Thursday, May 8, 2008
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
IN SEXO VERITAS?
When writers tackle sex in their writings, it instantly becomes a hot (no pun intended) conversation topic amongst the mere mortals that we are!
The reader is either enthralled…or enraged. It is almost as if books about sex (novels, poems, or essays) have the ultimate capacity to raise our adrenalin level!
Now, what the reader is often prone to forget, is that a sex book has to be put in context: in which year was it written? Are the events and scenes related older than the writing date or contemporary? Is the author mainly a trash writer or is he an accomplished novelist, someone who can also write about different subjects? Are the lexical fields used by the author understandable or does the reader need a dictionary (in case of extreme slang and/or obscenity)? What is the point of the book? Is there a hidden message? Is it an accurate depiction of a society at a given time?
Let’s con
sider some famous and/or infamous American and French examples. Philip Roth’s Portnoy’s Complaint, for instance is a genuine masterpiece: it brings together a comedy of manners about the Jewish American Experience and the psychoanalysis of the turbulent male adolescent mind. For all mothers out there, this would be the best gift you could buy for your sons: who knows, they might even start to like reading!
The reader is either enthralled…or enraged. It is almost as if books about sex (novels, poems, or essays) have the ultimate capacity to raise our adrenalin level!
Now, what the reader is often prone to forget, is that a sex book has to be put in context: in which year was it written? Are the events and scenes related older than the writing date or contemporary? Is the author mainly a trash writer or is he an accomplished novelist, someone who can also write about different subjects? Are the lexical fields used by the author understandable or does the reader need a dictionary (in case of extreme slang and/or obscenity)? What is the point of the book? Is there a hidden message? Is it an accurate depiction of a society at a given time?
Let’s con
sider some famous and/or infamous American and French examples. Philip Roth’s Portnoy’s Complaint, for instance is a genuine masterpiece: it brings together a comedy of manners about the Jewish American Experience and the psychoanalysis of the turbulent male adolescent mind. For all mothers out there, this would be the best gift you could buy for your sons: who knows, they might even start to like reading!Another scandalous and talented writer is Henry Miller. Sexus relates the author
’s life in the 1920s (and not, like a lot of readers wrongly assume, in the 1960s!). Of course there are pages full of very graphic details of his many sexual encounters. But out of 506 pages, it may be only 40% of it, the other 60% being dedicated to the making of a writer. The joy I felt from reading this book when I was 18 is nothing compared to the epiphany of reading it a second time in my 40s and finally understanding what a simple sentence such as: “To write (…) must be an act devoid of will” really means. To all struggling or acclaimed artists, be them writers, painters, musicians, you name it, this sentence rings so true. To dismiss Miller’s oeuvre or to consider it solely as “pornographic” is regrettable. If one does so, then what about the French Michel Houellebecq or his female counterpart Catherine Millet? Les particules élémentaires, Extension du domaine de la lutte, Plateforme, et La possibilité d’une île (to be easily renamed as « La possibilité du Nul » as far as I am concerned) by Houellebecq or the even more graphic La vie sexue
lle de Catherine M. by ArtPress Editor Catherine Millet cannot pretend to more than what they are: realistic, mechanical graphic descriptions of sexual orgies. There is no philosophical message here: even if Houellebecq likes to pose as a modern Pic de la Mirandole, he is in truth a libidinous middle-aged “man”, unable to raise it if not for the use of extremely obscene language… At least Catherine Millet does not pretend to a higher status than that of sexual explorer! We are far from Miller’s beautifully written pages, or from Roth’s insanely comical sentences.
Houellebecq and Millet depict their truth as to the state of the (or their) French wo
rld (s) and sex. About a year ago I managed to find an American writer, Walter Mosley, whose latest book was intriguingly similar to that of both Millet and Houellebecq. Set in New York in our 21st century, Killing Johnny Fry: A Sexistential Novel is one man’s response to his girlfriend’s infidelity. What is truly unsettling in this book is that its parallel sexual universe could well be a vision of what lies ahead for the generations to come. The sex games mentioned remind the reader of both The Satyricon and The Decameron. What redeems Mosley is not only his reputation as a masterful writer: he has indeed written many other books, not at all on the same subject, but also the fact that his choice of lexical field elevates him above the likes of Houellebecq.
