children's children much earlier in life than anyone ever anticipated. The children are given this complex mental background steeped in coolness and dilemma that simply defies explanation and can not be summed up for anyone of an older generation.
What's even more unnerving is when one encounters a writer like Philip Roth, who portrays parents in such a revered way that it's hard not to believe that they are incapable of coming to terms with modern life. Roth gives the fathers and grandfathers a classically educated, working class veneer that just oozes respect. However, since the children are mostly concerned with their extramarital affairs and impending death, this type of reverence is, again, lost on the reader. It's a shame that the older generation, who is on the verge of death and should be consumed with their impending mortality, are portrayed and gossipy busybodies and uncomprehending foils for modern life's ills. Roth is capable of giving fathers a proper amount of respect that is in of itself timeless and old fashioned at once, but he loses any sense of credibility when writing about the fact that a son would desecrate his marriage in favor of bodily temptation.
This temptation resurfaces in Franzen's work, but it's explained away as being revolting to the character instead of titillating. In other words, the fathers are intrigued by the idea of mistresses but choose not to act based on some antiquated moral code. The sons, on the other hand, have no such qualms.
It's a shame that writers today can't seem to find the ability to create more independent and well rounded characters when it comes to parents. What they're instead choosing to portray is a world without direction in the hands of a youth without any means to rely upon the history laid out before them.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
End of the Road
Philip Roth has announced that he's retiring from writing novels. Normally, this type of announcement would fill me with utmost sadness and despair at the prospect of yet another artist I love ceasing to produce new works. With Roth, though, I think the writing has been on the wall for quite some time. His output over the last few decades has been some of his most highly praised of his career, but I've found much of it to be redundant, repetitive and wholly lacking anything new to say about the human condition.
Roth has spent much of this period writing an extended eulogy of sorts for many of his characters and in many ways seems to be mirroring his own life as it winds down into the twilight. Any sympathy one might have for these characters as they enter their final days is extinguished, however, by the fact that much of their time is spent on bizarre recollections of sexual conquests past and present and rings untrue. I've written about my disappointment in Roth before and this holds true now that I know that these last few novels, or novellas to be more exact, are now serving as the coda to a long career that has produced some incredibly beautiful writing.
Human sexuality is certainly a fact of life and one that I accept as being a necessary component to the arts, but Roth's obsessions, for they truly are his when one considers the fact that most if not all of his characters are extensions of their creator, truly ruin what could be seen as a very provocative, thoughtful rumination on the end of one's days. Characters reflecting on the intellectual aspects of existence are much more interesting to ponder than any graphic description of oral sex. Roth is a classicist in the truest sense. He's steeped in the greatest works ever produced, so it's doubly baffling that he would choose to totally ignore these influences in favor of whipping a already dead horse.
I'm sad to see someone like Roth give up on the novel, because he's certainly got the skills to produce tremendous work, but if he doesn't have anything to say or is incapable of saying anything new about the human condition, perhaps it's best that he does throw in the towel.
Philip Roth has announced that he's retiring from writing novels. Normally, this type of announcement would fill me with utmost sadness and despair at the prospect of yet another artist I love ceasing to produce new works. With Roth, though, I think the writing has been on the wall for quite some time. His output over the last few decades has been some of his most highly praised of his career, but I've found much of it to be redundant, repetitive and wholly lacking anything new to say about the human condition.
Roth has spent much of this period writing an extended eulogy of sorts for many of his characters and in many ways seems to be mirroring his own life as it winds down into the twilight. Any sympathy one might have for these characters as they enter their final days is extinguished, however, by the fact that much of their time is spent on bizarre recollections of sexual conquests past and present and rings untrue. I've written about my disappointment in Roth before and this holds true now that I know that these last few novels, or novellas to be more exact, are now serving as the coda to a long career that has produced some incredibly beautiful writing.
Human sexuality is certainly a fact of life and one that I accept as being a necessary component to the arts, but Roth's obsessions, for they truly are his when one considers the fact that most if not all of his characters are extensions of their creator, truly ruin what could be seen as a very provocative, thoughtful rumination on the end of one's days. Characters reflecting on the intellectual aspects of existence are much more interesting to ponder than any graphic description of oral sex. Roth is a classicist in the truest sense. He's steeped in the greatest works ever produced, so it's doubly baffling that he would choose to totally ignore these influences in favor of whipping a already dead horse.
I'm sad to see someone like Roth give up on the novel, because he's certainly got the skills to produce tremendous work, but if he doesn't have anything to say or is incapable of saying anything new about the human condition, perhaps it's best that he does throw in the towel.
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Travesty
The ongoing suffering in New Jersey and New York is unbelievable on so many levels. I find it baffling that we live in such a technologically advanced society, but we're unable to adequately respond to a major storm that provided as much advance notice as could possibly be expected in terms of a disaster, and, yet, there are still people missing and others living in the dark, afraid to leave their homes for fear that looters might help themselves to their belongings. How is this happening?
Musical Observations
We live in such an advanced technological era that it's easier than ever to make your own music and distribute it. Why isn't any of it very good?
The internet, blogs, Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook and any other social media make it easier than ever for artists, especially musicians, to produce and distribute their work. At face value, this should mean a lot to self professed audiophiles. The problem, however, is that without a filter, it's only so much noise in an avalanche of media bombardments. You wouldn't know this from looking at any recent issue of Rolling Stone or websites like Pitchfork. According to these tastemakers, albums of five star or 8.0-10.0 ratings are routinely released. Either standards have fallen, or, really, we are enjoying a renaissance in terms of musical quality that's never been seen in the history of music, except for maybe the late '60s and early '70s. This is problematic.
Indie bands that produce albums that are even remotely competent are hailed as innovators and are featured on weekly playlists far and wide. It seems like all you have to do is sprinkle in some references to Springsteen and other rock icons in your music and interviews, and, presto, you have some immediate cache that lends relevance to your music that it might not otherwise have. This isn't the fault of the artists involved; there is a formula that garners immediate respect, and it's hard to blame anyone from following it. Imitation may be the most sincerest form of flattery, but it's also easier to produce than something fresh and original.
On top of the assorted acts that seem to be shaped from the same mold, you also have many others that really have no business producing albums worth of material, and it's more than likely due to the fact that there is no barrier between production and distribution. Labels, while still important, aren't the pinnacle of a career that acts strive for. Why sign away your soul to distribute your material when you can either do it yourself very cheaply or find any number of lower rung indie labels, of which there seem to be too many to count, and have your music still reach a fair number of people? If you have an album out, chances are someone can find it easily, on Amazon for example, and not have to search far and wide for some independent record store. However, perhaps it shouldn't be that easy.
Getting signed to a label used to be hard. One only needs to look back at the history of the Seattle scene to see how difficult it was for bands to get signed, even in the face of a scene which seemed to be flourishing only due to the fact that everyone was trying to sign any one who had even a slight claim to being from that area. Ever hear of the U-Men? Probably not, even though they were one of the first influential acts on the scene. Obviously, labels signed a lot of acts that never panned out in order to cash in on a fad. Why I think this matters is because there was at least the semblance of someone looking at the bigger picture. Sure, profits were important, probably the most important aspect, but there's also the idea of producing a legacy and a back catalog filled with worthy acts. The music mattered, and its quality was important, regardless of what the corporate suits at the top of the chain were concerned about.
Nowadays, it seems like anything and everything is released, regardless of quality. Why is that a good thing? Do you really believe that the newest album by those indie sweethearts will stand the test of time and rank up there with the icons of the industry? I've done my fair share of griping about the fact that the top albums and acts of all time seems to be frozen in some sort of stasis, but there's something to be said about a discography that stands the test of time and doesn't lose any of its relevance. There are newer, or at least more recent, acts that are producing some tremendous material, Radiohead and Wilco to name two, that will be around for a long time and influence a generation to come. I just don't see the need to drown that influence out with a ton of music that won't be around that long. Sometimes more isn't better.
We live in such an advanced technological era that it's easier than ever to make your own music and distribute it. Why isn't any of it very good?
The internet, blogs, Twitter, Tumblr, Facebook and any other social media make it easier than ever for artists, especially musicians, to produce and distribute their work. At face value, this should mean a lot to self professed audiophiles. The problem, however, is that without a filter, it's only so much noise in an avalanche of media bombardments. You wouldn't know this from looking at any recent issue of Rolling Stone or websites like Pitchfork. According to these tastemakers, albums of five star or 8.0-10.0 ratings are routinely released. Either standards have fallen, or, really, we are enjoying a renaissance in terms of musical quality that's never been seen in the history of music, except for maybe the late '60s and early '70s. This is problematic.
Indie bands that produce albums that are even remotely competent are hailed as innovators and are featured on weekly playlists far and wide. It seems like all you have to do is sprinkle in some references to Springsteen and other rock icons in your music and interviews, and, presto, you have some immediate cache that lends relevance to your music that it might not otherwise have. This isn't the fault of the artists involved; there is a formula that garners immediate respect, and it's hard to blame anyone from following it. Imitation may be the most sincerest form of flattery, but it's also easier to produce than something fresh and original.
On top of the assorted acts that seem to be shaped from the same mold, you also have many others that really have no business producing albums worth of material, and it's more than likely due to the fact that there is no barrier between production and distribution. Labels, while still important, aren't the pinnacle of a career that acts strive for. Why sign away your soul to distribute your material when you can either do it yourself very cheaply or find any number of lower rung indie labels, of which there seem to be too many to count, and have your music still reach a fair number of people? If you have an album out, chances are someone can find it easily, on Amazon for example, and not have to search far and wide for some independent record store. However, perhaps it shouldn't be that easy.
