Thoughts on: Tarzan of the Apes by Edgar Rice Burroughs

Recently I've been craving an adventure.  Of course, my idea of a real life adventure these days is buying a new kind of shampoo at the Shopper's Drug Mart.  Luckily, I have books like Tarzan of the Apes to let me escape from the shoebox in which I live, and traverse the murky depths of the African Jungle.

One quick preface to this book.  It is a cultural transmission from a different age.  Back when it was written (1912 originally), there was a steadfast belief that the white man had been scientifically been proven a superior genus to any other "genus".  This was based in bullshit science like craniometry (measuring skulls) and other "scientific" methods.  Anthropology was widely influenced, and many people "discovered" the validity of what was being "proven" in the lab.  The whole thing was a giant sham, obviously, to try to scientifically prove the natural, born right of the English nobleman over all other species on earth.  In fact, the point of the entire book is to prove that point.  Tarzan would have been more successful than any other creature anywhere because he came from a long line of whitey white faces with a serious attitude problem.  Le sigh, we can't erase the past but we can recognize the bogus-ness of things like scientific racism.

That being said, Tarzan was a very exciting, very fast paced novel that was enormously entertaining.  The book itself is so different from any of the movie versions I've ever seen.  It starts with mutiny.  His parents are forced onto an island after the ship that they are on undergoes a change in power structure.  After surviving for several years, his parents finally fall prey to the animals on the island and little baby Lord Greystoke undergoes a change of parentage.  Kala, the beautiful, strong limbed lady gorilla swaps her dead baby for the living one left in the little shack on the beach.  And so Tarzan grows up among the apes.

First man Tarzan sees?  A native african tribesman.  He steals their weapons and kills their hunters.  They worship him as a forest God.  Eventually, after a gauntlet of Lion and Gorilla fights, Tarzan sets his eyes on the now stranded Jane Porter.  Her little party includes her father, Archimedes Q. Porter, Mr. Philander, Esmerelda (her servant) and Clayton, the now Lord Greystoke.  Tarzan protects this little motley crew and eventually saves Jane from the clutches of a rival Ape.  They fall in love, but it is not meant to be (now anyway.  Apparently there are like 40 Tarzan books...).  Jane sails away while Tarzan is protecting a wounded French soldier.  In return for saving his life, the Frenchman teaches him to speak and they travel to Paris, and eventually America, in search of the lovely Jane.  When they find her, she is betrothed to another.  Some good old fashioned rough and tumble leaves Jane not betrothed to the evil money lender, but instead Clayton, the English born Lord Greystoke.  Little do they know that Tarzan is infact the heir to that title.

And so ends the first book.  All in all it was pretty straight forward.  It was definitely thrilling.  I could gobble books like this up all day.  Tarzan is a perfect mix of adventure, romance and revenge.  It's not the most witty or inspired plot, but I can definitely see why it has become such a widely transmitted cultural myth.  It strikes a balance between identity, self- love and DYI.  I wonder if I can get my hands on some more of the installations and see if I can't see how the saga ends :)

Ta for now,

ET

Thoughts on: The Best Laid Plans by Terry Fallis

When I heard all the accolades that Terry Fallis' first novel was getting, I had to pick it up.  Winner of CBC Canada Reads 2011. Winner of the Stephen Leacock Award for Humour.  Fallis' political satire "The Best Laid Plans" was shaping up to be the read of the year:

I can tell you right now that this book does not dissapoint.  It appeals to me on a variety of levels, but even moreso, it has a broadness of appeal that would spread to anyone who is not a frequent reader.  Besides the fact that it is well-written, poignant, romantic and intelligent, it has all the right stuff to make it a knock-out success.  It's fast-paced and allows you to slip comfortably into a world from which us civilians are pretty sheltered. 

What made this book Awesome? Well:

1) Lots of correcting grammar humour.  Who knew split infinitives could make me laugh so violently?  When two english nerds get together to critique the ill-fitting rhetoric of aging parlimentarians, it adds a shade of hilarity that is just high-brow enough to hit home. 

