I find it kind of annoying that words from “Jabberwocky” are ending up in the dictionary now. I’m not a Lewis Carroll afionado, but it’s always seemed to me that the magic of “Jabberwocky” is that Carroll’s words hint at meaning, by their sound and how they’re used with each other, but they are not real words. They don’t have fixed meanings, and that’s fine.
At least it’s fine with me.
(Also, I was sort of under the impression that the “vorpal sword” was just a named weapon, like Glamdring or Longclaw, but it seems I may have been wrong about that. I may have got that idea from Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland movie, where it’s treated that way. But, again, there’s no definite evidence, so, it could be either, really…)
Specifically on the subject of sex, it bothers me more and more that the Marvel movies are so sexless. Not that movies have to actually show sex, but it’s weird to have a huge cinematic universe were nobody ever seems to think about or want sex. Movies from the 1940s, for example, never actually showed sexual activity, but some of them were drenched in sexual thoughts and feelings and desires.
And this is specific to Marvel movies (there is sex in DC movies, for example), and it’s specific to the Marvel movies which were made after Marvel was bought by Disney. Tony Stark and Pepper Potts, introduced in the first Iron Man movie, which was pre-Disney, are clearly living and sleeping together.
2) I have the Washington Post app on my tablet, and they have a section called “Good News.” Most of the articles on the app change frequently, because the world is like that, but the few “Good News” articles are mostly the same, day after day after day, so it’s basically a reminder that there’s not a lot of good news these days.
Or you could skip the article and just watch the video (which is much more fun):
That has never failed to put a smile on my face, and I usually watch it once a day. I get particular pleasure from the fact that Dave Grohl sets the tempo at the beginning on the guitar, and Nandi follows it on the high-hat. But when she starts on the snare drum, she pushes the beat a little faster, which is absolutely her job at that moment.
I’ve embedded this clip before, and I’ve watched it many times, and I’ve watched reaction videos to it, but I just noticed something about it that I never saw before, and which nobody in any of the reaction videos has noticed either (though I’m sure somebody somewhere on the internet has noticed it before me).
Sansa Stark and her sister Arya are pretending that Arya is on trial, to catch Lord Petyr Baelish (“Littlefinger”) off guard as Sansa starts listing his crimes against the Stark family (and the realm as a whole). This obviously works — Baelish is fumbling, trying to assess his danger moment by moment, nowhere near as smooth as he usually is.
But there was a big fat clue right in front of him which he didn’t see. And which I didn’t see either, until now.
Arya is the one on trial, theoretically, but nobody takes away her weapons. Her sword (Needle) and her Valyrian steel dagger are still on her belt.
Arya is a Faceless Man, a master assassin, and she has killed a lot of people. Some online sources credit her with more kills than any other human character on the show. And Sansa knows this — she’s seen her sister in action.
If Arya had really been on trial, they would have tried to disarm her.
But, as I say, it slips right by. Until you see it, of course, and then it becomes “obvious.”
I do wonder if the writers thought it through like this, or if they just got lucky. I’ve had that happen — I read one of my old stories and I see something that I never thought about before and it happens to fit exactly correctly anyway.
Is it better to read five books once each, or is it better to read one book five times?
If you want to choose a good car to drive, it’s probably best to do research on a bunch of different ones, do some test drives, ask around from people who know cars, and so on.
However, if you want to figure out how to build a car, you might want to take one car apart and put it back together again, and then maybe do the same with another car, and so on.
When I first bought Inherent Vice (on my lunch hour, on the day it was published), I started to read it, and I ended up reading it pretty much continuously for the next five months, from the beginning to the end and then back to the beginning again, including listening to the audio book version many times. I figured out some interesting things about the book, wrote a lot of blog posts about it, and added extensive notes to the online Pynchon wiki.
I’m not sure if I learned any useful lessons to apply to my own writing, though. As I’ve mentioned before, when I’m reading Pynchon I’m always aware that any one of his sentences is better than any sentence I have ever written or am ever likely to write. So, not much to learn there.
Anyway, I am still poking around in Across the River and into the Trees, and I now have a second theory to add to my first one. I’m still testing them, though.
On the other hand, I’m definitely not going to devote five months to this project. There is pretty much no chance that I will figure out something which will elevate Across the River… to the level of Inherent Vice.