Getting signed to a label used to be hard. One only needs to look back at the history of the Seattle scene to see how difficult it was for bands to get signed, even in the face of a scene which seemed to be flourishing only due to the fact that everyone was trying to sign any one who had even a slight claim to being from that area. Ever hear of the U-Men? Probably not, even though they were one of the first influential acts on the scene. Obviously, labels signed a lot of acts that never panned out in order to cash in on a fad. Why I think this matters is because there was at least the semblance of someone looking at the bigger picture. Sure, profits were important, probably the most important aspect, but there's also the idea of producing a legacy and a back catalog filled with worthy acts. The music mattered, and its quality was important, regardless of what the corporate suits at the top of the chain were concerned about.
Nowadays, it seems like anything and everything is released, regardless of quality. Why is that a good thing? Do you really believe that the newest album by those indie sweethearts will stand the test of time and rank up there with the icons of the industry? I've done my fair share of griping about the fact that the top albums and acts of all time seems to be frozen in some sort of stasis, but there's something to be said about a discography that stands the test of time and doesn't lose any of its relevance. There are newer, or at least more recent, acts that are producing some tremendous material, Radiohead and Wilco to name two, that will be around for a long time and influence a generation to come. I just don't see the need to drown that influence out with a ton of music that won't be around that long. Sometimes more isn't better.
Saturday, February 11, 2012
End of an Occupation
The Occupy Pittsburgh encampment on Mellon Green was officially vacated this week, due to a court order demanding the removal of all protestors and their belongings. All that remains of the months long protest is the dead grass of a once beautiful park and chain link fencing installed to keep everyone out. Rumors abound that the protestors are planning on returning in the spring to set up shop once again, which would probably coincide with the reopening of the park itself to the general public that has had to do without the luxury of having a green space within walking distance of their offices for four months, albeit these were winter months when the park would not likely have been used much, but the point remains that it was, for all intents and purposes, occupied and off limits.
That said, it should come as no surprise that the occupation ended not with a bang but a whimper. The protestors were mostly nonexistent throughout much of their stay. Those that were present seemed more intent on spending their time huddled in masses and rarely, if ever, engaging the very public they were trying to get their message out to. Their ramshackle assortment of tents were the main occupiers and provided the symbolism of a public space that had been taken over in the name of economic justice or any other variety of issues. This lack of a coherent, agreed upon message is another matter altogether that did not help this movement and may have done more harm than good.
Much can be said about the merits of a non-confrontational approach to protesting. Signaling not only to the business community but to the very corporations that own and maintain the very space which you seek to occupy that you're not going to present a threat is a smart idea that can only generate goodwill and may engender sympathy and a willingness to take the issues at hand into consideration. There is no need to let the occupation spiral out of control into a daily confrontation with law enforcement. However, this very lack of passion or guile is probably what doomed this incarnation of the Occupy Wall Street movement from day one.
The meekness on the part of the protestors and their unwillingness to actually get their message out into the open other than through the simple activity of scrawling words on to a sign signaled to the public that these people were kind and well mannered. They may have issues with the current economic structure of the United States, but at least they aren't going to be bothering anyone on their way to work. However, when you refuse to try to engage anyone in conversation and your daily activities are decided on an obvious whim, then you're more than likely to not only fail at your primary mission but also wear out your welcome. What would most likely have been dismissed by those inclined to either not care about the issues or who are part of the problem, in this case the 1%, is now seen as nothing more than an eyesore and a problem that should be taken care of. When the most common remarks made are the fact that there doesn't seem to be anyone there and the incoherent message being espoused, you know your protest is not going well and is about to expire.
No one was clamoring for a standoff or a prolonged confrontation with law enforcement or drawn out legal proceedings, especially when the impetus for the original occupation withered on the vine long ago. It's a shame, though, that there wasn't at least a little spark that lingered, because the issues themselves are important. At the peak attendance, however, you had so many signs signaling that they were there protesting everything from income inequality of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq to UPMC in general to numerous other causes. The experience of seeing all of these issues thrown at you at once is both mindboggling and exasperating. A deluge of issues is the only way to describe the bombardment.
One can't help but think that Pittsburgh got caught up in the moment and decided to try its hand at jumping on the Occupy bandwagon. However, no one seemed to put any thought into how this was all going to play out. It seems likely that the highest level decision consisted of where exactly to occupy. I don't know how the organizational structure of the various other Occupy movements that are still active operate, but there surely is a very basic rubric that they're following that's devised by some sort of hierarchy. Pittsburgh's, on the other hand, was leaderless from the start and quickly descended into a ragtag morass with little or no one to claim responsibility and, in the end, hardly anyone left to care. And now with a court ordered eviction and an off limits park, the movement comes to an end.
The Occupy Pittsburgh encampment on Mellon Green was officially vacated this week, due to a court order demanding the removal of all protestors and their belongings. All that remains of the months long protest is the dead grass of a once beautiful park and chain link fencing installed to keep everyone out. Rumors abound that the protestors are planning on returning in the spring to set up shop once again, which would probably coincide with the reopening of the park itself to the general public that has had to do without the luxury of having a green space within walking distance of their offices for four months, albeit these were winter months when the park would not likely have been used much, but the point remains that it was, for all intents and purposes, occupied and off limits.
That said, it should come as no surprise that the occupation ended not with a bang but a whimper. The protestors were mostly nonexistent throughout much of their stay. Those that were present seemed more intent on spending their time huddled in masses and rarely, if ever, engaging the very public they were trying to get their message out to. Their ramshackle assortment of tents were the main occupiers and provided the symbolism of a public space that had been taken over in the name of economic justice or any other variety of issues. This lack of a coherent, agreed upon message is another matter altogether that did not help this movement and may have done more harm than good.
Much can be said about the merits of a non-confrontational approach to protesting. Signaling not only to the business community but to the very corporations that own and maintain the very space which you seek to occupy that you're not going to present a threat is a smart idea that can only generate goodwill and may engender sympathy and a willingness to take the issues at hand into consideration. There is no need to let the occupation spiral out of control into a daily confrontation with law enforcement. However, this very lack of passion or guile is probably what doomed this incarnation of the Occupy Wall Street movement from day one.
The meekness on the part of the protestors and their unwillingness to actually get their message out into the open other than through the simple activity of scrawling words on to a sign signaled to the public that these people were kind and well mannered. They may have issues with the current economic structure of the United States, but at least they aren't going to be bothering anyone on their way to work. However, when you refuse to try to engage anyone in conversation and your daily activities are decided on an obvious whim, then you're more than likely to not only fail at your primary mission but also wear out your welcome. What would most likely have been dismissed by those inclined to either not care about the issues or who are part of the problem, in this case the 1%, is now seen as nothing more than an eyesore and a problem that should be taken care of. When the most common remarks made are the fact that there doesn't seem to be anyone there and the incoherent message being espoused, you know your protest is not going well and is about to expire.
No one was clamoring for a standoff or a prolonged confrontation with law enforcement or drawn out legal proceedings, especially when the impetus for the original occupation withered on the vine long ago. It's a shame, though, that there wasn't at least a little spark that lingered, because the issues themselves are important. At the peak attendance, however, you had so many signs signaling that they were there protesting everything from income inequality of the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq to UPMC in general to numerous other causes. The experience of seeing all of these issues thrown at you at once is both mindboggling and exasperating. A deluge of issues is the only way to describe the bombardment.
One can't help but think that Pittsburgh got caught up in the moment and decided to try its hand at jumping on the Occupy bandwagon. However, no one seemed to put any thought into how this was all going to play out. It seems likely that the highest level decision consisted of where exactly to occupy. I don't know how the organizational structure of the various other Occupy movements that are still active operate, but there surely is a very basic rubric that they're following that's devised by some sort of hierarchy. Pittsburgh's, on the other hand, was leaderless from the start and quickly descended into a ragtag morass with little or no one to claim responsibility and, in the end, hardly anyone left to care. And now with a court ordered eviction and an off limits park, the movement comes to an end.
Saturday, November 26, 2011
Occupation without a Message
The Occupy Wall Street movement has been gripping the nation for the last three months, spreading from its origin points in New York to various outcroppings throughout the country. These offshoots of the original range from the large in size, for example Oakland, California, to the small in nature, see the almost always desolate sight of Occupy Pittsburgh. What all of these have in common, though, regardless of size, is their intent to bring attention to the economic inequality pervading the country. The differences between the haves and the have nots have never been so apparent, and, with the continuing worsening of the economy, it appears as if the gap will be doing nothing but widening for the foreseeable future. Surely, this is a worthy cause worth rallying around and should be more than evident to most Americans. However, it's not.
The problem may be to due to the fact that the very simple message of economic inequality is being drowned out by various other voices, some not as passive as those who started the movement would invariably claim. The various causes championed at any given sight are so divergent and seemingly random in nature as to provide any passerby with a vision not of a democratic movement but of a scattered, rag tag convergence of any number of causes that don't necessarily fit under the same umbrella.
Further degrading the movement and its message, regardless of its clarity and coherence, has been an increasingly hostile reaction by city officials who are at wits end trying to strike a balance between First Amendment Rights, the rights to assemble and protest and the, for lack of a better term, occupation of highly trafficked public spaces that, for all intents and purposes have been held hostage by the Occupy Movement. The evictions of protestors from New York to California have been handled with anything but kid gloves and resemble nothing short of a police action that puts one in mind of how security forces violently clear the streets of protestors in many Middle Eastern countries. The disturbing scenes of violence by police officers on seemingly passive protestors is more than troubling and seems guided more out of a need to send a hard to ignore message to anyone thinking of striking up a similar movement in the future than the simple task of clearing a public space would require. Overkill isn't a strong enough term for this action.
Which brings us back to the message itself. If there had been some more coordination between the various Occupy sights and the appointment of some form of central leadership that was able to convey a coherent, on point message, would this movement have spiraled out of control as it had? Probably not, or at least it wouldn't have been greeted with such a hostile reaction by city officials and it may have served to generate more sympathy from many of the media outlets and politicians that have simply written this entire movement off as a bunch of jobless individuals who are complaining about something that they don't deserve to complain about. The very lack of a message allows people, like a Frank Miller, to simply write off these protestors as a bunch of thieves and "rapists" without batting an eye.
