Book Bloggin'
For my job, I am required to read at least one mystery a month. I try to read two, in part to impress my boss, who seems to believe that I would have a great deal of potential if only I'd stop with that theater nonsense. And then she wonders why I regard her in more of a parent/child role instead of that of two almost-equal adults. Anyway, I read one mystery from an established writer and one that I want to read, inpart to cleanse the palate, if you will. I really needed it after reading on of Ed McBain's 87th Precinct novels, which you really need to read in order (all 50+ of them) to understand what's going on. This month, I deviated slightly and read two new mysteries from two relatively new authors, Chinatown Beat by Henry Chang and Mistress of the Art of Death by Ariana Franklin. The first is a noirish look at New York's Chinatown that looks to have stories overlap from book to book. I may be very glad to have been able to start at the beginning. There's a good deal of Chinese sprinkled throughout, but not so much or so used that someone who can't pick up languages quickly will be confused.
The book I just completed last night, Mistress of the Art of Death, is fascinating. Set in twelfth -century England, it concerns what would now be called a medical examiner who happens to be female. The protagonist hails from Salerno, Sicily, home to the most advanced medical school and facilities in Europe at the time. Sent as a favor from one monarch to another, she initially hates England, with its antisemitism, rainy weather, and lack of salad greens. There is great historical and medical detail, and none of the characters seems a cariacture. Most of the time the people in the book speak without anachronisms, though I recall the author making a reference to the Buddha, which while not in the mouth of a character, seemed somewhat out of place in a book set in a time and a place that knew very little about what existed east of Jerusalem. I liked the protagonist and her companions a great deal, as well as the way the author made it clear that they were true odditiesin their milieu. Ms. Franklin seems to still be finding her legs as a writer of historical fiction, but I look forward to her next outing.
All this professional reading, including industrial journals, has hurt my program to read more of the classics. I started reading Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer about this time last year and never got through it. This year, I bought a copy of The Grapes of Wrath from Half Price Books (I think my sister stole the copy I had in high school) to see if it would be better than I remembered. It didn't take me long to wonder how I got through it on any kind of schedule. In this case, Steinbeck is not light reading. I also found the symbolism is not exactly laid on with a light touch. I suppose our teachers, who felt they could never underestimate the intelligence of juniors in an advanced placement course, felt the allegories would seep into our Nintendo-addled brains with minimal pounding. I don't recall all that the things we were supposed to take away from the novel in order to pass the AP exams (the sole reason an accelerated English program was offered), but I did pick up a few things this time that I'm sure my teacher didn't mention.
Steinbeck didn't like children much. He didn't write them all that well, either. For all his championing the rights of the worker and other left-wing (for the time) ideas, Steinbeck had a blind spot when it came to women. He didn't advocate for the end of their oppression the way he railed against banks and runaway capitalism. Nope, women were supposed to endure with patience all that befell them. At the then of The Grapes of Wrath, Rose of Sharon is redeemed from her previous selfish behavior by suckling a starving man. I know the ending is controversial, mostly on charges of pornography, and while I have not read the critical literature on the book, here's my impression. Rosasharn is selfish? Um, she's pregnant, and she's worried about providing the best for her child, as every parent-to-be is. She's right to worry, considering the lump she married. I mean, come on folks, She's never been pregnant before, she's dealing with economic uncertainty, her husband abandons her, she's living on the road, what little medical advice she gets isn't reassuring given her financial situation, and Ma Joad, expressing the wishes of the author, pretty much tells her to quit whining and think of the volk.
Ah yes, Ma Joad. Some critics seem to think she's the greatest female creation of 20th century literature. Sorry, but she's not terribly dynamic, and therefore not all that interesting. Anybody who seriously thinks she wasn't at least serreptitiously running the show before she started swishing that flat iron around is at least as dense as the Joad men. For those who assault me with the idea of archetypes, please remember that they are no excuse for not creating characters as individuals. All Steinbeck has engendered is a crude icon, allowing men to do the important work of having realizations and changing the world.
So other than that, Ms. Frances, how did you like the book? Okay, I liked Tom's farewell speech. I think it's the strongest writing in that novel. I thought changing the narrative between the Joads and the migration as a whole was intriguing and added perspective. However, in the end, I'm not sure why The Grapes of Wrath is considered one of the Great Books. Probably one of the most influential of the 20th century, but not one of the best. Maybe it's just the theater student in me but I think the play version of Of Mice and Men is a better piece of art, and it's certainly more subtle. I'll remember Steinbeck for that, and leave the other.