“I’m reading Across the River and Into the Trees now, which is interesting. It’s taking some work, but I think I’m beginning to understand what he [Hemingway] was going after. As he said to A.E. Hotchner (talking about this book, and critics), ‘In this book I have moved into calculus, having started with straight math, then moved to geometry, then algebra; and the next time out it it will be trigonometry. If they don’t understand that, to hell with them.'”
I’m not completely sure why I’m so excited, but this is intriguing:
“As we begin filming Crimes of the Future, just two days into this new adventure with David Cronenberg, it feels like we’ve entered a story he collaborated on with Samuel Beckett and William Burroughs, if that were possible,” said [Viggo] Mortensen in a statement. “We are being pulled into a world that is not quite like this or any other, and yet is one that feels strangely familiar, immediate and quite credible. I can’t wait to see where we end up.”
Or maybe it’s just this:
“Cronenberg serves up a rare original screenplay with Crimes of the Future (his last one was eXistenZ in 1999), which adds to the anticipation that’s surrounded the project since early details leaked this spring.”
eXistenZ. I was obsessed with that movie when it came out (I saw it four times in theaters — an all-time high for me) and wrote about it quite a bit.
I read the article linked to above just a few days ago, and since then I’ve watched eXistenZ three more times (not in a theater, unfortunately). It’s still as great as ever.
And as for the William Burroughs connection? Well, Cronenberg did direct Naked Lunch.
The Naked Lunch trailer gives you a sense of that movie, but it leaves out perhaps its best feature: a magnificent soundtrack by Howard Shore and Ornette Coleman. Shore also did the music for eXistenZ, and for the Lord of the Rings movies, and he is going to score Crimes of the Future.
I was taking a subway today, and, as we pulled into a station, I heard this announcement over the loudspeaker: “The alligator is at the center of the platform”
My first thought was, “Well, I’m glad I’m not getting off at this station.”
Then, thinking about it, I decided that the announcement had probably said “elevator,” rather than “alligator.”
This happens to me pretty regularly, especially when I have news radio on in the background while I’m focused on something else — I consistently hear things as weirder than they really are.
I decided to write a quick blog post about this, because for the last couple of weeks I’ve been assembling a list of possible short blog posts, and my idea was to write a long blog post, with a lot of little sections.
I usually have a lot of different To Do lists in various places, electronic and on paper (my little list of possible blog posts is just a small segment of the overall confusion), and it was kind of a relief to read the article and to realize that this is a general problem.
Anyway, there should be a few (shorter) blog posts coming soon. If I can just remember where I put my list…
2) Following up, to some extent, on my last post, I have two thoughts about the movie Star Wars: Rogue One.
a) This article talks about all the difficulties there were in getting the movie made — a very common story these days where the huge corporations which control movies and the directors and writers who create them are often at odds, and the writers and directors often come and go because of it. But, as the article points out, in some cases, like this one, the movie ends up pretty damn good anyway.
In spite of the “troubled production”? Because of the “troubled production”? Who knows, and who cares. Movies, like all works of art, are exactly as good as they are. It matters not how they got that way. And I like Rogue One a lot.
b) As I talked about last time, there are quite a few “cavalry” moments in Rogue One, and they’re great despite the fact that (spoiler) every significant character in the movie who doesn’t have to survive dies.
(The movie takes place right before the original Star Wars, and a few of the characters from that movie are also in this one, so of course those specific characters are going to live.)
Rogue One is kind of the Les Miserables of Star Wars movies. Everybody dies, but they die for a cause, and we know that the cause ultimately wins.
Also, the movie gives us Darth Vader for a total of about ten minutes, and he’s magnificent. Villains don’t always need history and psychology and motivations and weaknesses (Vader was much diminished by getting those things later on) — sometimes they just need height and black armor and a deep voice and a lightsaber and a brutal fighting style (and a certain amount of sardonic humor — but the humor kept appropriately separate from the fighting). None of the Marvel movies have come even close to giving us a Darth Vader.
3) I’m still thinking about, and poking around in, Across the River and into the Trees by Ernest Hemingway. It helped a bit to read the things he said about it to A. E. Hotchner right after the book was published, and I see now (I think) what he was doing in the beginning and ending chapters, which are quite good.
What he was trying to do in all those chapters in between, however, where the book veers from duck hunting to Colonel Cantwell’s weird and tedious (and doomed) romance with a young countess less than half his age, I have no clue. Yet.
It’s tempting to think that Renata is really just a fantasy lover that the colonel has conjured up as he’s nearing death, but Hemingway apparently anticipated this interpretation and there are quite a few things in the book which seem to have been placed there to discourage that idea.