I personally support the Occupy movement, in theory. However, a lack of a clear message and the lack of any sort of centralized leadership leads me to believe that it's not something I can really support in principal. A mishmash of grievances, no matter how much I agree with each and every one of them, does not a movement make.
The Occupy Wall Street movement has been gripping the nation for the last three months, spreading from its origin points in New York to various outcroppings throughout the country. These offshoots of the original range from the large in size, for example Oakland, California, to the small in nature, see the almost always desolate sight of Occupy Pittsburgh. What all of these have in common, though, regardless of size, is their intent to bring attention to the economic inequality pervading the country. The differences between the haves and the have nots have never been so apparent, and, with the continuing worsening of the economy, it appears as if the gap will be doing nothing but widening for the foreseeable future. Surely, this is a worthy cause worth rallying around and should be more than evident to most Americans. However, it's not.
The problem may be to due to the fact that the very simple message of economic inequality is being drowned out by various other voices, some not as passive as those who started the movement would invariably claim. The various causes championed at any given sight are so divergent and seemingly random in nature as to provide any passerby with a vision not of a democratic movement but of a scattered, rag tag convergence of any number of causes that don't necessarily fit under the same umbrella.
Further degrading the movement and its message, regardless of its clarity and coherence, has been an increasingly hostile reaction by city officials who are at wits end trying to strike a balance between First Amendment Rights, the rights to assemble and protest and the, for lack of a better term, occupation of highly trafficked public spaces that, for all intents and purposes have been held hostage by the Occupy Movement. The evictions of protestors from New York to California have been handled with anything but kid gloves and resemble nothing short of a police action that puts one in mind of how security forces violently clear the streets of protestors in many Middle Eastern countries. The disturbing scenes of violence by police officers on seemingly passive protestors is more than troubling and seems guided more out of a need to send a hard to ignore message to anyone thinking of striking up a similar movement in the future than the simple task of clearing a public space would require. Overkill isn't a strong enough term for this action.
Which brings us back to the message itself. If there had been some more coordination between the various Occupy sights and the appointment of some form of central leadership that was able to convey a coherent, on point message, would this movement have spiraled out of control as it had? Probably not, or at least it wouldn't have been greeted with such a hostile reaction by city officials and it may have served to generate more sympathy from many of the media outlets and politicians that have simply written this entire movement off as a bunch of jobless individuals who are complaining about something that they don't deserve to complain about. The very lack of a message allows people, like a Frank Miller, to simply write off these protestors as a bunch of thieves and "rapists" without batting an eye.
I personally support the Occupy movement, in theory. However, a lack of a clear message and the lack of any sort of centralized leadership leads me to believe that it's not something I can really support in principal. A mishmash of grievances, no matter how much I agree with each and every one of them, does not a movement make.
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Quick Hits: Wrestling
If someone were to reveal that Vince McMahon actually goes out of his way to do the opposite of what is being speculated upon in the Internet Wrestling Community, I, for one, wouldn't be surprised. After weeks of build up with cryptic ads featuring a trench coat clad figure and the ominous date of 2/21/11, it was revealed on Monday Night Raw, that the figure was nothing more than the returning Undertaker. That fact was pretty much a given, but the rumor mill started firing up that the figure in black was in fact Sting, who has never wrestled for the WWE. In what would amount to a major coup, Sting would make his debut at Wrestlemania and challenge the Undertaker, or at least that's what a lot of people, myself included, were hoping for. However, everyone was treated with nothing more than the return of the Undertaker and the return of HHH, who, in all likelihood, will be challenging the Undertaker's unbeaten streak at Wrestlemania. All in all, quite a letdown.
Speaking of HHH, he has been off of WWE programming since last Wrestlemania when he was defeated by Sheamus. Although, it was speculated, albeit wrongly every time, that he would return at various points of the year, no one ever seemed to get the impression that HHH was done with wrestling. Now, that he's back and a more complete picture appears, including promos for a new film he's starring in, it's almost as if everyone feels like they've known all along that HHH wasn't coming back. What's more likely is that HHH will put up his career versus the Undertaker's undefeated streak and lose and ride off in the sunset to make horrible, direct to dvd films ala Steve Austin.
Lastly, Sting did return this week, although it was to TNA and not the WWE. The reaction has been less than enthusiastic, most likely due to TNA's decision to hype the event as being the most important of the year, which it clearly isn't. However, when you take it at facevalue, you have to wonder what would have lived up to such hype and what was even possible. The detractors seem to forget that there aren't a lot of unemployed wrestlers out there with the star power that can send shockwaves by showing up on the competitor's programming. The likelihood of anyone like Chris Jericho, Dave Batista, or Steve Austin showing up on TNA are incredibly remote. Outside of those three and a few others, there aren't many names out there. That's why the idea that Sting was coming to the WWE was not only enticing but more possible than the usual inane rumors. Two longtime TNA veterans, Booker T and Kevin Nash, showed up at the Royal Rumble, so Sting could defect, couldn't he? He could, but he didn't, and in an effort to save face, those very same columnists decided to downplay Sting's return as another blown opportunity by TNA and further proof of how inferior they are to the WWE, even though the WWE has been nothing but predictable for the better part of two or three years. Pay-per-views come and go, and nothing, and I mean nothing, but the most logical outcomes occur. And in yet another effort to save face, these same columnists heap praise upon the wrestling itself as a means to justify the spending of close to fifty dollars on a pay-per-view that hardly lives up to the expense. If the chances of anything special or out of the ordinary happening at these shows is nil, then there's no reason any of these matches couldn't be shown on free cable. Of course, that's not the point of pay-per-view. It's all about money, and the mere fact that anyone can whip up rumors about impending returns or storyline shifts that have absolutely zero chance of occurring, must make people like Vince McMahon happy that there are so many suckers out there.
If someone were to reveal that Vince McMahon actually goes out of his way to do the opposite of what is being speculated upon in the Internet Wrestling Community, I, for one, wouldn't be surprised. After weeks of build up with cryptic ads featuring a trench coat clad figure and the ominous date of 2/21/11, it was revealed on Monday Night Raw, that the figure was nothing more than the returning Undertaker. That fact was pretty much a given, but the rumor mill started firing up that the figure in black was in fact Sting, who has never wrestled for the WWE. In what would amount to a major coup, Sting would make his debut at Wrestlemania and challenge the Undertaker, or at least that's what a lot of people, myself included, were hoping for. However, everyone was treated with nothing more than the return of the Undertaker and the return of HHH, who, in all likelihood, will be challenging the Undertaker's unbeaten streak at Wrestlemania. All in all, quite a letdown.
Speaking of HHH, he has been off of WWE programming since last Wrestlemania when he was defeated by Sheamus. Although, it was speculated, albeit wrongly every time, that he would return at various points of the year, no one ever seemed to get the impression that HHH was done with wrestling. Now, that he's back and a more complete picture appears, including promos for a new film he's starring in, it's almost as if everyone feels like they've known all along that HHH wasn't coming back. What's more likely is that HHH will put up his career versus the Undertaker's undefeated streak and lose and ride off in the sunset to make horrible, direct to dvd films ala Steve Austin.
Lastly, Sting did return this week, although it was to TNA and not the WWE. The reaction has been less than enthusiastic, most likely due to TNA's decision to hype the event as being the most important of the year, which it clearly isn't. However, when you take it at facevalue, you have to wonder what would have lived up to such hype and what was even possible. The detractors seem to forget that there aren't a lot of unemployed wrestlers out there with the star power that can send shockwaves by showing up on the competitor's programming. The likelihood of anyone like Chris Jericho, Dave Batista, or Steve Austin showing up on TNA are incredibly remote. Outside of those three and a few others, there aren't many names out there. That's why the idea that Sting was coming to the WWE was not only enticing but more possible than the usual inane rumors. Two longtime TNA veterans, Booker T and Kevin Nash, showed up at the Royal Rumble, so Sting could defect, couldn't he? He could, but he didn't, and in an effort to save face, those very same columnists decided to downplay Sting's return as another blown opportunity by TNA and further proof of how inferior they are to the WWE, even though the WWE has been nothing but predictable for the better part of two or three years. Pay-per-views come and go, and nothing, and I mean nothing, but the most logical outcomes occur. And in yet another effort to save face, these same columnists heap praise upon the wrestling itself as a means to justify the spending of close to fifty dollars on a pay-per-view that hardly lives up to the expense. If the chances of anything special or out of the ordinary happening at these shows is nil, then there's no reason any of these matches couldn't be shown on free cable. Of course, that's not the point of pay-per-view. It's all about money, and the mere fact that anyone can whip up rumors about impending returns or storyline shifts that have absolutely zero chance of occurring, must make people like Vince McMahon happy that there are so many suckers out there.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
There is a fragile balance that must be adhered to when reporting on socioeconomic issues, especially in the days following a recession that threatens to turn into one of the double dip variety. President Obama recently signed a bill to extend the Bush era tax cuts for the wealthiest Americans, and he did so in exchange for an extension of long term unemployment benefits. Knowing this should be more than ample evidence that we're not out of the woods yet and that there are a lot of people out there feeling the bite of layoffs, slim prospects for jobs, and a sluggish economy that can't seem to get itself on track for longer than a week at a time. Listening to NPR, though, one might get the sense that we're actually in a period of sustained economic growth and not two steps removed from a second Depression.
When one listens to NPR, or reads publications such as the New York Times, there's a certain conceit one has to buy into: both are squarely aimed at liberals. This isn't a secret or even something that's not readily acknowledged. It just is.
What one expects from this type of liberal publication can be found in the editorials, analysis and reporting on a variety of issues. Along with this, one would expect a certain amount of sympathy for the lower classes, and one certainly gets this throughout the year, but especially during the holidays when individuals are featured in a series called the Neediest Cases in the New York Times. On NPR, one could recently hear a listener comment regarding the tale of giving jackets and other clothing to two impoverished school children.