2) Fart jokes... enough said

3) A fabulously romantic, and realistic love story.  One between a widowed man and the ghost of his wife, another between a beautiful young masters student and an English Professor/Liberal Part Speech writer.  The former especially tugs at the heart strings.

4) Exploration into the Machiavellian world of Canadian Politics. Seriously, there are some freaking douches in the Capital. 

5) A searing inditement of our narrow minded education system that focuses on specialization.  Blinders on we major in something obscurely academic, without a broader scope of cultural awareness.  Unless you are an individual who is seeking out a well rounded education, Universities push a certain path onto chosen degree programs.  Art majors (like myself) have a gross misunderstanding of basic scientific principles.  Science majors do not get a substantial exposure to philosophy, art and literature (like I said before, unless it is self sought). 

6) Frequent Chess games

7) Home-made hovercrafts

8) Environmental kick-assery

AND FINALLY!  (Finish him....)

9) It's Canadian -- I know what you're thinking... So is Nickelback, Default, and my poops... But this book reveled in its own nationality.  It was situated in an unmistakably familiar location with ideals very close to my own heart.  Instead of just playing the token Canadian Author card, Fallis really takes his understanding of what people know and love about this country, and transforms it into a banner for action.  Well played, salesman.

I'm feeling a bit like a snot monster has taken up residence inside my noggin, so I must sleep early and well in order to stand a chance at functioning tomorrow.

Ta for now,

ET

Thoughts on: Rouse Up O Young Men of the New Age by Kenzaburo Oe

I've never read any by Kenzaburo Oe before, but I own two of his novels.  I think subconsciously I've  been drawn to his literature, not just through the recommendations of others, but also through some innate karma harmonization between his thoughts and my own.  This is similar to the relationship that Oe has with William Blake's work, the theme in his novel "Rouse Up O Young Men of the New Age". 

In the novel, Oe describes Blake's work as follows:

"What attracts me to Blake so powerfully is that he not only formulates his own unique mythological world based on a tradition that extends Christianity to esoteric mysticism, he also empowers his mythology to develop on its own by infusing it with energy from his life and times.  And the motion he achieves in this way allows him to drive his mythological world through and beyond his motifs of contemporary politics and international relations to a place beyond time.  For me these two facets of the same achievement account for Blake's magnetic power":

In this deeply personal novel (or memoir, or critical piece, or political meditation, depending on where you drop in and how much you believe to be not fiction), Oe intricately weaves his experiences with his mentally handicapped son with his life long affinity with William Blake's poetry.  Personal anecdotes, pieces of past fiction and literary criticism and profound dream sequences flow together to create an unrelenting torrent of dissonance and joy.  I am intellectually exhausting having read this book, holy moly.  Oe is an incredibly intelligent man, not just as a writer of fiction, but also as a political activist, a father and a literary critic. 

The span of the book seems unwieldy, but Oe always brings the reader back to two main pillars that fortify the architecture of the novel.  The first is his relationship with his son, at times strained, but always profound.  The second is William Blake's poetry, which has unconsciously guided, Oe explains, some of his main works throughout his life.  From this starting point, Oe bounds up and down the timeline of his career and personal life, injecting astute comments about memory, imagination, the role of the author in society, anti-nuclear politics and imperialism in Japan.  Oh, what a whirlwind. 

Parts of this book went completely over my head.  I don't think that I have the critical capacity to intuit all of the aspects of Oe's writing.  However, what I did get will stay with me. 

I went out today and bought the complete Poetry and Prose of William Blake and Blake: Prophet Against Empire by Erdman.  I was in a frenzy.  I was just inspired, and saw a used book store and somehow ended up in the poetry section and.... oh, I know I'm weak.  But I am glad I bought it.  I can't wait to put into context some of the sampled mythology that Oe relies so heavily upon in both his writing and home life.