Visionaries are prophets indeed, but the essayist and investigative Washington Post writer Laura Sess
ions Stepp is stating the hard facts for us soon-to-be middle-aged parents. Unhooked: How Young Women Pursue Sex, Delay Love and Lose at Both, her essay on the subject, could be almost considered as the answer to Sexus and the prelude to Killing Johnny Fry. Not any more a male-based fantasy à la Houellebecq or à la Mosley, not a biographical account à la Miller, but an essay about the new female-in-action, a copycat of centuries of male chauvinism revers
ed!
How pale seems Lady Chatterley’s Lover!
’s life in the 1920s (and not, like a lot of readers wrongly assume, in the 1960s!). Of course there are pages full of very graphic details of his many sexual encounters. But out of 506 pages, it may be only 40% of it, the other 60% being dedicated to the making of a writer. The joy I felt from reading this book when I was 18 is nothing compared to the epiphany of reading it a second time in my 40s and finally understanding what a simple sentence such as: “To write (…) must be an act devoid of will” really means. To all struggling or acclaimed artists, be them writers, painters, musicians, you name it, this sentence rings so true. To dismiss Miller’s oeuvre or to consider it solely as “pornographic” is regrettable. If one does so, then what about the French Michel Houellebecq or his female counterpart Catherine Millet? Les particules élémentaires, Extension du domaine de la lutte, Plateforme, et La possibilité d’une île (to be easily renamed as « La possibilité du Nul » as far as I am concerned) by Houellebecq or the even more graphic La vie sexue
lle de Catherine M. by ArtPress Editor Catherine Millet cannot pretend to more than what they are: realistic, mechanical graphic descriptions of sexual orgies. There is no philosophical message here: even if Houellebecq likes to pose as a modern Pic de la Mirandole, he is in truth a libidinous middle-aged “man”, unable to raise it if not for the use of extremely obscene language… At least Catherine Millet does not pretend to a higher status than that of sexual explorer! We are far from Miller’s beautifully written pages, or from Roth’s insanely comical sentences.Houellebecq and Millet depict their truth as to the state of the (or their) French wo
rld (s) and sex. About a year ago I managed to find an American writer, Walter Mosley, whose latest book was intriguingly similar to that of both Millet and Houellebecq. Set in New York in our 21st century, Killing Johnny Fry: A Sexistential Novel is one man’s response to his girlfriend’s infidelity. What is truly unsettling in this book is that its parallel sexual universe could well be a vision of what lies ahead for the generations to come. The sex games mentioned remind the reader of both The Satyricon and The Decameron. What redeems Mosley is not only his reputation as a masterful writer: he has indeed written many other books, not at all on the same subject, but also the fact that his choice of lexical field elevates him above the likes of Houellebecq.Visionaries are prophets indeed, but the essayist and investigative Washington Post writer Laura Sess
ions Stepp is stating the hard facts for us soon-to-be middle-aged parents. Unhooked: How Young Women Pursue Sex, Delay Love and Lose at Both, her essay on the subject, could be almost considered as the answer to Sexus and the prelude to Killing Johnny Fry. Not any more a male-based fantasy à la Houellebecq or à la Mosley, not a biographical account à la Miller, but an essay about the new female-in-action, a copycat of centuries of male chauvinism revers
ed!How pale seems Lady Chatterley’s Lover!
Friday, April 4, 2008
40 years ago today...
Martin Luther King Jr. died 40 years ago today...on April 4, 1968.
40 years later, although progress has been made and segregation officially shunned, we are still confronting the same problems: a war is on that looks more and more like the Vietnam War (that was ongoing in 1968) and poverty is still knocking at the door of Blacks and now also Latinos.
Segregation is based on the color of the dollar: either you have some, or you don't...
Time to hear the 'I have a dream" speech again: they can kill the dreamer, but not the dream.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbUtL_0vAJk
40 years later, although progress has been made and segregation officially shunned, we are still confronting the same problems: a war is on that looks more and more like the Vietnam War (that was ongoing in 1968) and poverty is still knocking at the door of Blacks and now also Latinos.
Segregation is based on the color of the dollar: either you have some, or you don't...
Time to hear the 'I have a dream" speech again: they can kill the dreamer, but not the dream.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PbUtL_0vAJk
Tuesday, April 1, 2008
Cherry Blossom Festival 2008: The Hidden Face
One million persons on the Mall, Saturday March 29, 2008 for the Kite Festival and the opening of the Cherry Blossom Festival...The line was long for the Women's restrooms!