All of this seems to be paying nothing more than lip service to the cause when it's balanced out with stories on NPR regarding shoppers having to face the indignity of patronizing a Wal-Mart instead of a Bloomingdales, or the numerous stories in the Times chronicling the hardly struggling classes tricking their spouses with generic versions of common grocery items like canned vegetables or the rise of the dollar store. This is not to mention the numerous stories of unemployed individuals who can't seem to find any work, which, on the face of it, may be true, but it seems to neglect to mention that the individuals, who had high paying jobs in any number of sectors, are looking for jobs only in that particular field and pay range. None of these stories seem to feature typical lower class workers from the service industry or any other types of jobs that have been decimated in these harsh times.
The low point of this particular trend seemed to be in evidence during Friday's broadcast of Morning Edition. The author, Steve Dublanica, of Keep The Change: A Clueless Tipper's Quest To Become The Guru Of The Gratuity gave helpful hints on how much to tip during the holiday season. How much, for instance, does your doorman or gardener deserve? How about a week's salary! Tips on top of tips, especially during the holidays, seems to be the call of the day for those wealthy enough to have a doorman. One only needs to peruse the comments to see that my reaction is hardly uncommon. Terms and phrases such as "bribes" and "subsidizing an employer's ability to employ and employee" are scattered throughout, as is "cheapskate" for those who don't tip and, thus, are deserving of substandard service.
Sure, tips are a large part of a large portion of the service industry's many employees, but this type of story serves little purpose in furthering the notion that if pay scales were corrected and these workers actually made a livable wage, the need to rely on tips would not exist. When a doorman confides that he makes upwards of $9000 on tips, which constitutes a huge portion of his yearly income, one has to wonder whether or not this is 1. a lie 2. the truth that has happened on more than one occasion and that it has, in fact, become a huge percentage of his yearly income simply because it's happened and is expected. Expecting a gift and actually needing it are two different things, and, again, this seems lost on NPR, which does nothing but solidify my belief that they are superficial at best and condescending and demeaning at worst.
When one listens to NPR, or reads publications such as the New York Times, there's a certain conceit one has to buy into: both are squarely aimed at liberals. This isn't a secret or even something that's not readily acknowledged. It just is.
What one expects from this type of liberal publication can be found in the editorials, analysis and reporting on a variety of issues. Along with this, one would expect a certain amount of sympathy for the lower classes, and one certainly gets this throughout the year, but especially during the holidays when individuals are featured in a series called the Neediest Cases in the New York Times. On NPR, one could recently hear a listener comment regarding the tale of giving jackets and other clothing to two impoverished school children.
All of this seems to be paying nothing more than lip service to the cause when it's balanced out with stories on NPR regarding shoppers having to face the indignity of patronizing a Wal-Mart instead of a Bloomingdales, or the numerous stories in the Times chronicling the hardly struggling classes tricking their spouses with generic versions of common grocery items like canned vegetables or the rise of the dollar store. This is not to mention the numerous stories of unemployed individuals who can't seem to find any work, which, on the face of it, may be true, but it seems to neglect to mention that the individuals, who had high paying jobs in any number of sectors, are looking for jobs only in that particular field and pay range. None of these stories seem to feature typical lower class workers from the service industry or any other types of jobs that have been decimated in these harsh times.
The low point of this particular trend seemed to be in evidence during Friday's broadcast of Morning Edition. The author, Steve Dublanica, of Keep The Change: A Clueless Tipper's Quest To Become The Guru Of The Gratuity gave helpful hints on how much to tip during the holiday season. How much, for instance, does your doorman or gardener deserve? How about a week's salary! Tips on top of tips, especially during the holidays, seems to be the call of the day for those wealthy enough to have a doorman. One only needs to peruse the comments to see that my reaction is hardly uncommon. Terms and phrases such as "bribes" and "subsidizing an employer's ability to employ and employee" are scattered throughout, as is "cheapskate" for those who don't tip and, thus, are deserving of substandard service.
Sure, tips are a large part of a large portion of the service industry's many employees, but this type of story serves little purpose in furthering the notion that if pay scales were corrected and these workers actually made a livable wage, the need to rely on tips would not exist. When a doorman confides that he makes upwards of $9000 on tips, which constitutes a huge portion of his yearly income, one has to wonder whether or not this is 1. a lie 2. the truth that has happened on more than one occasion and that it has, in fact, become a huge percentage of his yearly income simply because it's happened and is expected. Expecting a gift and actually needing it are two different things, and, again, this seems lost on NPR, which does nothing but solidify my belief that they are superficial at best and condescending and demeaning at worst.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
The Slasher Film
Going to Pieces: The Rise and the Fall of the Slasher Film presents a thorough history of the slasher film that saw its peak in the early 80s with the release of numerous films that cashed in on the template provided by, what most consider the first of its kind, Halloween. What's interesting about the history of the slasher film, which unlike most other films in the horror genre that are relegated to the status of substandard film and/or dismissed as nothing more than a step above pornography, is the contempt and hatred felt towards them by many critics and the easily offended public.
Slasher films, like most other films, follow a pattern and narrative structure that's easily dissected, pardon the pun, and thus quite easily imitated, hence the glut of films during this period, a good portion of which are not very good. Aside from the obvious violence and gore, most critics felt that the films objectified women as victims of a sexually frustrated male figure, who slaughters them in any number of disturbing and horrifying ways. Lost on many is the fact that most of these films feature very highly intelligent and prominent female figures who, more often than not, serve as the heroine who stops the kill crazy rampage. Also lost are the many deeper themes that are addressed, like the white flight syndrome and conservative notions of sexual freedom, as evidenced by the fact that victims in many of these films are sexually promiscuous. The fact of the matter is that, like any other work of art, slasher films can be critically appreciated on a level equivalent to those of more revered genres.
Now, while it's all fine and good to think that slasher films can and should be accepted as legitimate works, that's not to say they are without problems. While one can dismiss most as wholly unrealistic and far fetched, there are those that push the boundaries, the most notorious being Silent Night, Deadly Night. What struck a cord with this film is the fact that the killer wore a Santa Claus outfit throughout. Clearly, co-opting such a prominent figure and transforming him into a killer is going to rub some people the wrong way and while it's easy to dismiss those who balk as being hyper sensitive and incapable of parenting, one argument that isn't made is the fact that the majority of the killers in these films, from Jason Vorhees to Freddy Krueger to Michael Myers, are wholly supernatural and unrealistic in all aspects. The killer in the Silent Night, Deadly Night series is clearly a troubled individual who, while committing equally absurd acts, could be found in the real world. This does not take into account that the impetus for this transformation was the troubling and far more disturbing fact that, as a youth, he witnessed the rape and murder of his parents on the side of the road by a crazed killer in a Santa Claus suit. Taken as a whole, this is a blueprint for disaster. One would be hard pressed to dismiss any arguments against this type of film as flimsy.
Another troubling aspect of the genre is that every fan is assumed, and quite wrongly, to enjoy the slaughter in the films and simply views them in the hopes of seeing something they haven't seen before. I think this is hardly the case and seems quite at odds with the notion that these films should be taken seriously. What one saw in the evolution of the genre is that each subsequent release tried to one up the last in terms of gore and outrageous special effects. Obviously, these films are made to make money, but in some of the lesser films in the genre, it appears as if the filmmakers built a story around the killings and not vice versa.
Like most trends the genre seemed to sputter out in the late 80s and early 90s in a cloud of absurdity and tediousness. What happened in the meantime is that we entered the late 90s and the early 00s with the innovation of the internet that promised access to a vast underbelly of not only pornography but other disturbing content. Inevitably, when the slasher film was revived, it not only tried to update the conventions and market them to a new audience, it also had to push buttons that had grown increasingly difficult to push in this new information age. Why this is of concern is that defenders seem to fixate on the fact that, yes, this content is in fact available on the internet and, yes, kids aren't as easily shocked as they once were in the 80s when a arrow to the eye was cutting edge special effects. Ignored is the fact that, while it is in fact harder to shock and much more troubling news comes out of perpetual war and terror than any slasher film, we, as a society, especially our youth, seem to be growing desensitized to all sorts of traumas that should, on face value, be deeply disturbing and hard to shake.
I consider myself a fan of slasher films and enjoy them immensely, but I also find myself growing more disturbed by how far some of the new wave horror films push the boundaries. An R rating of a film surely seems more liberally applied now than in decades past, and by that I don't mean in terms of easily getting an R rating on a film that otherwise wouldn't be granted such. I sense that the levels of violence and disturbing content are pushed to the very limits in terms of acceptability by a board that is notoriously conservative in nature. Hypocritical seems like the right way to describe this and also seems to reinforce the fact that conservative repression is only buried skin deep. It's probably not a coincidence that the rise of the slasher film corresponded with the rise of Reagan.
Going to Pieces: The Rise and the Fall of the Slasher Film presents a thorough history of the slasher film that saw its peak in the early 80s with the release of numerous films that cashed in on the template provided by, what most consider the first of its kind, Halloween. What's interesting about the history of the slasher film, which unlike most other films in the horror genre that are relegated to the status of substandard film and/or dismissed as nothing more than a step above pornography, is the contempt and hatred felt towards them by many critics and the easily offended public.
Slasher films, like most other films, follow a pattern and narrative structure that's easily dissected, pardon the pun, and thus quite easily imitated, hence the glut of films during this period, a good portion of which are not very good. Aside from the obvious violence and gore, most critics felt that the films objectified women as victims of a sexually frustrated male figure, who slaughters them in any number of disturbing and horrifying ways. Lost on many is the fact that most of these films feature very highly intelligent and prominent female figures who, more often than not, serve as the heroine who stops the kill crazy rampage. Also lost are the many deeper themes that are addressed, like the white flight syndrome and conservative notions of sexual freedom, as evidenced by the fact that victims in many of these films are sexually promiscuous. The fact of the matter is that, like any other work of art, slasher films can be critically appreciated on a level equivalent to those of more revered genres.