I'm sure I'll get to it, some day.

Ta for Now,

ET

Thoughts on: Bonjour Tristesse by Francoise Sagan

In 1954, a saucy little piece of fiction came out of France.  Her first book (she was 18 at the time), Bonjour Tristesse established Francoise Sagan as a wunderkind of sorts, a strong, talented and extremely sought after voice in literature.

The plot is deceptively simple.  The main character (and narrator) Cecile, her father (a widower) and his mistress Elsa go for a vacation in the French Riviera.  Spoiled and precocious, Cecile begins her first romance with a slightly older boy named Cyril.  An old friend of her mother's, Anne, joins them in the Riviera.  Elsa is soon cast off, and her father and Anne announce their engagement.  Cecile begins plans, using Elsa and Cyril as pawns, to disrupt her father and Anne's engagement, so that she can return to her former relationship she had with her father. 

Let's face it, Cecile is a two-faced, lying douche bag.  I'm not saying that she doesn't have a discreet charm.  She is absolutely lovely in many ways.  She drinks too much, and loves to sail.  She loves her father.  She internalizes philosophy and lives simply.  That said, Cecile manipulates those that love her into doing her often ill judged, ill timed bidding. Sagan manages to make us believe in Cecile's simplicity, and thus forgive her sins.  I think that we could blame the douche bag a little more.  It makes me wonder if any of this is autobiographical and she just doesn't believe that she herself has done anything wrong.  The writing was a little lackluster, and I got a little tired of hearing "Oh, I know it's wrong, but selfish reason A and selfish reason B are my uninventive reasons for not giving a shit".  

The content was provocative, and fast paced.  It really was a nice novel. The subtlety of the narrator gives the somewhat cliched plot a new life, and the setting is just marvelous.  First love on the French Riviera never felt so sandy.  At 120 pages, it is a quick read, and it is a great introduction modern French lit. 

Ta for now,

ET

Thoughts on: Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham

On a recommendation of a good friend of mine, I have recently taken up (and completed) the book Of Human Bondage by W. Somerset Maugham.

Maugham is a very distinct literary figure.  His career was prolific, and to this day he is remarkably widely read.  He lived off the royalties of his works well into his twilight years.  Several of his works, including Of Human Bondage, have been made into major motion pictures.  Yet, Maugham was not particularly progressive.  Neither is his style amazingly interesting.  He lived in the same era as Virginia Woolf but his prose possesses none of the revolutionary ideals of his time.   Instead, Maugham is a simple storyteller.  He takes a simple concept and simply creates a world around it, guiding the reader through by the hand.  His voice is clear and even, his style direct, and his settings are built from the world he knows.  He travelled all over the world, away from his native England, at a time when the world seemed larger than it does now, thus several of his stories

Of Human Bondage is a buildingsroman (woo hoo, I thought I'd never have leave to use that word in "real life") that is semiautobiographical.  Our protagonist is Philip Carey, son of wealthy parents who died when he was very young.  Now orphaned, Philip moves in with his Uncle, the Vicar of Blackstable, and his wife.  With a club foot, and a social awkwardness about him, Philip's formative years were a nightmare.  As a schoolboy in England, he was constantly pestered for his disability and for his shy nature. 

Philip leaves school to go to Germany.  Then, after feeling the wanderlust again, he returns to England, only to leave promptly for Paris, to study painting.  What follows is a story of ups and downs, with a suprisingly large focus on the exact amount of money that Philip has, and the style of life he can lead and the freedom he can savour with any level of fortune. Philip also has the strange trait of disliking people right off the bat.  Only after conversation and forced acquaintance does Philip forge relationships with people.  Maugham had a wife, but also a lifelong male partner.  One theory is that his descriptive first impressions, followed by immediate distrust may be an autobiographical description of his budding homosexuality, and his inability (in the context of 1900s England) to express himself or feel comfortable in his surroundings. 