Wednesday, March 19, 2008
An Inspiring Speech
Reading Barack Obama's Speech brought back memories of other famous American speeches and of course in particular Kennedy's "Ask not what your country can do for you but what you can do your country" and Martin Luther's King's "I Have A Dream".
His speech contains elements of both famed predecessors and here lies the difference: he truly represents the sum of both worlds, white and black, the ideal to attend, "E pluribus unum": "Out of many, one nation".
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/18/us/politics/18text-obama.html?ex=1206590400&en=eeb9fd47e9f2bd55&ei=5070
His speech contains elements of both famed predecessors and here lies the difference: he truly represents the sum of both worlds, white and black, the ideal to attend, "E pluribus unum": "Out of many, one nation".
http://www.nytimes.com/2008/03/18/us/politics/18text-obama.html?ex=1206590400&en=eeb9fd47e9f2bd55&ei=5070
Monday, March 3, 2008
Ames sensibles s'abstenir, Partie 2
Ma précédente critique s’en prenait aux nombreux anglicismes qu’arbore la littérature contemporaine française. Titres d’abord, car c’est ce qui accroche le client/lecteur, mais aussi mots disséminés ça et là dans les phrases, au hasard des connaissances que l’auteur a de la langue de Shakespeare (ou de Steinbeck d’ailleurs !) ou victime de pressions extérieures que je ne nommerai pas.
Cette deuxième partie interpelle une autre branche de la littérature française contemporaine, que je nommerai « littérature de la déprime ». Ai-je inconsciemment choisi des livres porteurs de sentiment angoissant parce que c’était le mois de novembre, avec ce qu’il comprend de grisaille et de pluies à Paris, ou parce que les grèves des transports et leurs justifications mesquines minaient mon optimisme habituel ? Je laisse le soin aux différentes écoles de psychanalyse d’en juger…
Deux livres ont retenu mon attention : Le bar des habitudes, de Franz Bartelt et A conserver au frais, d’Isabelle Sojfer. Ils ont en commun d’être des recueils de nouvelles, un genre que j’aime beaucoup mais qui jusque là est resté plutôt négligé par la littérature française, avec l’exception notable de Philippe Delerm (La première gorgée de bière…).
Au-delà du genre, ces deux auteurs partagent aussi un style très pessimiste, cynique, qui a personnellement déprimé l’optimiste que je suis. De « Mauvais rêve » à « Dans le train », en passant par « Un parcours sans fautes », « Tueur en série », « Lili, « Testament d’un homme trop aimé », « Un voisin redoutable » et je ne les cite pas toutes, les nouvelles de Franz Bartelt décrivent des univers parallèles (Dans le train, Mauvais rêve) ou des personnages dont la mesquinerie, la méchanceté et les préjugés (Un voisin redoutable..) ne donnent pas envie de les connaître. Comme on dit en anglais, c’est le genre de lecture qui nous fait ensuite « count our blessings » parce que je suis convaincue qu’il s’est certainement inspiré de la réalité, mais je suis heureuse que ce ne soit pas ma réalité !
Quant à Isabelle Sojfer, elle apporte une certaine nouveauté puisque toutes ses nouvelles sauf deux, sont en fait des réécritures cyniques de contes de fée célèbres, et même de la pièce « King Lear » de Shakespeare (Il y a des auteurs qui ne doutent vraiment pas d’eux-mêmes !). J’avais déjà lu des adaptations politiquement correctes du Chaperon Rouge, des Trois Petits Cochons, de Blanche-Neige, etc., dans le nouveau style « bien pensant » et « chaleureux fraternel » des années 90, ce qui m’avait fait m’interroger sur la valeur initiatique de ce nouveau genre (car, comme l’écrivait Bruno Bettelheim dans Psychanalyse des Contes de Fées, il est bon pour les enfants de transcender leurs peurs, et c’est à cela que servaient nos contes de fées traditionnels). Le cru « Sojfer », si je peux m’exprimer ainsi, va tout à fait à l’inverse du politiquement correct niais et s’affirme dans la violence, dans le cynisme, et si l’impertinence fait sourire, il faut quand même qu’elle soit accompagnée du talent. « Le roi Lear » peut rester chez lui, Shakespeare n’a rien à craindre, ce n’est pas encore demain qu’il perdra sa place de barde universel au firmament des poètes ! A remarquer d’ailleurs, que les deux historiettes les mieux réussies, surtout au niveau de l’idée, sont « Le don » (rien à voir avec Nabokov) et celle qui a donné son titre au livre, « A conserver au frais ». La première évoque le livre d’Elsa Triolet, Roses à crédit, par la frénésie de consommation du jeune couple qui finit par vendre, membre par membre, organe par organe, la grand-mère de leurs enfants contre espèces sonnantes et trébuchantes…mais que reste-t-il lorsqu’elle a tout donné ? La deuxième consiste en un monologue existentiel intérieur, celui d’un yaourt, justement « à conserver au frais » et ses péripéties, de l’étagère du supermarché à celle du réfrigérateur de son consommateur éventuel. Le yaourt devient le détenu qui compte ses jours dans le couloir des condamnés à mort !