Now, while it's all fine and good to think that slasher films can and should be accepted as legitimate works, that's not to say they are without problems. While one can dismiss most as wholly unrealistic and far fetched, there are those that push the boundaries, the most notorious being Silent Night, Deadly Night. What struck a cord with this film is the fact that the killer wore a Santa Claus outfit throughout. Clearly, co-opting such a prominent figure and transforming him into a killer is going to rub some people the wrong way and while it's easy to dismiss those who balk as being hyper sensitive and incapable of parenting, one argument that isn't made is the fact that the majority of the killers in these films, from Jason Vorhees to Freddy Krueger to Michael Myers, are wholly supernatural and unrealistic in all aspects. The killer in the Silent Night, Deadly Night series is clearly a troubled individual who, while committing equally absurd acts, could be found in the real world. This does not take into account that the impetus for this transformation was the troubling and far more disturbing fact that, as a youth, he witnessed the rape and murder of his parents on the side of the road by a crazed killer in a Santa Claus suit. Taken as a whole, this is a blueprint for disaster. One would be hard pressed to dismiss any arguments against this type of film as flimsy.
Another troubling aspect of the genre is that every fan is assumed, and quite wrongly, to enjoy the slaughter in the films and simply views them in the hopes of seeing something they haven't seen before. I think this is hardly the case and seems quite at odds with the notion that these films should be taken seriously. What one saw in the evolution of the genre is that each subsequent release tried to one up the last in terms of gore and outrageous special effects. Obviously, these films are made to make money, but in some of the lesser films in the genre, it appears as if the filmmakers built a story around the killings and not vice versa.
Like most trends the genre seemed to sputter out in the late 80s and early 90s in a cloud of absurdity and tediousness. What happened in the meantime is that we entered the late 90s and the early 00s with the innovation of the internet that promised access to a vast underbelly of not only pornography but other disturbing content. Inevitably, when the slasher film was revived, it not only tried to update the conventions and market them to a new audience, it also had to push buttons that had grown increasingly difficult to push in this new information age. Why this is of concern is that defenders seem to fixate on the fact that, yes, this content is in fact available on the internet and, yes, kids aren't as easily shocked as they once were in the 80s when a arrow to the eye was cutting edge special effects. Ignored is the fact that, while it is in fact harder to shock and much more troubling news comes out of perpetual war and terror than any slasher film, we, as a society, especially our youth, seem to be growing desensitized to all sorts of traumas that should, on face value, be deeply disturbing and hard to shake.
I consider myself a fan of slasher films and enjoy them immensely, but I also find myself growing more disturbed by how far some of the new wave horror films push the boundaries. An R rating of a film surely seems more liberally applied now than in decades past, and by that I don't mean in terms of easily getting an R rating on a film that otherwise wouldn't be granted such. I sense that the levels of violence and disturbing content are pushed to the very limits in terms of acceptability by a board that is notoriously conservative in nature. Hypocritical seems like the right way to describe this and also seems to reinforce the fact that conservative repression is only buried skin deep. It's probably not a coincidence that the rise of the slasher film corresponded with the rise of Reagan.
Sunday, April 25, 2010
Next
Fiction is never a true representation of real life, hence it's attraction and lasting legacy. However, it pains a reader to have to endure such instances in fiction that feel forced or contrived in what is otherwise an interesting and appealing work. There are certain genres that certainly are based solely on these contrivances and that constitute their backbone, but when you are in the midst of a work that doesn't feel as if it should be considered threadbare and trite, it devalues the work in such a way that any resemblance or relationship you might have had with the characters is disregarded. James Hynes' novel, Next, is just such a fictional work.
What starts out with a premise that's easily recognizable to anyone who has drifted career-wise quickly turns into a rumination on the absurd. The narrator, Kevin Quinn, boards a plane to fly to Austin, Texas in the hopes of landing a job at a publishing company. Kevin, who is fifty years old, has been working as nothing more than a glorified staffer at a local university in Michigan. (In the interest of full disclosure, I worked at a university in a staff job for four years and know and can relate to the predicament Kevin finds himself in, but my empathy ends with that simple trait.) Surely, rational behavior is not what one reads fiction to encounter. Plain, run-of-the-mill daily minutiae does not make for a good, gripping narrative. However, when the actions of a character shift from truly humanistic to implausibly irrational, it's hard to remain invested either emotionally or simply quizzically in the hopes of following a narrative arc to its logical and well earned conclusion. This is shameful, because Hynes constructs a perfect setup for a novel in our day and age.
Terrorism, and the fear of it, weighs heavily on Kevin. Anyone in America can relate to this sense of unease that has pervaded the country in the years since 9/11. While 9/11 alone would have provided Hynes with more than enough to endear Kevin to the reader, he goes further in having subsequent attacks having happened in the recent past that weigh heavily on Kevin and hears unceasing fear. Having that backdrop may have been enough to sustain our interest in Kevin, but Hynes isn't content to leave it at that.
Kevin's obsessiveness quickly drifts from the fear of attack to the desire to follow his seatmate on the plane. Thus, the entire narrative descends into the realm of the ludicrous. And this is in the span of the first fifty or so pages. What can be described as a man in the midst of a mid-life crisis seems to devolve into the ruminations of a man past his prime both in terms of a new career as well as with the opposite sex. As Kevin totally abandons the realm of the sane, nervous, eager to impress job seeker, his mind races from relationship to relationship that should be the last thing one would expect someone to be thinking about in the midst of a day in a new city with the express purpose of getting a new job. Adding insult to injury, Kevin's journey around the city apparently leaves his mind in such benumbed state that his ability to ascertain that during this very day another round of attacks are occurring has been lost in a haze of sexual regret and the looming prospect of fatherhood. It seems a stretch to concede that someone so infatuated with the possibility of a terrorist attack would be so oblivious to the fact that one is occurring. Paranoia, a trait that is clearly evident in the opening pages, is lost in what can only be described as a sad cataloging of past and present relations with women.
Kevin's quest may have been better served in a short story or novella form where it would have been less likely for the reader to become tired of the character amidst the main arc of the narrative. What makes Hynes' effort seem even more wasted is when you contrast his novel with Joshua Ferris' The Unnamed, which is based on an even more absurd premise, Tim Farnsworth's inability to stop walking, but who is infused with such delicate humanity and a family life that's both compelling and familiar. Ferris seems to take some flack for his writing, but I find that it's much less tiresome or filled with cliches that wear a reader down and bog a narrative in detritus. His sentiments might seem trite and trendy, but it's much more effective in terms of a novel. Hynes has previously descended into the realm of the supernatural in his novels that seemed to be grounded wholly in the real world. What happens when he tries to stay afoot in the real world is indicative that he's more adept at the former than the latter.
Fiction is never a true representation of real life, hence it's attraction and lasting legacy. However, it pains a reader to have to endure such instances in fiction that feel forced or contrived in what is otherwise an interesting and appealing work. There are certain genres that certainly are based solely on these contrivances and that constitute their backbone, but when you are in the midst of a work that doesn't feel as if it should be considered threadbare and trite, it devalues the work in such a way that any resemblance or relationship you might have had with the characters is disregarded. James Hynes' novel, Next, is just such a fictional work.
What starts out with a premise that's easily recognizable to anyone who has drifted career-wise quickly turns into a rumination on the absurd. The narrator, Kevin Quinn, boards a plane to fly to Austin, Texas in the hopes of landing a job at a publishing company. Kevin, who is fifty years old, has been working as nothing more than a glorified staffer at a local university in Michigan. (In the interest of full disclosure, I worked at a university in a staff job for four years and know and can relate to the predicament Kevin finds himself in, but my empathy ends with that simple trait.) Surely, rational behavior is not what one reads fiction to encounter. Plain, run-of-the-mill daily minutiae does not make for a good, gripping narrative. However, when the actions of a character shift from truly humanistic to implausibly irrational, it's hard to remain invested either emotionally or simply quizzically in the hopes of following a narrative arc to its logical and well earned conclusion. This is shameful, because Hynes constructs a perfect setup for a novel in our day and age.
Terrorism, and the fear of it, weighs heavily on Kevin. Anyone in America can relate to this sense of unease that has pervaded the country in the years since 9/11. While 9/11 alone would have provided Hynes with more than enough to endear Kevin to the reader, he goes further in having subsequent attacks having happened in the recent past that weigh heavily on Kevin and hears unceasing fear. Having that backdrop may have been enough to sustain our interest in Kevin, but Hynes isn't content to leave it at that.
Kevin's obsessiveness quickly drifts from the fear of attack to the desire to follow his seatmate on the plane. Thus, the entire narrative descends into the realm of the ludicrous. And this is in the span of the first fifty or so pages. What can be described as a man in the midst of a mid-life crisis seems to devolve into the ruminations of a man past his prime both in terms of a new career as well as with the opposite sex. As Kevin totally abandons the realm of the sane, nervous, eager to impress job seeker, his mind races from relationship to relationship that should be the last thing one would expect someone to be thinking about in the midst of a day in a new city with the express purpose of getting a new job. Adding insult to injury, Kevin's journey around the city apparently leaves his mind in such benumbed state that his ability to ascertain that during this very day another round of attacks are occurring has been lost in a haze of sexual regret and the looming prospect of fatherhood. It seems a stretch to concede that someone so infatuated with the possibility of a terrorist attack would be so oblivious to the fact that one is occurring. Paranoia, a trait that is clearly evident in the opening pages, is lost in what can only be described as a sad cataloging of past and present relations with women.