Okay, I'm stumped. Which Pogues' song has the line, "First we drank some whiskey, then we drank some gin, then we had tequila, and that's what did me in?" I've listened to If I Should Fall from Grace with God and Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash repeatedly and can't place it.
The book I just completed last night, Mistress of the Art of Death, is fascinating. Set in twelfth -century England, it concerns what would now be called a medical examiner who happens to be female. The protagonist hails from Salerno, Sicily, home to the most advanced medical school and facilities in Europe at the time. Sent as a favor from one monarch to another, she initially hates England, with its antisemitism, rainy weather, and lack of salad greens. There is great historical and medical detail, and none of the characters seems a cariacture. Most of the time the people in the book speak without anachronisms, though I recall the author making a reference to the Buddha, which while not in the mouth of a character, seemed somewhat out of place in a book set in a time and a place that knew very little about what existed east of Jerusalem. I liked the protagonist and her companions a great deal, as well as the way the author made it clear that they were true odditiesin their milieu. Ms. Franklin seems to still be finding her legs as a writer of historical fiction, but I look forward to her next outing.
All this professional reading, including industrial journals, has hurt my program to read more of the classics. I started reading Henry Miller's Tropic of Cancer about this time last year and never got through it. This year, I bought a copy of The Grapes of Wrath from Half Price Books (I think my sister stole the copy I had in high school) to see if it would be better than I remembered. It didn't take me long to wonder how I got through it on any kind of schedule. In this case, Steinbeck is not light reading. I also found the symbolism is not exactly laid on with a light touch. I suppose our teachers, who felt they could never underestimate the intelligence of juniors in an advanced placement course, felt the allegories would seep into our Nintendo-addled brains with minimal pounding. I don't recall all that the things we were supposed to take away from the novel in order to pass the AP exams (the sole reason an accelerated English program was offered), but I did pick up a few things this time that I'm sure my teacher didn't mention.
Steinbeck didn't like children much. He didn't write them all that well, either. For all his championing the rights of the worker and other left-wing (for the time) ideas, Steinbeck had a blind spot when it came to women. He didn't advocate for the end of their oppression the way he railed against banks and runaway capitalism. Nope, women were supposed to endure with patience all that befell them. At the then of The Grapes of Wrath, Rose of Sharon is redeemed from her previous selfish behavior by suckling a starving man. I know the ending is controversial, mostly on charges of pornography, and while I have not read the critical literature on the book, here's my impression. Rosasharn is selfish? Um, she's pregnant, and she's worried about providing the best for her child, as every parent-to-be is. She's right to worry, considering the lump she married. I mean, come on folks, She's never been pregnant before, she's dealing with economic uncertainty, her husband abandons her, she's living on the road, what little medical advice she gets isn't reassuring given her financial situation, and Ma Joad, expressing the wishes of the author, pretty much tells her to quit whining and think of the volk.
Ah yes, Ma Joad. Some critics seem to think she's the greatest female creation of 20th century literature. Sorry, but she's not terribly dynamic, and therefore not all that interesting. Anybody who seriously thinks she wasn't at least serreptitiously running the show before she started swishing that flat iron around is at least as dense as the Joad men. For those who assault me with the idea of archetypes, please remember that they are no excuse for not creating characters as individuals. All Steinbeck has engendered is a crude icon, allowing men to do the important work of having realizations and changing the world.
So other than that, Ms. Frances, how did you like the book? Okay, I liked Tom's farewell speech. I think it's the strongest writing in that novel. I thought changing the narrative between the Joads and the migration as a whole was intriguing and added perspective. However, in the end, I'm not sure why The Grapes of Wrath is considered one of the Great Books. Probably one of the most influential of the 20th century, but not one of the best. Maybe it's just the theater student in me but I think the play version of Of Mice and Men is a better piece of art, and it's certainly more subtle. I'll remember Steinbeck for that, and leave the other.
Okay, I'm stumped. Which Pogues' song has the line, "First we drank some whiskey, then we drank some gin, then we had tequila, and that's what did me in?" I've listened to If I Should Fall from Grace with God and Rum, Sodomy, and the Lash repeatedly and can't place it.
posted by S. M. Frances at 9:43 PM
0 comments