The whole story is good, but where it excels (and is rightly remembered for) is its love story.  Philip has several female acquaintances throughout the novel but the most compelling and well developed relationship is with the anemic, scrawny but oddly tantalizing Mildred.  He immediately loves her, but is also repelled by her.  She is just terrible to him.  Like, REALLY terrible.  But he keeps on taking her back, taking her back.  She has another man's kid, and he just takes in the kid too.  A lot of his unhappiness is tied up with her.  But the relationship spans many years, off and on.  Philip's love for Mildred shows an odd preponsity for enjoying pain.  In the beginning, Philip gives Mildred the benefit of the doubt, but as their relationship continues, he knows exactly what kind of person she is.  He has no illusions about her stupidity, her sluttiness and her poverty.  It really is a unique love story, and it is told in Maughams unervingly straightforward voice, which shows subtlety that may otherwise have been lost in the telling. 

It was pretty good, and very theraputic to read.  But, it was sad, bleak and unremarkable in many ways.  Not much spice, but amazing ingredients that are well seasoned.  At just over 700 pages, it was a remarkably quick read.  The host of characters are believable and vibrant.  What is more, the autobiographical aspects of the book give great insight into how such a prolific author becomes the way that he is.  I'm sure that Philip Carey's fears often mirror Maugham's.  He fears is seeming mediocrity, his wanderlust, and his loneliness. 

I... shouldn't... have.  But I bought another Maugham novel, The Painted Veil.  I'm have the feeling that I could pick up the Maugham habit, in the same way that I read Jane Austen.  There is a safety in his voice that make his stories appealing and comfortable. And, it made me want to drink lots of tea.

Ta for now,

ET

Thoughts on: Stunt by Claudia Dey

I decided to read something comfortably contemporary this week.  It turned out being anything but comfortable, and all too enjoyable.  Let's give it up for Stunt by Claudia Dey:

Our young narrator is Eugenia, obsessed with her father, she was a premature baby who was born into a bizarre family.  Her mother, Mink, was once a contortionist and dancer.  Immaculata, her sister, takes after her beautiful mother.  She is graceful and nurturing.  Eugenia is like her father, wild and ugly.  She has Synesthesia, and can immediately recall minute details from her childhood at the drop of a hat.  When her father, Sheb Wooly Ledoux, leaves with nothing but a note and a pan, still warm from his breakfast, Eugenia knows that she is meant to connect the dots and follow him.  Like a map of her childhood, she begins her search.

What follows is an intricately fragmented narrative.  Snippets of sensual memories slowly build into vivid personal identities.  Every colour, smell and sight is carefully revealed, unearthing a much larger birdseye view of modern mythology.  Inter weaved with the plot is cowboy poetry, postcards from outer space, tightrope walkers and apples. 

If I had to compare it to anything else I'd read, I'd say that it has some similarities to Lullabies for Little Children by Heather O'Neill.  Both novels are humourous but engage what I would call little girl ugliness.  By this I mean, all of the rotten things that can happen to little girls when they are young and still forming their identities.  But their styles are altogether different.  Dey is originally a playwright and her sense of "setting the scene" is impeccable.  This is her first novel, but the format really suits her writing style.  Eugenia is a wonderful heroine.  She can see what is not there better than most people can see what is there.  Her overactive imagination is her best friend.  There are elements of "magic realism" in that supernatural things occur, and you just have to accept them.  Mostly, there are just so many genres that I could squash into this novel, that I'll stop the comparisons.  Stunt was a complete success.  I loved the way the moments breathed in and out.  I loved the way that I could smell the moments, just like Eugenia. 

Ta for now,

ET

Thoughts on: Pan by Knut Hamsun

I hear exceedingly different profiles of Knut Hamsun, and I doubt none of them.  He was a complicated man, I'm sure.  He has been described as the soul of Norway, but at the same time he was a vehement supporter of the Nazi Regime, going so far as to mail his Nobel Prize to Joseph Goebbels. 