Kevin's quest may have been better served in a short story or novella form where it would have been less likely for the reader to become tired of the character amidst the main arc of the narrative. What makes Hynes' effort seem even more wasted is when you contrast his novel with Joshua Ferris' The Unnamed, which is based on an even more absurd premise, Tim Farnsworth's inability to stop walking, but who is infused with such delicate humanity and a family life that's both compelling and familiar. Ferris seems to take some flack for his writing, but I find that it's much less tiresome or filled with cliches that wear a reader down and bog a narrative in detritus. His sentiments might seem trite and trendy, but it's much more effective in terms of a novel. Hynes has previously descended into the realm of the supernatural in his novels that seemed to be grounded wholly in the real world. What happens when he tries to stay afoot in the real world is indicative that he's more adept at the former than the latter.
Saturday, January 02, 2010
The Corrections
It's been eight years since the initial release of Johnathan Franzen's eagerly anticipated novel, The Corrections. Upon its release in 2001, it was heralded as a masterpiece by a virtually unknown but promising Franzen. It was a book that was supposed to be as close to the Great American Novel as anyone could get within recent memory and came with about as much buzz as a book could get. It contained within it the portrait of a contemporary American family that spoke volumes about our condition and the state of the United States. It wasn't pretentious or postmodern in the least. It was accurate, and it told a straightforward tale that was moving in its portrayal of us. It did not fail to deliver on that wave of anticipation. A National Book Award winner proved that it was nothing short of a success.
Eight years, however, have blunted its affect in numerous ways, or maybe it's just in the eyes of this reviewer who has aged in those eight years. I don't feel the connection any longer to the Lambert family that I once did. The prose is still beautifully constructed, but the family portrait that once resonated with me, no longer does. Each member of the Lambert family is flawed to some extent, but, at one time, they held so much more that made you care about them that it was easy to overlook the superficial aspects that were lurking in the background. Now, it's not that easy.
Alfred Lambert, the focal point of the book, suffers from Parkinson's Disease and dementia, and his struggle is still painful to witness and heartbreaking in its brutal swiftness. What stands out on a second reading is just how normal and besieged the patriarch seems. Often, the sections depicting his decline are wrenching, especially when put into the context of one's own aging parents. However, what starts out promising takes a leap into the commonplace when Alfred and Enid's sexual lives are probed in ways that aren't necessary to complete the character. Alfred, a staunchly proud worker, amid a railroad system that's on the verge of being bought out, is surrounded by lesser men who can't control their impulses, or at least try to act on them in ways that society accepts. Alfred, on the other hand, seems repressed and nearly puritanical in his own silent suffering. His cold and brutal manner is mirrored in his frigid handling of Enid in all matters. Nearly halfway through the text, all sympathy for this afflicted individual has been exhausted. It's shameful that Franzen resorts to this tired and overplayed aspect of a man's character, because Alfred really could be more than just the sexually repressed head of, what is supposed to be, a typical family.
Enid and the children, Gary, Chip, and Denise, are likewise all deprived of sympathetic characteristics. Instead, Enid seems to exist in a state of denial and perpetual stupidity. A character that should be sympathetic throughout is tossed around as some sort of country rube in all matters, from Chip's non-existent job at the Wall Street Journal to her desire for one last Christmas at their home in St. Jude. Her struggles with maintaining anything that even resembles a normal home life with the deteriorating Alfred starts out as quite affecting, but the aforementioned aspects of her character quickly emerge and take over. Her fate, saved at the end, by a glimmer of hope and liberation is hardly worth the wait.
As for the children, basically all of their problems are the result of some sort of sexual or monetary proclivities and obsessions. All three suffer some form of a fall from grace, whether it's Gary's troubles with his all too perfect family to Denise's sexual dalliances with her boss and his wife to Chip's squandered academic career after having a drug and sex fueled encounter with a student. In all manners, the three are yuppies and betray any resemblance to most siblings from small town America.
And this is where Franzen falters. After such a strong set up, the entire family turns out to be nobody you can relate to on anything but a superficial level. They occupy an economic strata of society that demands that their problems, even one as serious as the impending death of the head of family, seem to be nothing more than minor disturbances in a life that's wholly owned and fueled by money and sexual appetites. Most small town families aren't like this in the least, mine isn't, and it strains credibility to think that anyone with a predominantly middle to lower class background could think anything remotely positive about the Lamberts.
Reading this book eight years ago, I'm sure I was blown away by the prose and the stunning portrayal of, what I thought at the time to be, a typical American family. Most of the postmodernist fiction that I was consuming at the time gave nothing but the barest bones in terms of characters, many of whom signified something else in terms of the greater narrative. Eight years and a growing appreciation for the realities of economic independence, have blunted the initial wave of awe. Franzen is a talented writer, to be sure, but in terms of portraying a typical family in the throes of disarray, he has some work to do.
It's been eight years since the initial release of Johnathan Franzen's eagerly anticipated novel, The Corrections. Upon its release in 2001, it was heralded as a masterpiece by a virtually unknown but promising Franzen. It was a book that was supposed to be as close to the Great American Novel as anyone could get within recent memory and came with about as much buzz as a book could get. It contained within it the portrait of a contemporary American family that spoke volumes about our condition and the state of the United States. It wasn't pretentious or postmodern in the least. It was accurate, and it told a straightforward tale that was moving in its portrayal of us. It did not fail to deliver on that wave of anticipation. A National Book Award winner proved that it was nothing short of a success.
Eight years, however, have blunted its affect in numerous ways, or maybe it's just in the eyes of this reviewer who has aged in those eight years. I don't feel the connection any longer to the Lambert family that I once did. The prose is still beautifully constructed, but the family portrait that once resonated with me, no longer does. Each member of the Lambert family is flawed to some extent, but, at one time, they held so much more that made you care about them that it was easy to overlook the superficial aspects that were lurking in the background. Now, it's not that easy.
Alfred Lambert, the focal point of the book, suffers from Parkinson's Disease and dementia, and his struggle is still painful to witness and heartbreaking in its brutal swiftness. What stands out on a second reading is just how normal and besieged the patriarch seems. Often, the sections depicting his decline are wrenching, especially when put into the context of one's own aging parents. However, what starts out promising takes a leap into the commonplace when Alfred and Enid's sexual lives are probed in ways that aren't necessary to complete the character. Alfred, a staunchly proud worker, amid a railroad system that's on the verge of being bought out, is surrounded by lesser men who can't control their impulses, or at least try to act on them in ways that society accepts. Alfred, on the other hand, seems repressed and nearly puritanical in his own silent suffering. His cold and brutal manner is mirrored in his frigid handling of Enid in all matters. Nearly halfway through the text, all sympathy for this afflicted individual has been exhausted. It's shameful that Franzen resorts to this tired and overplayed aspect of a man's character, because Alfred really could be more than just the sexually repressed head of, what is supposed to be, a typical family.
Enid and the children, Gary, Chip, and Denise, are likewise all deprived of sympathetic characteristics. Instead, Enid seems to exist in a state of denial and perpetual stupidity. A character that should be sympathetic throughout is tossed around as some sort of country rube in all matters, from Chip's non-existent job at the Wall Street Journal to her desire for one last Christmas at their home in St. Jude. Her struggles with maintaining anything that even resembles a normal home life with the deteriorating Alfred starts out as quite affecting, but the aforementioned aspects of her character quickly emerge and take over. Her fate, saved at the end, by a glimmer of hope and liberation is hardly worth the wait.
As for the children, basically all of their problems are the result of some sort of sexual or monetary proclivities and obsessions. All three suffer some form of a fall from grace, whether it's Gary's troubles with his all too perfect family to Denise's sexual dalliances with her boss and his wife to Chip's squandered academic career after having a drug and sex fueled encounter with a student. In all manners, the three are yuppies and betray any resemblance to most siblings from small town America.
And this is where Franzen falters. After such a strong set up, the entire family turns out to be nobody you can relate to on anything but a superficial level. They occupy an economic strata of society that demands that their problems, even one as serious as the impending death of the head of family, seem to be nothing more than minor disturbances in a life that's wholly owned and fueled by money and sexual appetites. Most small town families aren't like this in the least, mine isn't, and it strains credibility to think that anyone with a predominantly middle to lower class background could think anything remotely positive about the Lamberts.
Reading this book eight years ago, I'm sure I was blown away by the prose and the stunning portrayal of, what I thought at the time to be, a typical American family. Most of the postmodernist fiction that I was consuming at the time gave nothing but the barest bones in terms of characters, many of whom signified something else in terms of the greater narrative. Eight years and a growing appreciation for the realities of economic independence, have blunted the initial wave of awe. Franzen is a talented writer, to be sure, but in terms of portraying a typical family in the throes of disarray, he has some work to do.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Saturday, April 11, 2009
The Savage Detectives
Certain books haunt you long after you're done reading them. Images, passages, scenes, or entire texts can remain as reminders of another world for months. Not all writers strive for this affect, that's for sure, but it's a rare writer indeed, Roberto Bolano for one, who seems to create in such an ethereal manner that you're not quite sure why you're entranced by the prose or enchanted by the characters or their situations. A love for literature, poetry primarily, infuses his novel The Savage Detectives. Lost souls in search of the written word, who in fact have the written word infused into their DNA, populate the world Belano has created, one very much based on real life. Reading the book, however, bordered, at times, on the burdensome in nature. It was only after the book was long finished that I realized that I was missing it in so many ways. It gave a portrait of a world entirely alien to me, but at the same time infinitely ideal. Living a life as such a literary vagabond borders on the cliche and tiresome, but it's certainly one of the more dreamlike occupations anyone who feels the written word fantasizes about.
Certain books haunt you long after you're done reading them. Images, passages, scenes, or entire texts can remain as reminders of another world for months. Not all writers strive for this affect, that's for sure, but it's a rare writer indeed, Roberto Bolano for one, who seems to create in such an ethereal manner that you're not quite sure why you're entranced by the prose or enchanted by the characters or their situations. A love for literature, poetry primarily, infuses his novel The Savage Detectives. Lost souls in search of the written word, who in fact have the written word infused into their DNA, populate the world Belano has created, one very much based on real life. Reading the book, however, bordered, at times, on the burdensome in nature. It was only after the book was long finished that I realized that I was missing it in so many ways. It gave a portrait of a world entirely alien to me, but at the same time infinitely ideal. Living a life as such a literary vagabond borders on the cliche and tiresome, but it's certainly one of the more dreamlike occupations anyone who feels the written word fantasizes about.