Cette deuxième partie interpelle une autre branche de la littérature française contemporaine, que je nommerai « littérature de la déprime ». Ai-je inconsciemment choisi des livres porteurs de sentiment angoissant parce que c’était le mois de novembre, avec ce qu’il comprend de grisaille et de pluies à Paris, ou parce que les grèves des transports et leurs justifications mesquines minaient mon optimisme habituel ? Je laisse le soin aux différentes écoles de psychanalyse d’en juger…
Deux livres ont retenu mon attention : Le bar des habitudes, de Franz Bartelt et A conserver au frais, d’Isabelle Sojfer. Ils ont en commun d’être des recueils de nouvelles, un genre que j’aime beaucoup mais qui jusque là est resté plutôt négligé par la littérature française, avec l’exception notable de Philippe Delerm (La première gorgée de bière…).
Au-delà du genre, ces deux auteurs partagent aussi un style très pessimiste, cynique, qui a personnellement déprimé l’optimiste que je suis. De « Mauvais rêve » à « Dans le train », en passant par « Un parcours sans fautes », « Tueur en série », « Lili, « Testament d’un homme trop aimé », « Un voisin redoutable » et je ne les cite pas toutes, les nouvelles de Franz Bartelt décrivent des univers parallèles (Dans le train, Mauvais rêve) ou des personnages dont la mesquinerie, la méchanceté et les préjugés (Un voisin redoutable..) ne donnent pas envie de les connaître. Comme on dit en anglais, c’est le genre de lecture qui nous fait ensuite « count our blessings » parce que je suis convaincue qu’il s’est certainement inspiré de la réalité, mais je suis heureuse que ce ne soit pas ma réalité !
Quant à Isabelle Sojfer, elle apporte une certaine nouveauté puisque toutes ses nouvelles sauf deux, sont en fait des réécritures cyniques de contes de fée célèbres, et même de la pièce « King Lear » de Shakespeare (Il y a des auteurs qui ne doutent vraiment pas d’eux-mêmes !). J’avais déjà lu des adaptations politiquement correctes du Chaperon Rouge, des Trois Petits Cochons, de Blanche-Neige, etc., dans le nouveau style « bien pensant » et « chaleureux fraternel » des années 90, ce qui m’avait fait m’interroger sur la valeur initiatique de ce nouveau genre (car, comme l’écrivait Bruno Bettelheim dans Psychanalyse des Contes de Fées, il est bon pour les enfants de transcender leurs peurs, et c’est à cela que servaient nos contes de fées traditionnels). Le cru « Sojfer », si je peux m’exprimer ainsi, va tout à fait à l’inverse du politiquement correct niais et s’affirme dans la violence, dans le cynisme, et si l’impertinence fait sourire, il faut quand même qu’elle soit accompagnée du talent. « Le roi Lear » peut rester chez lui, Shakespeare n’a rien à craindre, ce n’est pas encore demain qu’il perdra sa place de barde universel au firmament des poètes ! A remarquer d’ailleurs, que les deux historiettes les mieux réussies, surtout au niveau de l’idée, sont « Le don » (rien à voir avec Nabokov) et celle qui a donné son titre au livre, « A conserver au frais ». La première évoque le livre d’Elsa Triolet, Roses à crédit, par la frénésie de consommation du jeune couple qui finit par vendre, membre par membre, organe par organe, la grand-mère de leurs enfants contre espèces sonnantes et trébuchantes…mais que reste-t-il lorsqu’elle a tout donné ? La deuxième consiste en un monologue existentiel intérieur, celui d’un yaourt, justement « à conserver au frais » et ses péripéties, de l’étagère du supermarché à celle du réfrigérateur de son consommateur éventuel. Le yaourt devient le détenu qui compte ses jours dans le couloir des condamnés à mort !