He began his career very much as an "outside artist", much like Henry Darger.  He most certainly did not stay there.  After the success of Hunger, he began to tour and lecture, often condemning his contemporaries for what he believed to be their shortcomings, that there was not enough emphasis placed on the interior voice, the crevices of the human mind.

His choice of narrative style became clear, and was incredibly successful in his 1894 novel Pan:

Thomas Glahn is the main character.  He lives on the edge of a city, and of Nature (capital N).  He often states in the novel that he is a child of the forest, and enjoys solitude.  Nonetheless, he is still a part of society, though he often commits social gaffes.  The novel goes through summer he spent in Nordland, from the voice of his own memory.  Often a rambling and unreliable Narrator, Hamsun creates a vivid and enticing charachter in Glahn, and most remarkably, an erotic one.

One of the most striking aspects of the book, and the plot points that most reveal Glahn as a character, are his relationships with women.  There is Edvarda, the fickle but beautiful highborn lady who loves Glahn for his Animal Eyes.  Eva is sweet, married to the blacksmith, but nonetheless drawn to Glahn and gives up all her other happiness to be with him.  Henriette, a milkmaid, passes through the story fleetingly.  These women define Glahn, although he himself dismisses them quite out of hand.  He somehow attracts women without a thought, but is ultimately unsuccessful at any kind of long lasting relationship. 

Drawn between moments of pathos, serenity and extreme anger, Glahn embodies the myth of Pan.  The eroticism of the myth is combined with a man who is of nature at the same time as society.  The myth weaves through the book and strengthens the overall narrative.

I don't think that ther e is any one way to read this book.  It is SO incredibly subjective.  He could be a psychopath.  Or maybe a Rousseauian man of nature.  Maybe Glahn is meant to be read by Freudian or Jungian theorists.  You can find legitimate examples for each.  For the rest of us, who are content to read the tales and either enjoy them or not, Pan is a must read.  You will never forget the short, but meandering, narrative of Thomas Glahn.  And you will be suprised by his selfishness and sacrifice. 

Ta for now,

ET

Thoughts on: The Castle of Otranto by Horace Walpole

______________________________

   The wind whistled through the slight crack beneath the sill and the wall.  Emily, sitting across from the sagging ediface, could feel the breeze through her petticoats.  It's sharp, chilling touch enveloped her soul.  She sat in her aging parlour, the paper yellowing.  When she was young, she could imagine the room as it once was.  Vibrant.  Comfortable.  Now, she simply waited as she slowly wasted away.  She was waiting for him to come.

But sigh, what was to be heard but an inalienable scream from the other room, followed by a sharp crash.  Emily, upon hearing the terrifying sound, felt faint and clammy.  A paleness fell over her countenance.  In the following silence, Emily rose from her chair to examine the source.  Her face full of horror, she peered around the door frame, only to see a broken window beyond.  Puzzled by the scene before her, she slowly walked into the seemingly abandoned room, warily moving closer to the broken glass that covered the floor. 

All at once she heard a voice behind her.  Deeper than mortally possible, it startled Emily beyond conceivable reason.  It said - Emily, beware the broken window.  Beware the yellow canary as it enters the mineshaft.  Beware the depths of hell...

_____________________________

Okay, that's about as good as I got.   Now let's face it, I don't have a vague aging parlour, nor do I have petticoats.   But what I do have is "The Castle of Otranto" by Horace Walpole.  And now I've read it too!

1764 was the year, and Horace Walpole was the MAN.  He claimed he found some manuscript and got it published it.  Oh yeah, he also remodeled his house so it was super spooky and crazy castle like.  Only later did he reveal that the whole story was inspired by a dream he had, and that he had written the whole thing.

It kind of reads like an acid trip.  Punctuation and style were vastly different in the 1760s.  A lot of the dialogue took me a long time to read, just because I started getting confused about who was saying what. 