Thursday, July 03, 2008
All the Sad Young Literary Men by Keith Gessen
Producing fiction centered on the current generation of thirty-somethings is an inherently risky enterprise that can either be fraught with superficial insights dressed up as academically inclined rhetoric and self-serving posturing, or, as in the case of Gessen's debut novel, a thoughtful, insightful look at how lives, even those of privilege, can go astray from the once grand expectations of youth leaving those affected to question what went wrong and why. Gessen, the controversial founder of the literary journal n+1 who has incurred the rancor of many literary bloggers due to the strong opinions, which I feel are incredibly accurate, concerning the state of the blogosphere, has, in my opinion, lived up to his own critical sense and produced a novel that is truly memorable, well written, and deeply affecting.
Generally, I would be the first person to rail against a novel with characters who attended Harvard, live in New York City and Boston, and generally have, what I would term, a yuppie-fied lifestyle as being wholly unrealistic, and unrelatable to me. However, Gessen doesn't go for the easy way out and have these characters achieve instant success and turn them into off putting caricatures of the young and educated with their decadent lifestyles. Instead, these characters encounter failures, public and private, in their lives and aren't handed successes that they squander. Perhaps, it's just a reflection of my own standing in life that I can take solace in the portrayal of educated men forced to spend the night in their car, or relate to characters who are genuinely concerned about their aging parents. What I found to be most realistic was the portrayal of graduate students floundering in their studies, procrastinating in their arts, and having the moments of realization that their liberal beliefs are easy to uphold and vehemently defend due to their ability to distance themselves from the issues, in this case the Israelis and the Palestinians. All of this added up to portrayals of people I recognize and can see traits of in myself. Of course, it's also a sad testimony on the state of academia when dissertation students are portrayed as being knowledgeable only on a minute bit of their studies and little of anything else. Is that what we're dealing with when we have a t.a. as an instructor? Hopefully, as in any case, these are the exceptions to the rule.
Gessen, in this case, has produced a book that is the antithesis of all that I find wrong in literature today. He is the anti-Roth, who has floundered for years taking the bare bones of a story and using it as a prop to dress up his standard character, the young Jewish male with an insatiable sexual appetite. Gessen doesn't dwell on the sex. It's there, don't get me wrong, but it's not the focal point, and he seems to recognize how romance and love really works in the world today. Roth, created a simple rubric to work from, and hasn't altered it in nearly fifty years. The issue, though, isn't how offensive the writing is, it is and it isn't, but the fact that Roth is a tremendous talent who has seen his personal stock rise as he puts out increasingly flat books that aren't very good or original. His writing is masterful, but he squanders the opportunity to give us something different. Gessen, a very talented writer in his own right, is the exact opposite. He probes the inner workings of the characters and shows you that lost feeling we all have. In my estimation, this is a much more accurate portrayal of how humans interact than Roth has ever given. Gessen knows people and has been around them, whereas Roth seems like he's operating under the assumption of how he thinks humans act.
What I can't reconcile is the fact that this book has been greeted with an enormous amount of backlash, particularly from the lit-blogs that Gessen has targeted in his magazine writing. Sure, some of this is to be expected, but the particular amount of venom aimed at Gessen seems to do little to dispute his charges and does more to justify them. Lit-bloggers, for all of their high-mindedness and open professing of their love of literature, seem to be more than a tad biased against Gessen and have written his book off from the start. Have any of them actually read it? I'm betting few have. If these bloggers really wanted to refute Gessen's claims about the pack mentality many of these lit-blogs have, then they should read the book and give an honest review instead of posting some juvenile dig at the man. In my estimation, it appears that, like a lot of areas of the media, the blogosphere and the literary world at large have blurred the lines and where, traditionally, never the two shall meet, there is now little to separate the two, gossip and fact go hand in hand, and smear posts pass as inspired, informed critique. Gessen and his ilk have a very high minded opinion on many things, but I would think the wisest policy would not be to lash back with half formed thoughts and taunts, but with an honest assessment of the situation and a thorough refutation of the charges, and you can find those but those aren't the ones making the most noise and thus are drowned out in the lifeless ether.
Gessen is definitely outspoken, and his personal life has become the fodder of gossip blogs as well as lit-blogs, but he's a writer as well, and he's produced an astonishing debut. Will it hold the test of time, or will it be book that reflects a moment, our moment, that will languish, forgotten on the shelves of memory and in the lit world? Perhaps. For now, though, it's one of the better books I've read in long, long time.
Producing fiction centered on the current generation of thirty-somethings is an inherently risky enterprise that can either be fraught with superficial insights dressed up as academically inclined rhetoric and self-serving posturing, or, as in the case of Gessen's debut novel, a thoughtful, insightful look at how lives, even those of privilege, can go astray from the once grand expectations of youth leaving those affected to question what went wrong and why. Gessen, the controversial founder of the literary journal n+1 who has incurred the rancor of many literary bloggers due to the strong opinions, which I feel are incredibly accurate, concerning the state of the blogosphere, has, in my opinion, lived up to his own critical sense and produced a novel that is truly memorable, well written, and deeply affecting.
Generally, I would be the first person to rail against a novel with characters who attended Harvard, live in New York City and Boston, and generally have, what I would term, a yuppie-fied lifestyle as being wholly unrealistic, and unrelatable to me. However, Gessen doesn't go for the easy way out and have these characters achieve instant success and turn them into off putting caricatures of the young and educated with their decadent lifestyles. Instead, these characters encounter failures, public and private, in their lives and aren't handed successes that they squander. Perhaps, it's just a reflection of my own standing in life that I can take solace in the portrayal of educated men forced to spend the night in their car, or relate to characters who are genuinely concerned about their aging parents. What I found to be most realistic was the portrayal of graduate students floundering in their studies, procrastinating in their arts, and having the moments of realization that their liberal beliefs are easy to uphold and vehemently defend due to their ability to distance themselves from the issues, in this case the Israelis and the Palestinians. All of this added up to portrayals of people I recognize and can see traits of in myself. Of course, it's also a sad testimony on the state of academia when dissertation students are portrayed as being knowledgeable only on a minute bit of their studies and little of anything else. Is that what we're dealing with when we have a t.a. as an instructor? Hopefully, as in any case, these are the exceptions to the rule.
Gessen, in this case, has produced a book that is the antithesis of all that I find wrong in literature today. He is the anti-Roth, who has floundered for years taking the bare bones of a story and using it as a prop to dress up his standard character, the young Jewish male with an insatiable sexual appetite. Gessen doesn't dwell on the sex. It's there, don't get me wrong, but it's not the focal point, and he seems to recognize how romance and love really works in the world today. Roth, created a simple rubric to work from, and hasn't altered it in nearly fifty years. The issue, though, isn't how offensive the writing is, it is and it isn't, but the fact that Roth is a tremendous talent who has seen his personal stock rise as he puts out increasingly flat books that aren't very good or original. His writing is masterful, but he squanders the opportunity to give us something different. Gessen, a very talented writer in his own right, is the exact opposite. He probes the inner workings of the characters and shows you that lost feeling we all have. In my estimation, this is a much more accurate portrayal of how humans interact than Roth has ever given. Gessen knows people and has been around them, whereas Roth seems like he's operating under the assumption of how he thinks humans act.
What I can't reconcile is the fact that this book has been greeted with an enormous amount of backlash, particularly from the lit-blogs that Gessen has targeted in his magazine writing. Sure, some of this is to be expected, but the particular amount of venom aimed at Gessen seems to do little to dispute his charges and does more to justify them. Lit-bloggers, for all of their high-mindedness and open professing of their love of literature, seem to be more than a tad biased against Gessen and have written his book off from the start. Have any of them actually read it? I'm betting few have. If these bloggers really wanted to refute Gessen's claims about the pack mentality many of these lit-blogs have, then they should read the book and give an honest review instead of posting some juvenile dig at the man. In my estimation, it appears that, like a lot of areas of the media, the blogosphere and the literary world at large have blurred the lines and where, traditionally, never the two shall meet, there is now little to separate the two, gossip and fact go hand in hand, and smear posts pass as inspired, informed critique. Gessen and his ilk have a very high minded opinion on many things, but I would think the wisest policy would not be to lash back with half formed thoughts and taunts, but with an honest assessment of the situation and a thorough refutation of the charges, and you can find those but those aren't the ones making the most noise and thus are drowned out in the lifeless ether.
Gessen is definitely outspoken, and his personal life has become the fodder of gossip blogs as well as lit-blogs, but he's a writer as well, and he's produced an astonishing debut. Will it hold the test of time, or will it be book that reflects a moment, our moment, that will languish, forgotten on the shelves of memory and in the lit world? Perhaps. For now, though, it's one of the better books I've read in long, long time.
Monday, March 03, 2008
The walk to work today brought with it the first hints of what's right around the corner with the coming of spring, a little warmth in the air. What I think is most interesting, however, is the strange contrast between the warmer air and the cold that the snow covered ground still generates. Even stranger are the occasional air pockets that are noticeably warmer than the air around them that one encounters infrequently enough to know that you're not imagining things. A strange phenomenon that I usually encounter by the river, but have noticed more and more in the confines of the land.