Saturday, February 23, 2008
Thoughts on a snowy day
I meant to add these thoughts a couple of weeks back once they occured to me, but I have been too busy with the mundane to allow myself some writing time...
With the American primaries taking over the news, I have been especially following the Democrats. What, with a woman running and an African-American man running, both with their chances, it is a double first in American politics! Even though I cannot vote, not being a US citizen yet, I am still deeply interested in these elections.
If I could vote, I would cast my ballot for Obama. Now, some may ask, why not for Hillary? She is a woman, you are a woman too, can't you stand for your own kind? Can't you help make a woman get the most powerful job in the world? Well, if Obama was not running, I'd say: "Sure, I'll support Hillary" but Obama is running...
Amongst the many reasons, I'd support Obama, is the fact that his hands are not as dirty as Hillary's. One cannot help thinking of Whitewater, of the White House aide who committed suicide...Then one takes notice of how Bill, the former president, has been helping her run her campaign, and how distateful his attacks have been, how angry and red he looked... So one could not help thinking that she was relying too much on her husband's fame and charisma, which does not give out an image of a strong woman. Again, when she shared a few tears, exposing her so-called vulnerability and emotion, it was hard not to think that she was being manipulative: anything to win, even the female soft touch?!
Finally, what blew me was this article I read in the Washington Post after Super Tuesday. Some woman was being interviewed and she said that she would not "turn the world over to my 46 year old son-in-law" and therefore would certainly not vote for a 46 year old candidate. The lady being interviewed was 67...I felt angry and humiliated. This, to me, is another proof that, being born in 1962, I feel, just like Obama, that I am still looking forward, to the future, and therefore am more akin to the generation coming after me, than attuned to a 67 years old probably wealthily retired baby boomer. Then I thought: "Wait a minute! How old was Kennedy when he ran? How old was Clinton himself?" This lady obviously has some serious memory problems...Alzheimer? If she thinks so badly of a 46 year old candidate, what can she think of a 20 year old geek CEO? Do we have to wait until arthritis, osteoporosis and Alzheimer have set in, to run the world? What about Reagan, the best example of senility in power? Lady, why don't you go and manage the local nursing home, be with your peers, and let us provide for your Medicaid!
With the American primaries taking over the news, I have been especially following the Democrats. What, with a woman running and an African-American man running, both with their chances, it is a double first in American politics! Even though I cannot vote, not being a US citizen yet, I am still deeply interested in these elections.
If I could vote, I would cast my ballot for Obama. Now, some may ask, why not for Hillary? She is a woman, you are a woman too, can't you stand for your own kind? Can't you help make a woman get the most powerful job in the world? Well, if Obama was not running, I'd say: "Sure, I'll support Hillary" but Obama is running...
Amongst the many reasons, I'd support Obama, is the fact that his hands are not as dirty as Hillary's. One cannot help thinking of Whitewater, of the White House aide who committed suicide...Then one takes notice of how Bill, the former president, has been helping her run her campaign, and how distateful his attacks have been, how angry and red he looked... So one could not help thinking that she was relying too much on her husband's fame and charisma, which does not give out an image of a strong woman. Again, when she shared a few tears, exposing her so-called vulnerability and emotion, it was hard not to think that she was being manipulative: anything to win, even the female soft touch?!
Finally, what blew me was this article I read in the Washington Post after Super Tuesday. Some woman was being interviewed and she said that she would not "turn the world over to my 46 year old son-in-law" and therefore would certainly not vote for a 46 year old candidate. The lady being interviewed was 67...I felt angry and humiliated. This, to me, is another proof that, being born in 1962, I feel, just like Obama, that I am still looking forward, to the future, and therefore am more akin to the generation coming after me, than attuned to a 67 years old probably wealthily retired baby boomer. Then I thought: "Wait a minute! How old was Kennedy when he ran? How old was Clinton himself?" This lady obviously has some serious memory problems...Alzheimer? If she thinks so badly of a 46 year old candidate, what can she think of a 20 year old geek CEO? Do we have to wait until arthritis, osteoporosis and Alzheimer have set in, to run the world? What about Reagan, the best example of senility in power? Lady, why don't you go and manage the local nursing home, be with your peers, and let us provide for your Medicaid!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)