SPOILER WARNING BELOW!!!!!  I AM SUMMING UP THE PLOT!!!!! clumsily and without much intelligence.  I never do understand the plot very well when I am reading in an British accent.  

However, it is a ghost story of awesome proportions.  Plagued by a sinister prophecy, Manfred, owner of the castle of Otranto, is obsessed with his son's marriage to the young and beautiful Isabella.  His daughter, Matilda, and his wife, Hippolita, also live at Otranto.  On the wedding day, screams come from the Servant's quarter.  A Giant helmet had started to float and killed the son, due to bloody dismemberment.  In shock and anguish, Manfred means to divorce his wife and marry Isabella, who is of noble blood, himself. 

Isabella flees, and brings the dashing (and secretly noble, but thinks he is a farmhand) Theodore into the story.  He ends up saving her twice, so she thinks he digs her.  BUT, once Theodore and Matilda meet (Theodore is behind bars for pissing off the crazy Manfred), it is love at first prison break.  Upon Theodore's freedom, he finds out he is a noble.  Duh duh duh duh.  Some more random pieces of armour float around, and it turns out it is not really Manfred's castle.  It was stolen by his great grandfather after the Crusades.  Manfred is ruined!!!!!! RUINED!!!!!

In a case of mistaken identity, Manfred stabs Matilda, his only living child, in the heart.  But she stays alive long enough to be transported around, get into bed, say goodbye to Theodore, forgive her father and tell her mommy that she loves her. 

Then Theodore ends up marrying Isabella, assumingly.  I'm reading into the ending a little bit there.


SPOILER OVER!!!!!!!!

Awesome.

ET out for now. 

Thoughts on: Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe

Hey folks,

Long time, no blog.  This is in no small due part due to three things:

1) My laziness and general malaise when it comes to finishing what I start
2) I just took a massive road trip all over the USA.  Farthest point south, Tucson AZ USA.
3) The book that I chose to read was 874 PAGES long.  I can't believe I actually finished.


So without further ado, here are my thoughts on Mysteries of Udolpho by Ann Radcliffe.

 

Published in 1794, Mysteries of Udolpho was Ann Radcliffe's 4th novel.  I've read Gothic novels before, but never before have I read one so sweeping in scope, and so drawn out.  As aforementioned, it weighs in at 874 pages, not for the faint of heart or for those with a fear of commitment.  The heroine (if you can call a fainting, weeping, sensitive, idiotic and naive woman a heroine) is Emily St. Aubert.  She has a happy home life, living in Languedoc (that's in France...), until her mom dies.  Her father's health never really recovers, and during a romantic and fateful trip to the Italian countryside, Mr. St. Aubert's life stops altogether.  Orphaned, Emily is thrown at the mercy of a cruel and simpering Aunt who swiftly marries (for money... ironically) the penniless and cruel Monsieur Montoni, Italian landowner and generally evil dude.  What follows is a journey to and eventually an escape from Montoni's haunted castle, Udolpho.

Although the book did drag (because I mean it just was so long, too long for my modern youtube sensibilities), it was full of everything that is great about fiction.  There was true love, sword fights, banditti, apparitions, horror, nuns, gambling, mistaken identity and more.  I can absolutely see why it was such a popular novel in its time.  Ann Radcliffe creates a landscape like no other.  You feel like you are riding next to Emily in the coach.  As my name is Emily, I liked to pretend that Radcliffe was writing about me, especially during the romantic stuff.  *sigh* 

FYI, the book is interspersed with poetry, some of it original, some of it quoted from various other sources including contemporary writers and canonical ones.  Some of the poems are pages long.  They're alright.  They don't anything a lot to the plot and I stopped reading them after page 300.  Some sacrifices have to be made for the sake of sanity.

Ta ta for now.  I need to choose what to read next.  My guess is that you'll hear from me soon because whatever I pick, it will be relatively short.

ET