Monday, February 25, 2008
Politics
I'm already at wit's end with the seemingly downward spiral Hillary Clinton's personality has been in since the beginning of the year, but over the weekend she made another statement that seemed to indicate both her desperation and her inability to accept the reality of the moment, that being her losing the Democratic nomination to her chief rival Barack Obama. In what seems to be a typical outburst from her, which is hot on the heels of her accusing Obama of plagiarizing a portion of a recent speech, she now accused the Obama campaign of engaging in tactics "right out of Karl Rove's playbook." Rove, George W. Bush's chief political strategist, engaged in some of the more insidious mudslinging in recent memory. Just ask John McCain. So the analogy seems to ring pretty hallow when it's revealed that her comment is in reference to a flier that cites a newspaper article in which Clinton likens Nafta as a "boon" to the economy. Newsday, paper where the article appeared, stopped short of citing the Obama campaign of misuse, but rather said it was "misleading." How this a akin to suggesting the McCain has a "black child," is "insane," or "gay" to South Carolina voters is beyond me. To paraphrase Hillary, I think what we're seeing here are signs that she's clearly frustrated.
I'm already at wit's end with the seemingly downward spiral Hillary Clinton's personality has been in since the beginning of the year, but over the weekend she made another statement that seemed to indicate both her desperation and her inability to accept the reality of the moment, that being her losing the Democratic nomination to her chief rival Barack Obama. In what seems to be a typical outburst from her, which is hot on the heels of her accusing Obama of plagiarizing a portion of a recent speech, she now accused the Obama campaign of engaging in tactics "right out of Karl Rove's playbook." Rove, George W. Bush's chief political strategist, engaged in some of the more insidious mudslinging in recent memory. Just ask John McCain. So the analogy seems to ring pretty hallow when it's revealed that her comment is in reference to a flier that cites a newspaper article in which Clinton likens Nafta as a "boon" to the economy. Newsday, paper where the article appeared, stopped short of citing the Obama campaign of misuse, but rather said it was "misleading." How this a akin to suggesting the McCain has a "black child," is "insane," or "gay" to South Carolina voters is beyond me. To paraphrase Hillary, I think what we're seeing here are signs that she's clearly frustrated.
Sunday, February 24, 2008
Sanctuary by William Faulkner
William Faulkner's novel Sanctuary has the distinction of being the first book I've read in 2008. In short, it was horrendous. A short novel page-wise, although it seems much longer content wise, that is filled with the trappings one comes to expect from Faulkner, the southern setting, a large cast of characters, dense passages of impenetrable text, and what appears to be a total disconnect from the reality that most of us experience. Faulkner is renowned for his characters, some of whom appear to be the product of some form of incest or just happen to be afflicted with numerous mental deficiencies, and Sanctuary is littered with these very types, from Tommy, a stereotypical man-child, to Popeye, an impotent murderer/rapist, to Temple Drake, the main victim of Popeye's violence and sadism who also serves as the one character from civilization; she's a judge's daughter. This is usually a given when approaching a Faulkner novel, and it seems it's something that Cormac McCarthy's novels have picked up on as well, and while the difference between the two writers is vast enough, one can't help but wonder what impression either is trying to convey by littering their writing with these types of people. Furthermore, what Faulkner was pushing for in this novel is anyone's guess. He apparently stated that it was written solely for money at a time when pulp fiction was incredibly popular. However, it's hard to believe that Faulkner was even familiar with the trappings of the tales of Raymond Chandler when this is the type of knock off he produced.
The problems with the novel are numerous, but what stood out for me is the fact that the characters act in ways that are so far removed from how people act in reality, it's hard to generate any sort of feelings, ill or not, about them. A good portion of the novel takes place at the home of some bootleggers where Popeye and other associates linger about in what can only be described as a living nightmare. A sickly baby is kept in box behind the stove, Gowan Stevens, Temple's escort, spends the majority of the novel in a drunken stupor and is the sole reason for their being stranded at the house, a blind old man shuffles about and may or may not have eyes (presumably he's the father of the owner, Lee Goodwin), and Lee's wife, Ruby, when not checking on the child, spends her entire day preparing meals for the numerous criminals and miscreants who frequent the front porch of their house. Pages go by where Gowan and Temple are seemingly held hostage at this house, and the bizarre events that transpire are right out of a horror movie, specifically I was reminded of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Both in that film and this book, young people are held against their will by a family, in the loosest, sense of the term and terrorized for no apparent reason. In that film, though, it's a question of whether or not anyone is going to survive. In this book, you're never given the sense that it's even a question worth asking yourself. It just seems like a never ending nightmare. Incredibly, it doesn't end there.
Temple is later kept captive at a brothel that Popeye frequents, even though he's impotent and has no way to actually engage with the women there. Again, it's Faulkner's hallucinatory writing that suggests a break from reality that one can't really accept or figure out entirely. Furthermore, one can't be sure, but Temple's fragile mental state appears to be the result of Popeye raping her at the bootlegger's farm. It is further exacerbated by the fact the Popeye enlists another man to have sexual relations with Temple as he watches. Why this doesn't work, however, is that it's beyond ambiguous. The scene in question is written in such a manner that it's impossible to determine what occurs in the hayloft that Temple is hiding in other than the fact that Popeye kills Tommy. Subsequent references to her bleeding and the visits by a doctor seem to confirm that she's been raped, but it's too poorly written and bizarrely portrayed to feel like you've witnessed something awful. Finally, it's hard to accept the notion that she's being held captive in this place. Popeye comes and goes, but Temple just stays there. Why? It's suggested that she's been mentally scared and drinking heavily, but it doesn't account for why she just doesn't leave.
The rest of the novel centers around the nonsensical trial of Lee Goodwin for the murder of Tommy. Henry Benbow, a lawyer who left his wife and daughter for no apparent reason, serves as his counsel. Basically, we're witnesses to a public lynching and a poor attempt at courtroom drama.
What makes this book frustrating is that there's nothing in it to suggest that Faulkner was aiming to achieve something other than telling a straightforward story. There's no hidden symbols or writing that one is accustomed to seeing in the modernism of the time, or even in any of Faulkner's other books. Faulkner has admitted that this was done purely for money, although that's up for debate, but he also did some heavy editing on it as well, which leads one to believe that he was proud of this work and tried to polish it somewhat. It stands as one of his failures, though, and a not very interesting one at that.
William Faulkner's novel Sanctuary has the distinction of being the first book I've read in 2008. In short, it was horrendous. A short novel page-wise, although it seems much longer content wise, that is filled with the trappings one comes to expect from Faulkner, the southern setting, a large cast of characters, dense passages of impenetrable text, and what appears to be a total disconnect from the reality that most of us experience. Faulkner is renowned for his characters, some of whom appear to be the product of some form of incest or just happen to be afflicted with numerous mental deficiencies, and Sanctuary is littered with these very types, from Tommy, a stereotypical man-child, to Popeye, an impotent murderer/rapist, to Temple Drake, the main victim of Popeye's violence and sadism who also serves as the one character from civilization; she's a judge's daughter. This is usually a given when approaching a Faulkner novel, and it seems it's something that Cormac McCarthy's novels have picked up on as well, and while the difference between the two writers is vast enough, one can't help but wonder what impression either is trying to convey by littering their writing with these types of people. Furthermore, what Faulkner was pushing for in this novel is anyone's guess. He apparently stated that it was written solely for money at a time when pulp fiction was incredibly popular. However, it's hard to believe that Faulkner was even familiar with the trappings of the tales of Raymond Chandler when this is the type of knock off he produced.
The problems with the novel are numerous, but what stood out for me is the fact that the characters act in ways that are so far removed from how people act in reality, it's hard to generate any sort of feelings, ill or not, about them. A good portion of the novel takes place at the home of some bootleggers where Popeye and other associates linger about in what can only be described as a living nightmare. A sickly baby is kept in box behind the stove, Gowan Stevens, Temple's escort, spends the majority of the novel in a drunken stupor and is the sole reason for their being stranded at the house, a blind old man shuffles about and may or may not have eyes (presumably he's the father of the owner, Lee Goodwin), and Lee's wife, Ruby, when not checking on the child, spends her entire day preparing meals for the numerous criminals and miscreants who frequent the front porch of their house. Pages go by where Gowan and Temple are seemingly held hostage at this house, and the bizarre events that transpire are right out of a horror movie, specifically I was reminded of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Both in that film and this book, young people are held against their will by a family, in the loosest, sense of the term and terrorized for no apparent reason. In that film, though, it's a question of whether or not anyone is going to survive. In this book, you're never given the sense that it's even a question worth asking yourself. It just seems like a never ending nightmare. Incredibly, it doesn't end there.
Temple is later kept captive at a brothel that Popeye frequents, even though he's impotent and has no way to actually engage with the women there. Again, it's Faulkner's hallucinatory writing that suggests a break from reality that one can't really accept or figure out entirely. Furthermore, one can't be sure, but Temple's fragile mental state appears to be the result of Popeye raping her at the bootlegger's farm. It is further exacerbated by the fact the Popeye enlists another man to have sexual relations with Temple as he watches. Why this doesn't work, however, is that it's beyond ambiguous. The scene in question is written in such a manner that it's impossible to determine what occurs in the hayloft that Temple is hiding in other than the fact that Popeye kills Tommy. Subsequent references to her bleeding and the visits by a doctor seem to confirm that she's been raped, but it's too poorly written and bizarrely portrayed to feel like you've witnessed something awful. Finally, it's hard to accept the notion that she's being held captive in this place. Popeye comes and goes, but Temple just stays there. Why? It's suggested that she's been mentally scared and drinking heavily, but it doesn't account for why she just doesn't leave.
The rest of the novel centers around the nonsensical trial of Lee Goodwin for the murder of Tommy. Henry Benbow, a lawyer who left his wife and daughter for no apparent reason, serves as his counsel. Basically, we're witnesses to a public lynching and a poor attempt at courtroom drama.
What makes this book frustrating is that there's nothing in it to suggest that Faulkner was aiming to achieve something other than telling a straightforward story. There's no hidden symbols or writing that one is accustomed to seeing in the modernism of the time, or even in any of Faulkner's other books. Faulkner has admitted that this was done purely for money, although that's up for debate, but he also did some heavy editing on it as well, which leads one to believe that he was proud of this work and tried to polish it somewhat. It stands as one of his failures, though, and a not very interesting one at that.
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